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When you accept a year's mission

to Antarctica, you know that...

Actually, if you're a cook like me and...

you decide to take a one-year
work mission in Antarctica

you know it'll be hard.

You know that working and living
conditions will be hard...

No, it's not working.

In and out, it's not working.

You're off you head, there no point!

But John, come back please..

There's no point doing it outside.
Up and down, nothing in focus

We're on a fucking boat! What, are we
supposed to swim back to Sydney?

He looks drunk. It is ridiculous!

- What did you want, John?
It's gonna be much easier inside. Hello!

John. John!
- What?!

[ CROZET ARCHIPELAGO ]

Hey, you!.

Who's that woman over there?

I thought there were only
men on the base.

It's 'La Présidente'. Our cook.

We name her like that because
before coming here on the island

she was the Chef cook of the
Président de la République

in the Palais de L'Elysée in Paris.

[ ALFRED FAURE SCIENTIFIC BASE ]

Meet the new cook, Loic.
- Good morning, welcome.

Oh, lovely birds!

I fattened up these ducks
for 3 weeks.

You ever fatten ducks?
- No, never.

Grégory will explain
how to fatten ducks.

- Yes, madame.

Fill this pot with eggs and truffles

so the eggs absorb
the scent of truffles.

That, I CAN do.

Meanwhile I'll prepare the
duck filets for tomorrow's dinner

You know the menu
for my farewell party?

No, tell me.

Quail bouillon with cubes of
fresh foie gras

Sweet and sour magrets, (duck)
potatoes Sarladaise,

and Saint-Honoré cake
with crème mémé (granny's cream).

Excuse me.

Gregory.
-Yes, madame?

In 2 minutes drain the vegetables.

Add them to the minestrone and
serve with parmesan on the side.

Hi.

I'm making a documentary for
Australian TV...

Is it OK if I film you a little bit?

I am very busy
preparing tomorrow's dinner.

No time. Busy, busy.

Someone told me that you were
the French President's Cook.

The job you had in the Palais
de l'Élysée,

was it much different from what
you do now in Crozet Island?

Grégory, I think the pasta's fine.

I'm sure it was not the same thing.

Can you tell your cameraman
to stop filming me?

-You can talk to him you know?
-No, it's not possible. I'm sorry.

It's not possible.

[ PÉRIGORD, FOUR YEARS EARLIER ]

HAUTE CUISINE
The flavours of the Palace

We have to turn around.

Alright,
we turn left after the cross.

Okay.

He's on the road from Terrasson.

So he'll have to turn left
right after the cross.

That's what I just told him.

Did you tell him to turn left?
- Yes, he just arrived.

-See you tonight.
-See you tonight.

The Prefect apologizes for not
coming in person

but he had
a last-minute problem.

We're just in time.

We're on our way. Call the
Brive Station immediately.

The 8:53 to Paris.
The train must wait for us.

Thank you, Nicole.

Your ticket, departure tonight
at 17:23, arrival at 22:18.

A taxi'll be at Brive Station
to take you home.

At Austerlitz Stn a car will take
you directly to Rue de Valois.

Ministry of Culture.

There you'll meet the
Head of Cabinet.

What's with this guy?
No, not this!

Is he the senior official
who needs a cook?

That, I couldn't say.
I don't know.

Yesterday, when Mr. Landreau
phoned me... - Mr. who?

Mr. Landreau -- president of the
Haute Cuisine Trade Association.

Don't know him.

He called to tell me a senior state
official was looking for a cook.

He didn't say much more, only that
he wanted a woman who could cook.

Go on...

With huge breasts, if possible.

He'll never let us pass.

Excuse me, you were saying?
No, no. Nothing.

Madame Laborie. Will you take
me to the Ministry of Culture?

No, I will. David Azoulay.

No longer Rue de Valois.
We'll go straight to #55. Come.

Number 55, where?

55 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.

You know where that is?
-No. Should I ?

55 is the Palais de l'Élysée.

Please... pardon.

Would you follow me.

Good morning, Madame.
Would you follow me.

Good morning. Come in, please.

Good day.
-Come.

Have a seat, please.

I know your time is short.

Without beating around the bush,
the President would be very pleased

if you agreed to run the
private kitchen of the Élysée.

His personal meals with
friends and colleagues.

I am honored, only...

I don't think
I'm the person you need.

No, no, no...

