All language subtitles for N.S01E01.To Be in the Oven [eng]

-Calm down, take it easy.
-Move!

Do you think you own the street?

Dumbass!

Nada.

Episode one.

To be in the oven,
estar en el horno:

To find oneself in a particularly
compromising situation

of very difficult resolution.

My name is Vincent Parisi,
and I have a friend that I rarely see

and with whom I speak no more than
maybe once or twice a year,

or sometimes not even that.

WOMAN :
Sir.

It's already nine o'clock.

He lives 5,300 miles
away from here in Buenos Aires.

However, I do consider him
one of my greatest friends.

His past is somewhat unclear.

He was a hippie,
he was a rugbier, an alcoholic,

a former exile, a backpacker,
an artist, you name it.

His name is Manuel Tamayo Prats,
and he is a true dandy.

What does he do today?

I will tell you about that later.

Sir?

Celsa, tell me something.

What did you add to the batter?

Milk, cinnamon, syrup...

Wine?

A few drops.

Molasses?

Of course!

Oil?

Kemiri oil?

There wasn't any.

There you go.

Since it's imported, it's hard to find.

I had to replace it with a local one.

It's obvious.

Try it if you want.

No, no, sir. I believe you.

I'll look for a way to get it.

Please. It's important.

-Call the trio.
-Yes, sir.

We're having dinner at 9:30.

The menu, my version of Beef Clark.

-Pheasant or pork p�t�?
-Pork.

Good. Should I drive you there?

No, thanks. I'll walk
to lose some belly fat.

If I get tired, I'll take a cab.

-Good.
-Give me some cash, please.

-Yes. How much do you need?
-Thanks. Around 4000 pesos.

Very well.

I have 3600.

Okay. Alright. That'll be enough.

Sir, we need to talk
about the cash situation.

I've been doing the math, and...

Yes, perfect. When I get back, Celsa.

-You...
-Thank you so much.

-Bye. See you soon.
-Goodbye, sir.

Sir, a little help?
Would you buy some flowers?

-No, thank you.
-Please!

No, no... What do you have?

Cranesbills,
Forget-me-nots, Heartsease.

I'll take the Heartsease.

-How much is it?
-Five hundred.

Five hundred? Alright.
Here you go.

Please take it. Alright.

May God repay you.

I'd rather He doesn't repay me.
He had nothing to do with this business.

Just in case!

I should tell you that God is not real.

What can I bring you, sir?

The whole menu.

All of it?

Yes, all of it.

Of course. Something to drink?

For starters,
a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

For the main dishes,
you can get me a Cabernet Franc.

Perfect. Excuse me.

Gastronomic reviews
are better enjoyed when they're negative.

The insult is more pleasurable
for the reader

and more interesting for the writer.

The octopus carpaccio dared to include
a passion fruit reduction.

A crime against humanity

comparable to putting
sweet milk spread

on a Tucuman Empanada.

The Rigatoni all'Amatriciana
were no more interesting

than noodles made by a kid
who just started living on their own.

The faux basil burrata,

which is nothing more
than mozzarella injected with milk cream,

is, alas, a metaphor

for the misguided intentions
of this restaurant.

How was it?

Excellent would be an understatement!

Another glass
of this Cabernet Franc, please.

And the bill.

It's on the house, sir.

-Please.
-Okay.

This is for you, then.

-Alright...
-Here you go.

Thank you, sir.

Let me take this.

Please.

Thank you.

Oh!

Boy, I look at you and it hits me.

You have the exact same nose
as your grandfather, Arturo.

Yes, yes. I don't know. Maybe.

-I miss Arturo very much.
-Yeah...

What's this?

Oh, yes! This is for you.

I thought...
what can I give to Luciano?

With all his money,
what could he possibly need?

So I brought you Heartsease.
Do you like them?

Beautiful. Yes, very pretty.

Coffee's good here!

Coffee in Buenos Aires is unique.

-So it's good?
-No, unique.

They serve it boiling hot in a full cup,

and it corrodes you like sulfuric acid.
I call it caustic coffee.

Of course.

Well, Manuel, listen...

I wanted to talk to you
about a fairly unpleasant situation.

As I told you the last time we spoke,

my grandfather liked you a lot.

And you don't?

No! Me too. Yes.

Everyone at the publisher
has a lot of respect for you.

The thing is...
I'm still running a business, right?

A business?

Of course. Editing, distributing,
and selling books is a business, Manuel.

Not everything is for art's sake.

