Original subtitles

Hmm.

Acceptable.

Yes!

Now to get to the good stuff

-and finally learn to cut... -Nori.

What!

You will next learn to toast Nori.

Oh, come on. No one cares about seaweed.

It's all about the fish.

No. Each dish lives and dies by its ingredients.

-All of them. -He's right.

Each step must be perfected before unlocking the next.

What is he doing here?

Today's lesson is over.

-You are dismissed. -But...

Fine. Okay.

I wasn't aware you had taken an apprentice.

Caviar bump?

Mmm-mmm.

Ah!

It's a sacred relationship.

I remember the chef that mentored me.

Who made this?

Will someone please take credit for this dish?

Yeah.

Make it again.

Make it perfect.

Sure, Chef Garezzi taught me

recipes, technique...

Again.

Again.

Again.

Almost,

but... again.

But, he also taught me

to never cut corners.

And never settle for

anything less than excellence.

But the most important lesson he taught me,

was about my own personal limitations...

That I will never achieve perfection.

Mmm.

Like music.

Very few people live up to their hype, Jiro.

Even fewer exceed it.

I'm sure you have made

your fair share of satisfying dishes.

Not like this.

Between you and me, I'll never be a true chef.

I'm just a cook.

In fact, I'm rarely in the kitchen

getting my hands dirty these days.

But I have another gift.

I can recognize greatness in others,

a Salieri to other Mozarts.

And you, my friend,

you have it. In spades.

Which brings me to why I'm here.

You proved your loyalty to me,

sabotaging Rose and her fake meat.

So now, I'd like to return the favor.

I'm opening a food hall in the Middle Ring.

A way to bring cheaper versions

of popular restaurants

from different rings to the masses.

And now, after tasting for myself,

I want you to headline it

with your very own booth.

It is a generous offer, but my focus remains

on this restaurant.

Yeah, I had my boys

look into your overhead.

The quality of fish you buy

versus the low prices you sell it at, it's unsustainable.

I give you eight to ten months tops,

then, no more feeding the underprivileged.

No more apprenticeship.

No more restaurant.

But if you expand it at the food hall,

you could bring in a wealthier clientele,

a new revenue stream,

that would let you keep this place open.

A place we both know, you're willing to kill for.

Another one of your talents I could use.

I've witnessed the power you wield.

I offer you all of my services.

Perhaps then, you can help me

take my restaurant to the next level.

Well, okay.

Can I help you?

Quieres un tamale?

-Uh... yeah. Okay. -Gracias.

Thank you.

Shit.

-So? -We have a deal.

Oh, he'll be incredibly useful in swaying the investors.

He'll open the food hall,

then we'll steal his techniques,

name and credibility, like we've done to all

the other schmuck chefs in the Outer Ring.

Everyone's useful.

Until they're not.

I'd like to place an order.

A baker's dozen for Bob,

and should you throw in a half dozen for Jiro,

I'd happily pay more.

Say, an exclusive contract to serve your goods at

all my restaurants?

Uh... uh.

I accept.

As you can see,

we're merely months away from opening.

I thought you said early October.

You can't rush greatness.

Ah, cuisine reduced to retail.

How gauche.

Save some five-dollar words for your next review, Alister.

Enough chit-chatting.

I got a better use for your mouths.

Irasshai.

Ooh.

-Don't mind if I do. -This is not for the help.

Only those who matter.

Oh, right. Sorry, sir.

Oh!

-This is... -Mmm.

This is absolutely astonishing.

Well, look at that.

Even the critic is speechless.

Wow.

This tour is a private event.

Oh, and here's my invite,.

Sorry, honey. No search warrant.

-No dice. -Right.

Why don't you go, call for backup, or something?

Let's see how that plays out for you.

Shoot.

Catering for the tour.

Hmm? Mmm.

Mmm-mmm.

Psycho.

With all of you on board,

we'll bring in a lot of business.

We'll all be a lot richer.

Huh.

Caviar bump.

Mmm.

I'm telling you,

something big is boiling over between Bob and Rose.

And somehow, this unassuming sushi chef

from the Outer Ring is at the center of it.

What's his angle?

That's what I'm trying to find out.

Well, I need something concrete, not a hunch,

or wild theory like your body abductor boogie man.

Uh, it's not a hunch.

It's an open investigation.

And I am as right about my boogie man as I am about Jiro.

I believe you.

Now, bring me proof.

We're not gonna talk about this?

I got high ranking city council members,

cozying up to Bob, in broad daylight.

I couldn't get inside,

but I think, he's paying them off.

Shh.

All right, listen.

You need to proceed with caution.

I've gotten whiffs of deeper corruption.

I just don't know how far it goes.

You sound afraid.

I am.

I'm afraid of anything happening to you.

You're like a daughter to me, Cynda.

You're a good health inspector.

A great one.

But you need to be careful with this.

So, promise me.

I promise.

I'm not hugging you.

I didn't ask.

Now get back out there, and get me something I can use.

Here you go.

-Enjoy. -Thanks.

Okay.

What's up your butt today?

Nothing.

Oh, did you get scolded again?

If it doesn't work out,

I happen to know a fry cook at MacDuggal's,

that's also looking for an apprentice.

No, I'm actually getting really good at it.

Sure, Jiro won't let me touch a single fish,

but, like, my rice is super on point.

Aw.

So, why the pouty-pity-party?

It's Jiro.

He was talking to Bob, and it seemed like...

they were working together.

Oh, Cam.

I don't understand.

I thought he was one of us.