I mean my cuisine is very simple,
like my mother's and grandmother's.

This is precisely
what the President wishes.

He wants for himself, in the
Élysée, a mother's cooking.

Yes but I'm really not sure I can

Mr. Head of State...
of Cabinet, pardon.

I... mean...

I'm not sure I'm up to it, you see?

The President thinks otherwise.

You've been recommended by persons
in whom he has every confidence.

Excuse me, can you tell me who
mentioned me to the President?

It was Joël Robuchon who spoke
to the Minister of Culture.

Joël Robuchon?

You know Joël Robuchon!
- Yes, of course.

We met once, we exchanged
business cards that's all.

If you need a few days to settle
in Paris, I'd gladly give them.

Yes, I imagine I can't abandon
my farm, from one day to the next.

The animals, my uncle...
lots of things.

I'm sure you'll find a solution.

Well, as long as YOU'RE sure.

Ah! Above all,
never cross the courtyard.

Go along the wall to the small door there
and then go downstairs.

Or the east side of Rue des Élysées,
but it's the suppliers' entrance.

It would lack class. Please.

Another important recommendation.

The people you come across.

Young, old, known, unknown--
greet them all.

Say good morning with deference,
you never know who you've run into.

You have a sense of direction?
- Why, will I need a compass?

A sense of direction is
important at the Élysée,

as important as protocol.

Because this side is the East wing,
on the other, the West wing.

East, west.

Let's start with the west.
The 'Far West' as some say.

True, there are a lot of
hired killers there.

In short,

the Centrale prepares 70,000 meals
per year, served by a team of 24.

Copper cookware dates from
the time of Louis Philippe

and takes an hour and a
half to clear every day.

There are also steam ovens.

Gadgets you can drive like a
racecar...Wearing white gloves.

Pardon.

I'll introduce you
to Mr. Lepiq our Chef.

Yes. No.

We'll do a more thorough
introduction another time.

I'm looking for the Steward.
Ah, Mr. Moncoulon!

Mr. Moncoulon, our Second Chef.
Mme Laborie who'll handle
the President's personal cuisine.

Well, they're all very busy.
Come here...

Where's the Steward?

Lepiq still on the phone...

I don't see Mr. Coche-Dury.
I'll give him a call...

I'll just be a minute.

Hello, Philippe Coche-Dury.
We had an appointment, sorry for...

No worries. I was about to call you.

Well, excuse me...

I can show you the stockroom, so,

If you want to start now...

- Yes
Follow me.

You'll never need to shop yourself.

The Palace has its own suppliers.
If you need anything...

Sorry I can't stay, if you have
any questions or problems.

You know how to find me.

Sense of direction?
Yes!

- Later.
- Azoulay.

As I was saying, if you need
anything particular, you need
to go through me.

Absolutely everything
must be justified.

Here's the walk-in cooler.

Meat, fish, cream, etc...

Let's continue.

Here is the East dining room
of the Great Kitchen.

Here every day
at 11:30 precisely,

you'll be invited to share
a table with Pascal Lepiq,
his second and his pastry chef.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Good morning.

What a long hallway!

We call it "The Tunnel".

Mr. Luchet's not here?
No, I can get him if you want.

No need. I'll do it.

- May I present...
- Nicolas Bauvois.

Nicolas Bauvois, young pastry
chef who the Central Kitchen
has dispatched to you.

Good morning.

He will be your second.

Excuse me,
I'll get the maître d'hotel.

So, you were "dispatched" to me?

Yes, madame.

So...

A "Piano Lacanche" stove, madame.
- Yes, I see.

Same on the opposite side.

Everything's new!

It's true, they weren't used much.

What is this machine?

Is a Pacojet, madame.

A tool for making ice creams,
sorbets as well as...

Explain later...

And that? What's this all about?

It's a Gastrovac, madame.

Like a pressure cooker except you
make a vacuum in it with a pump

Turns on here, regulate it so...

- What's this?
This is the temperature sensor ...

A bit complicated, huh?

And this is an oven?
Yes, it's a Convotherme.

It's written there.

No. Yes. I mean, it's a steam oven.

Good for fish, vegetables,
some meats, at low temperatures

May I present Mr. Luchet,
Maître d'Hotel of Private Service.

Madame.

Monsieur.

You'll rarely know in advance
how many guests you'll serve.