I suspected that...

Well, what I want to know, Manuel,

is if you recall
having a contract with us,

and that I paid you twice in advance,

and we still haven't seen half a page
in almost three years.

I'm perfectly aware of my limitations.

No! Not limitations. Please.

Listen, about this coffee,

this critique,
that's worth at least one chapter!

Anything that comes out of your head
will do!

You just have to sit down and write.
That's it!

As if it were that easy! You have
no idea what you're talking about.

I have an idea. Why don't we get
someone to help you?

A partner that does all the hard work
so you don't have to!

Those tactics don't work with me.

Well, I don't know your deal
with my grandfather, but I'm not him.

-I know that...
-I'm not done.

-Let me finish, please.
-Of course.

If in two months I don't have a book,

half a book, or something
that resembles a book,

sadly, we'll escalate the case

and see how we handle
the non-compliance clause.

Lawyers. That's just beautiful!

You give me no choice, Manuel.

I have a meeting now, so I must go.

I don't want to be late.

No, no, it's on me.
Don't worry about the bill.

-Good. Thanks!
-Good.

It was a pleasure.

-Goodbye!
-Like always, see you soon.

Boy!

You forgot your Heartsease.

Goodbye!

Bye.

After my first and last visit
to this "Italian" food restaurant,

yes, quote-unquote,

I agree that the 6,925 miles
that separate Rome and Buenos Aires

allow the chef to do whatever he fancies.

But this distance doesn't guarantee
impunity, because, watch out!

Whatever you cook,

someone's got to eat it.

Ristorante del Dante.

Rating:- anti-Mozart cuisine.

Period!

-Sir?
-Yes?

-It's for you.
-Who is it?

Clara.

Oh, no! Use your magic excuses.
I'm working, dear!

Sweetie... your dad can't come
to the phone now.

He had a root canal this morning,

and the dentist told him
not to speak for a few hours.

He's in a little pain.

No, no! He's fine.

He went to the cardiologist,
and they adjusted his medication.

I'm also getting him to eat less red meat.

It's what the gastroenterologist
recommended.

Don't forget, at 6:00,

we'll shift down from
the realities of everyday life

and relax a bit by talking

about lighter, more pleasant things--
food, places, trends--

with a very special guest
whom I deeply respect,

a genius, in my opinion,
Manuel Tamayo Prats.

And you, maestro,
how do you see yourself?

As a food critic? An artist?

A writer, a journalist,
a specialist in Buenos Aires?

Look, I have been and still am

so many things that, really,

you could say I'm nothing.

We often read that, roughly speaking,

you say that Buenos Aires
is greater than any other metropolis.

I never speak roughly.

Yes... you might've said so
with much better words.

But, is it true that Argentinian beef
is the best in the world?

It's the only thing we have.

All these years,
all we had was homegrown beef

because imported food
was quite rare.

And what's the result?

Having the best beef in the world?

No. The result is that Argentinians

have a very untrained palate,
unfortunately.

Meaning that our food is not that good?
Is that what you're saying?

That's not what I'm saying.

Our beef is extraordinary.

What is most incredible to me

is the insolence of Argentinian cuisine.

It's the only way to explain
hybrid yet brilliant monstrosities

such as tucopesto, for which
Italians would kick our butts,

but here, we love it.

We have sorrentinos
that are not from Sorrento,

Neapolitan Milanese
which is not from Milan or Naples.

That is brilliant.

How interesting.

I personally consider myself a foodie.

-A what? Sorry?
-A foodie.

A lover of good food.

I like taking pictures of the dishes.

Who would say!

Maestro, how about a ping-pong
that we've prepared?

-Eh, sure...
-Good! Anal�a...

How do you prefer your beef?
Medium, well done, or rare?

Bleu!

Bleu.

Bleu?

Bleu, yes.

It's very rare, almost blue.

Like sashimi!

Eh, Anal�a.

The best meat for Milanese is?

The loin.

And if you can't afford it...

Round.

...round.

Hamburger or chorip�n?

-Chorip�n.
-Chorip�n.

We ask Manuel Tamayo Prats
to stay for a bit more

because after the commercial break,

we'll ask him about the Gramajo Scramble,

salsa golf, sweet milk spread,
cornstarch alfajores...

Now... let it sit.

No, no, no!
My version doesn't use garlic.

-Okay.
-Good.

Let's see...

This is all that's left
of the Dijon mustard.

Add it to the list, please,
to buy some later.

Yes, sir.