Look, I told you

not to have heroes.

They'll let you down every time.

Hello, you got an order for Brian?

Hey, you still got me.

Always will.

The Guerrero sisters versus the world.

Hey, sorry for the wait.

I got your order, right here.

You let Rose's assassin walk right by you.

She had food.

I thought she was part of the tour.

Please.

We all have jobs to do.

If I did mine as poorly as you, I wouldn't have any customers.

-I... I... -Take creme brulee.

Easy to ruin.

Not the right amount of sugar,

and it just tastes wrong.

No, wait.

-Not enough cognac. -Please!

-My own personal touch. -Wait, wait!

No.

It's just not as flammable as you want it.

I am begging you.

Please, I'm begging you.

No!

Got to get that caramelization just right.

Because at the end of the day,

people want to hear that crisp...

crack!

Anyone else want to disappoint me?

The food critic refuses to review my restaurants,

out of fear for his safety.

My investors are pulling out,

and the city is hard-lining me on permits!

Now, they all see me as vulnerable,

as weak!

Rose may have failed to kill me.

But she's killed my

food hall.

These people...

They were originally united

to invest in your food.

Perhaps, they can be won back by it.

What are you saying?

Your restaurants are considered the best in the city.

It's time to remind them why.

And how do you propose we do that?

I will cook them a perfect meal.

One that will make them forget

all about your problems with Rose.

That kind of meal doesn't exist.

It doesn't because it was banned.

A delicacy so decadent,

it must be eaten under a napkin,

to shield your face from God's eyes.

Ortolan.

Hai.

Even Garezzi struggled to properly cook ortolan.

You know how?

Of course.

-Amazing as always. -You're too kind.

-Thank you so much. -Have a good night.

Oh my gosh, that was delicious.

Ah, Jiro. You are three days early

to our weekly shared meal.

As much as I appreciate seeing your stoically,

stone-faced visage, I must ask,

what brings you to my doorstep, after close?

I need to learn to cook ortolan.

That's it?

Oh, would you also like to learn

how to paint the Mona Lisa?

And play Rachmaninoff's

"Concerto No. 3" while you're here?

Hmm.

It takes most chefs years

to master ortolan.

Well, Jean-Claude,

good thing I have a mentor like you,

to teach me in one night.

I have not agreed to this.

I know you serve ortolan off your secret menu.

The birds must already be prepped.

Shall we...

get to work, then?

Your iron will is absolutely exhausting.

I tell you that as a friend.

Let's begin.

First, the birds are kept in darkness for months,

tricking them into gorging themselves.

Their fat little bellies

filling up on grains and figs,

tripling in size.

Next,

they are drowned in Armagnac brandy...

This act, both, simultaneously

kills the bird and marinates it.

L'amort puis la vie.

Death. Then life.

The bird is then plucked, salted and peppered with care,

cooking in the juices of his own delicious fat.

Like a mortician,

preparing a loved one for a final, resting place.

Do you ever feel...

guilt?

No, I do not feel bad

taking the life of these little things...

for...

are we all not born in sin?

Even the birdies?

Hmm.

Some of us more than others.

And for them,

I serve this dish.

The barbaric pinnacle of gastronomic pleasure.

Why not indulge?

In the end,

judgment comes for all of us.

Welcome.

Given the unpleasantness at the food hall,

I want to thank all of you,

for agreeing to attend this very special meal.

I now leave you

in the capable hands of tonight's chef, Jiro.

Good evening.

Tonight, there is no appetizer,

no salad, no dessert.

There is only ortolan.

A small, rare, nearly extinct songbird.

The traditional means of eating ortolan is whole,

bones innards and all,

except head and beak.

To best eat,

the diner's head should be covered in cloth.

So that you may inhale the bird's earthy aroma.

An alternate explanation is,

a priest developed the custom...

To shield his gluttony from God.

Tonight, as you dine,

you can decide for yourselves.

Bon appetit.

You're precise, meticulous.

A perfectionist.

Okay, that's new.

No more toys.

Ow!

Ahhh!

The most important lesson I learned

from my mentor, Chef Garezzi...

is that perfection...

is a fallacy.

An unachievable fool's errand.

Sometimes, messy just gets the job done.

I don't understand.

If you spotted the baker earlier,

why didn't you ask me for help?

Like I said, it had been some time

since I was in the kitchen.

Every once in a while, it's good to remind this town,

how I got here.

Now, let's go check on our guests.

And how are we enjoying our... meal?

No.

No.

Rose's vegans...

I should have stayed back,

protected the guests.

I...

failed in my duties.

I failed you.

Again!

Again! Again!

Again! Again!

No.

I need you for what's coming next.

What's next?

We go to war.

I'm quitting.

You can find another apprentice.

Is this about the fish?

No, it's about you and Bob.

I can't be around anyone who would work with him.

I see.

I thought you were different.

But, Maria was right.

There are no heroes.

She is right.

I never claimed to be a hero,

but there was a moment today,

where I could have killed Bob,

pushed him off a roof.

Sometimes, messy just gets the job done.

Every fiber of my being told me to do it.

But I resisted.

Why?

Cam, do you like cookies?

I'm ten.

So, duh, yeah.

-Would you eat a raw egg? -Ew.

Or a cup of flour?

No, that's disgusting.

That is what working with Bob is for me.

A disgusting ingredient.

That will lead...

To a sweet dessert.

To bake a perfect dessert,

you need patience.

If you are able to trust me,

to wait and see...

Oh shit. The mayor.

You will eventually get the best cookie

you've ever tasted.