Generally
you'll be notified at 11:00

For a lunch to be served at 13:15

Which will give you 2 hours to prepare,
you'll have to be here every morning.

You should submit
your menu suggestions to me.

I'll submit it
to the President's Secretary.

It'll come back, corrected or not,
to be sent to the printer.

The table is set before noon
according to the number of guests.

Clean napkins are ironed
in place to remove fold lines.

Please.

Then the silverware and
finally the florist.

Excuse me. What does President
expect from me, exactly?

I mean, are there some things the
President likes more than others?

Or he doesn't like at all?
What about his tastes.

Since I got here I heard
talk of paths, protocols,

hired killers, compasses.

But nothing about cuisine.

May I perhaps meet the President
to find out what he wants.

It doesn't exactly work like that.

If the President wishes to
meet you, he will let you know.

They're coming!

Gentlemen!

A little silence.

Good morning.

Good morning, gentlemen.
- Good morning.

Oh damn, did you see that?

- She's cute...
- Enough, now.

I heard before coming here you had
a Bed & Breakfast in Dordogne.

They say everybody
in the region runs one.

No, not quite.

I think you've been misinformed.

Actually, I'm one of the first
to organize internships

where I introduced a foreign
clientele to "French Cuisine".

Making foie gras, magrets, confits, etc

Voila...

I often housed young chefs from
around the world, Japan, the US

You must have read it somewhere,
in Le Bohemio, in Time Magazine...

You know we don't have
much time to read here.

Well, gentlemen, bon appetit.

Ah, I already started.

It's the first and last time
I eat with those "machos".

They're not really bad people.

No, just crude.

You've driven on roads
like this before?

Yes John, of course I've driven
on roads like this before.

I'm just saying be careful!

- John.
- What?

The camera, the camera!
It's the cook! Film her!

OK? Did you see her?
- No!

- What do you mean, no?
- I can't see a fucking thing!

Hello!

Hi!

Did you catch this?
It's great! It's beautiful!

John, what ?

Battery ?! Dick !

Jacques!
- Yes?

You gotta tell the Australian
to stop. It's starting to...

- I told her last night.
- Well, she didn't understand.

I was running, and she chased
me with her pick-up.

I can't put up with her for long.

I'll talk to her.

I just want some peace.
It's my last day on the base.

I have a huge dinner
to prepare, I'm tired...

I don't want them filming around me.

If you leave it up to her
she'd film people in the toilets.

I'll fix it.

Hello? Good morning, madame.

Very well.
- So ?

We're off. Six for lunch.

The President of the Republic
will eat

at the Palais de l'Élysée
accompanied by 5 guests.

Yes, we already know, Jean-Marc.

Ah?

You've planned something?

Hm .. I don't know yet.

Very well.

Get a dozen Cèpes (porcini)

No that's not it. Ah here it is!

This large Savoy cabbage.
- Hm-hmm.

Baby carrots...
No, I prefer those there.

...need that to make a good boullion.

We'll, start with
Mushroom Soup with chervil

followed by
Stuffed Cabbage with salmon.

Perhaps braised, perhaps with bacon.

Hold on.
What shall I write, exactly?

Stuffed Cabbage with Scottish
salmon and Val de Loire carrots.

I like it better when things
'come from' somewhere.

And for dessert?

Saint-Honoré, Jean-Marc.

You can strain the bouillion.

Yeah, chef
I'll put this in the oven.

My carrots steam for five
minutes...

then directly into the cabbage.

Ah, Nicolas, I need an etamine.

- What?
An etamine, a piece of thin fabric.

- To line my sieve.
- No, we don't have that.

See if they have one
at the Central, please.

- Yes, chef.

What does Du Barry* want now?
- An etamine.
*(Louis XV's mistress)

What for? an etamine?
- Use a rag.

She wants to line a sieve
and use it to stuff cabbage.

Stuff cabbage ?!

Then with the cabbage
she'll stuff the President, huh?

Easy there...
Gentlemen, back to work, please.

Chef...

Nicolas...

If they want something in
'Private', don't come to us.

There's a precedence.
Coche-Dury first of all...

Tell your girl scout leader
this isn't a county swap-meet, OK?

Yes, Chef.

Umm, they don't have one.

Fine ..

I'll be gone 15 minutes.
- Oh?

Meantime, finish the
Saint-Honoré.
- Yes, Chef.

With Chiboust cream?
-No, Crème mémé.