Very neat.

Close the edges very well.

Yes, I'm working on it.

-That's it. Prepare an appetizer.
-Yes.

Shrimp cocktail.

And remember, a touch
of Worcestershire sauce, OK?

Sir! We couldn't talk
about the numbers.

We're running out of petty cash.

I'll work on getting more money today.

For now, focus on the appetizers
and nothing else!

Ignacio, my dear!

I'm so glad
you're the first one to arrive.

What are you going to ask for?

Not ask, propose!

-Well...
-Oh, my!

Cremonesi winery,
Cabernet Sauvignon 2013.

What a luxury! Nice...

Here's my proposal:

Choose any painting,
any painting you like.

I need the money.

Oh...

It's not gonna be easy, you know?
These leftovers are shoddy at most.

We already sold the best pieces.

Don't say that! Pick one
and just dump it to someone!

I don't know...

Maybe this one.

No, not that one.
Any other one but that.

Not that one.

Why?

Because I bought it in B�zios in '75,

and it was always with me
during the two years I lived there.

It was like my window to Buenos Aires.

It's the only one I have left
with sentimental value.

I see.

It's also the only one
with financial value.

No! There must be others here. Look!

I could try this one. A Garrastazu,
but during his worst phase.

The price?

No more than 15,000 dollars.
Even that's quite a stretch. It's hideous.

Please, Ignacio, stop messing around!

We're talking about at least 25,000.
It's a Garrastazu.

Twenty?

Okay, 20! But just for you.

I don't suppose
you have the provenance?

No. But, which year is it from again?

-Oh, right, 1928!
-Oh...

Just mention Dad,
and that always does it.

You can say that chancellor
Honorio Tamayo Prats

bought it from Hip�lito Yrigoyen

when they were imprisoned
on Martin Garc�a island.

Tell them the papers were lost
during the coup, that's all!

Very creative.

I'll do what I can.

I was going to ask you for an advance.

-Is ten thousand enough?
-Perfect.

My eyes, now free,
are open to new horizons,

able to see that which yesterday
my enslaved condition

prevented me from seeing.

And what do your eyes now see?

That the only way to fight back
in such a blind world,

is transforming one's vision
into an act of rebellion.

Very good! Nice!

Can you believe the followers
this character got?

People still ask me
to repeat the famous line.

Could you imagine what they'd
tell you if the film were any good?

Our host, always so kind.

But it's true. A mediocre film
made by a mediocre director.

But the character was good!

It was your talent that made her better!

A compliment!
What a special night!

Right!

Let's drink to that, please.

Cheers.

Gentlemen, madam.

El lomo Clarks.

That looks incredible!

It's all the maestro's doing.

I just followed his instructions.

Very well-followed instructions!

Excellent, dear!
You may cut it for us.

Excuse me.

Wait till you see
how incredible the puff pastry is.

Thank you.

No, not now. I'll take these later.

One beta blocker...

and a diuretic.

Weren't you supposed to get surgery?

No need to.

Yes, you do.

The cardiologist was very clear.

A young person has a 95% chance

of surviving this operation.

It goes down to 70% for someone my age.

If you add the stent

and a liver that doesn't
work so well anymore,

and the COPD...

it goes down to about 50%.

In summary, at my age
it's best to leave the cupboard alone,

and just leave things be.

Anyway, are we going to discuss
my personal health,

or can we start eating?

-No! Let's eat.
-Alright.

-Pal, bye. Bye.
-Bye.

-Bye, darling.
-Bye, thanks.

-Bye, thanks for coming.
-Bye.

-See you tomorrow, Celsa.
-See you tomorrow, sir!

Rest well!

Thank you!

Many people say that
New York is a city that never sleeps.

Believe me, there is another city at
the end of the world that never sleeps...

and that's Buenos Aires.

It's always awake,

lurking, waiting to push you
into the void,

or to give you a hand.

It surprises you, for better or for worse.

It's intricate, it's contradictory,
it's sophisticated,

wild, and enchanting.

And best of all...

it's unpredictable.

Eleven!

Oh!

Celsa, did you go shopping?

Oh, you're here!

Getting deafer by the day, woman!

You must get that checked, okay?

You went to bed late last night.

Did you find the Kemiri oil?

Are you watching the news?

I don't know why
there are so many news channels.

I don't know how you can stand
watching them all day.

Celsa.

Celsa!

Celsa!

Are you tired, dear?

Celsa?

Celsa?

Celsa!

Fuck me!

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