-Wait! What's a Crème mémé?
-Where are you going?

I'll be back in 15 minutes.

What's a crème mémé?

You're the Pastry Chef.

Mémé... something to do with
grandmothers?

Once you mixed in the flour

add some hot milk
to ease the separation

then pour it back in
with the rest of the milk.

On low heat bring it to a boil,
whisking constantly for 5 minutes.

Voila, found it!

Nicolas, above all...

when you add the whipped egg whites,
make sure the cream is hot.

So they cook a bit, see?

Good !

Line it with two layers of cabbage

Voilà.

Jean-Marc, a little coarse salt,
please.

Thank you.
I repeat the operation...

You need to get used to it.
-Pardon?

When I cook I need to talk,
narrate everything I do.

That's how I am.

-Excuse me.
-Yes?... Ah!

Here.

Exactly like my grandmother's.
Bravo!

Please, gentlemen.
Bring the dishes here.

Which is the President's dish?

Put it here.

Did he finish his cabbage?

-I think so.
-He ate the carrot leaves?

At first he looked surprised.

Cut a leaf, ate a carrot...

A bit later took a leaf with a fork

looked at it carefully and ate it
with pleasure, one might say.

One point in his favour.

You may clear the dishes, please.

So, can we keep this President
at the Elysée?

Private Kitchen of the Presidency, here...

A velouté of asparagus tips
with chervil

beef filet en croûte de sel
with fricassee of Chanterelles

and for afters,
Strawberry Tart Patissiere

and nougatine with pistachio.

-The door is still closed.
-I'll get the concierge.

No it's fine, I'll manage.

Excuse me. I took a wrong turn.

What is it? You are...?

I'm your cook, Mr. President.

Hortense Laborie.

Ah, yes, of course.

Is everything going as you expected?

-Do you lack anything?
-No, everything is perfect.

My obligations haven't allowed
me to welcome you properly.

But I'll soon take some time
to chat with you.

With pleasure.

I wish you a good day.

Good day, Mr. President.

-Voilà!
-Thanks, Hortense.

Well, um...

Please!

A couple of things to explain...

First, the truffles come directly
from my own truffle farm

There's very little in the gratin,

but tonight you'll find the
essence of truffles in the
potatoes Sarladaise.

Another thing...

the mushrooms in the gratin
are unfortunately lyophilized.
(freeze-dried)

I'm sorry, but...

If you ever want to taste 'real'
macaroni gratin with mushrooms

just visit me in Périgord.
Not far: 12,000 kms...

You're all invited!

I'll let you eat and I'll do
what I always do after lunch...

Now you're with Grégory and Loic
who'll take care of the rest,

bon appetit.

How long was she the President's cook?
-She worked three years.

-No, less than that.
-She told me three years.

-Why won't she say that to me?
-It's the same with us.

She doesn't like talking about that.

-Well she's really mean.
-You have to understand.

Since she quit the Élysée

everyone ask her: how was the
President... you know?

What did he like to eat?...

Did you know he was sick?...

If she slept with him...

What?

Couché: hmm... make love with.
...The President.

Political men, they like to have
sex with the pretty ladies, no?

The journalists, the assistants...

It's not like that in Australie?

No. We don't have
a President of the Republic.

No, it's different because
Australia is a monarchy.

-It is constitutional...
-No, they have
a Chamber of Deputies...

They make love 'comme des mad'!
(like crazy)
-Boys, boys!

The President wants to see me.

Please, the President awaits.

Does the President know
we're about to leave?

He wanted to see Mme Laborie.
He assured me no more than ten minutes.

The President won't be ready
for ten minutes.
- Ten minutes ?!

I'll call Le Bourget
to delay takeoff.

Gentlemen,
to your posts in 5 minutes.

I am very happy to be here
in this splendid house,

very honored
by the trust placed in me.

Excellent working conditions.
With an aide; a gifted young man.

Only...

Something's missing.

A direction.

I'm not sure I know
what sort of cuisine to make.

Make a simple cuisine.

I detest complications:
overembellished preparations,
useless decorations...

When I first came to this house

the Pastry chefs,
no doubt to please me,

took pains to decorate their
desserts with sugar roses.

Sugar roses.

I dreaded those sugar roses.

Systematically I set them aside
on my plate.

And systematically they
reappeared on my plate.

Finally, I had to send a memo
to get rid of them permanently.

I need to find once more
the taste of things.

Simple things, true things.

For example, I loved the mushroom
omelet you made me the first day.

If you cook like my grandmother,

I will be completely happy.

Give me the best of France.

Hello, yes...

Huh?

What, not yet left?

No one thought to tell
the President? - No.

Anyone call the Prefect of Doubs?
- No.

How long's she been with him?

5 minutes.

What could they have to talk about?
-Don't know.

Try to find out!

When I was small,
I loved recipe books.

You don't say, recipe books!
You too?

Do you know one by Édouard Nignon
called "Éloge de la Cuisine Française"?

No, I don't think so, Mr. President.

When I was a child I read cookbooks.

And that one,
by Nignon, was my favorite.

His recipes made me dream.

I knew them by heart.

I think I still remember
some of them.

For example, I remember...

Rouen Duck Surprise.

It began with these words:

From the land of Pierre Corneille

bring forth one of its plumpest ducks.

From the land of Pierre Corneille

bring forth one of its plumpest ducks.

We don't write like that anymore.
It was another era.

A whole other culture.

I think I could talk to you
for hours about cooking.

I end up asking if it wouldn't
have been more worthwhile

than getting involved in politics.

Voilà. They're coming.

Philippe, call the airport.
Tell them: take-off in ½ hour.

Thank you, Mr. President.

I don't believe this!
-Mr. President...

What's happening?

What got into him?
He said he'd be only 10 minutes.

Excuse me I don't want to
make an issue

of the quality of the suppliers
of the Elysée

but I think I could find better.

I mean, I'd like to choose
the products myself.

Without having to go through Central.

It's the Élysée again.
We have another setback.

For example, in Pazayac, a
small town near where I live,

I know a woman who raises
the best chickens ever.

And Coutency beef, you know?
It's in the Limousin region.

They raise them like Kobe, in Japan

Reuglarly massaged, it makes
the flesh tender and tasty.

Extraordinary!

Thank you.

Ms. Laborie,
can I talk to you a moment?

I have work, Mr Head of Cabinet
Another time.

The President's favorite champagne.

I just learned the
President authorized you...

Pardon... Hello, uncle?

Yes! I have a favour to ask.

Can you collect 3 or 4 kilos
of mushrooms?

Not big. Small ones,
like a champagne cork.

I wanted to speak
to Mr. Papas, please.

On behalf of
the Presidency of the Republic.

No, I'm not joking at all.

For lunch will be lamb chops
with herbs, potatoes Julia...

Aravis tuna with quince jelly

and "nun's farts" for dessert
(fried puffed beignets)

Voilà.

If the President asks
what are Potatoes Julia,

tell him Julia was my grandmother.

This is my chicken farmer
who puts aside for me the blood.

I use it for stuffings and sauces.

'Course, with a tablespoon
of vinegar to avoid clotting.

That's heavy!

Tell the President not forget to
taste the garlic bread croutons

that Mme. Deville slipped in.

Recipe:
Oreiller de la Belle Aurore.
(Game pie)

Prepare two stuffings...

The first of lean
veal and pork, the second...

of blond chicken liver
and chicken from Bresse

partridges, gizzards...
Almonds in proportion to size...

Mix an egg in beef broth and
reduce to a smooth paste.

Perfect, perfect.

I plunge the duck in bouillon

Add bouquet garni, sage...

While the duck simmers...

take care of the garden
vegetables from sommière.

Hortense, what comes after
the sage? I didn't get that.

I didn't hear.

-Mind your creme molle.

That's what I'm doing,
Chef Laborie.

Don't call me Chef.

I'm fortunate to have a beautiful
ancient name

from the Latin "hortus"

-which means...
-You told me, but I forgot.

Hmm... I don't remember.

-Garden.
-Garden, that's it!

'Nicolas', you know what it means?

-No.

-It means "the place
where you buy wine"

Chez Nicolas.
(wine retail chain)

Hortense!

Hortense!

-I looked for you everywhere.
I slept a bit longer than intended

Shall we go prepare this dinner?
-Let's go.

Go, go, go...

-Mr. President.
I was told you were ill.

-It was nothing at all.
Don't take these things lightly.

Health is the most precious good.

Every year in May in Paris...

I gather my family
and my close friends

at a banquet
in the Salle des Fêtes.

I'll be among my brothers,
sisters and their spouses

their children, of course...

for a family lunch.

I would wish, for
this outstanding lunch,

that you propose a menu.

Yes?

Ah, come in, Mr. Coche-Dury.

Sit.

I was explaining to Mrs. Laborie
the rather exceptional character

I wish to give
to my gathering in May.

I am eager to know the menu
Mme Laborie will concoct for us.

Why, are you invited, M. Coche-Dury?

As far as I know, Mr. Coche-Dury
is not yet part of my family.

The use of the word "us"
reminds me of Louis XIV,

who used to say "we" when
talking of himself.

It was through him that
all of France expressed itself.

I'm sure M. Coche-Dury meant that

all France was anxious to know
the menu that you will prepare.

Anyway, thank you, on behalf
of all France, M. Coche-Dury.

The President wants the table
set up in the winter garden

to be closer to his guests.

It'll be a lunch for twenty guests.
Twenty-one, to be precise.

The President will have lunch
in the conservatory salon

after which, here, he'll join
his cousins, nephews...

his friends...

-It was wonderful.
-Ah, thank you.

With pleasure thank you.

Pardon me.

In order to share the
traditional dessert Ysèges.

You're responsible for lunch

and the Central Kitchen
for the buffet and desserts.

Any questions?

My idea is to make a
family meal

centered around
the Loire and its tributaries.

We could start with Foie de Canard
en Gelée au Coteaux du Layons
('simple' family dish)

and corn bread.

So, Nicolas,
make me some corn bread samples

Something like gingerbread
or gallette, you see?

But keep the crunch, huh?
-Alright.

Then... what did I jot down...

Cassoulet de Petits Gris
à la Nantaise

followed by a Chaudrée Charantaise.
('simple' family dish)

-You know what that is?
-Chaudrée Charantaise?

It's a soup with fish
and cuttlefish fillets .

I'll serve it as a main dish.

Then goat cheese from Grévy.

and to finish a Jonchée Rochefortaise.
('simple' family dish)

Ah, Jonchée Rochefortaise!
-What's that?

It is a kind of 'fromage blanc'.

Made from milk curd
flavored with bay leaves

eaten on a woven reed mat.
('simple' family dish)

Something you can only
find on location but

maybe we can make one here.
It'd be fun, no?

That's for you, Nicolas.
-I'm happy to do it.

So what do you think
of this menu?

It seems entirely coherent.

And you, Alix?
I like this land/sea aspect.

We need a logical follow-up.
I'd stay in the Loire.

In the register of freshness,
of minerality.

We can start on the foie gras
with a Vouvray de chez Huet
('simple' wine)

then follow up with
a Silex de chez Dagueneau.
('simple' wine)

And with Chaudree?
The Chaudree...

I thought Coulée Serrant Vivigne

We'd close with a Clos Rougeard
des Frères Foucault.('simple' wine)

Alright, the Loire Valley.

Your health, Hortense.

5 cuttlefish and 3 flounders,
please.

Hello madame, the Chamber
of Agriculture of...

The Chamber of Agriculture
of Charente-Maritime,

they gave me your number.

I found it in:
"Know your Cuisine of Charentes"

It's an old edition, 1922.

1922.

Voilà, woven reed mats!

You take your curds,
put it on the reed mat

and fold it.

No...

No, we're not winning.

Ah, not the right recipe?

Too dry.

No white wine in the Chaudree?

Ah, you DO put some in.

But that's before...

Before... aft... ?

A little firm, but...

Oh, lala! Pardon.
I'll spit it out.

-Not... Not there yet.
-Not far to go!

So then, what?... oh, she says
everything backwards!

Mad... madame, wait.

The cuttlefish; sliced or whole?

No, no, the Cuttlefish fillets!

-That's too friable.(crumbly)
-Not quite there.

I'll try again.

Goodbye, madame.

Hortense, wait, wait!

A new attempt at cornbread.
I made some small changes.

Bitter. Too bitter.

We'll see tomorrow. Goodbye, Nicolas.
-Good night, Hortense.

Bitter.

It's good.

It's good. The menu was
accepted by the President.

Ah!

Good.

Perfect.

Gentlemen, let's hurry!

I brought the proposed menu.

Is this a joke, huh?

You pulling my leg
with this dessert?

I'm 'desserts'.

You are;
'entrees, main course, cheeses'

Do me a favor and remove
your dessert from your menu.

-Please!

Yes, but Jonchée isn't
dessert, it's fromage blanc.

Are you putting me on?
You're taking the piss!

Almond Cream, is a cheese?!

Elderberry jelly, is that cheese?!
- Hey, it's hot there!

Nicolas, keep an eye.
- I got it.

Chef!

I did't mean to offend you,
but I can't change the menu it's
been validated by the President.

The President!
I see your little game.

You play the victim
and I'm the big bad bastard.

I've been here 30 years, madam.
Thirty years!

I've seen people like you
too self assured...

Courtesans who thought they
were friends of the President.

Ordering others around...

I'm still here and they...

Don't play games with me,
you have a lot to lose.

Don't forget dessert
is not you, it's me!

-We can't serve this dessert.
-Not even as a pre-dessert.

It's still a 'fromage blanc'.

A specialty of Rochefort
which he likes...

and doesn't encroach in any way

on Central Kitchen's
mission to make cakes.

What's in this meal?
A beginning, a middle and an end.

Each dish implies the other.

There is an order, a logic.

If you remove the final touch,
what's left? Something lame.

Tell the President,
every detail is important.

What I mean is...

-Each product was chosen with
the greatest attention...

-Now, he has other priorities.

Fine.

How did you do that?

It's a fougasse recipe I adapted.

One third cornmeal

a drop of honey...
a smidge of saffron...

But watch, the trick is...

not baked in an oven,
but in a bread machine

not grilled in a toaster but
under a very hot salamander.

It's less lumpy.
As it should be.

-Great.
With foie gras, it'll be good.

We got the perfect consistency.

With your almond cream,
it's divine. -Thanks.

I wonder if the glaze is too much.

Ah, no,
I don't think it's too much.

It lends a floral bouquet
which contrasts

with the bittersweet cream.

You see?

Also, it tastes like candies
I loved to eat as a child.

So..

it's a dessert that brings back
childhood memories

without pandering to childish
impulses for Fraise Tagada
(Tagada Strawberry)

or Carambar ice cream. (*Caramel)
Know what I mean?

-Hm-hmm.
Anything wrong?

No. We're ready, Nicolas.
Bravo.

It's over.

I've been asked to remove the Jonchée.

"Asked"? By whom?
What's this?

I don't know. It came from
the General Secretariat.

The President knows?

I'd be surprised if he did.

I didn't ask for 2 aides
but since you're here...

I can't send you back to Central.
I'll do it with you.

What are your names?

Hm, Abdel Karim.
-Jonathan.

You know how to fillet a sole,
make a mirepois?
-Yes, Chef!

No, don't call me Chef,here.
Call me Hortense.

Also don't call me 'Du Barry'

Am I wrong? Isn't that
what they call me in Central?

You know why
they call me Du Barry?

I dunno. Do you know?

Do you often make foie gras?

Oh yeah, foie gras and
Countess Du Barry. Right!...

Not just that.

In the 18th century Du Barry
was Louis XV's favorite.

Voilà.

Do you know what a favorite is?

Eh... no, madame.

It's the the King's mistress

A sort of whore.

Well, off to work.
Shall we start?

Jonathan, how long for the
fougasse under the salamander?

45 seconds.

Go ahead with the slices.

Can you count to 45?
-Yes, madame.

-How are the snails?
-Ready to be set aside.

The aroma is good.
-Yes

Boys in ten minutes
we'll poach the flounder.

You ready upstairs?

How long's that, Jonathan?

-Eleven seconds.
-Count out loud.

Ten, nine, eight...

Everyone take two dishes, please.

Five, four, three, two, one, zero.

Quick, quick. Rev it up.

Well, Jean-Marc?

The President said nothing about
the Chaudree, but it doesn't mean...

Come on, don't just stand there.
Bring the salad dishes, please.

-Is the sauce ready?
-Yes, finished.

A third balsamic vinegar,
a third hazelnut oil...

A large third of olive oil
and a little third citrus juice.

-What Nicolas?
-That's four thirds.

Yeah...

Typical pastry chef's remark.

With their habit of
measuring, weighing everything.

You know, Nicolas, a cook
is not an accountant.

A cook is an artist who preforms
wonders with an Argenteuil Asparagus

A Paimpol scallion...

A drizzle of Modena vinegar...

Pardon me madame.

Madame Laborie!

I must congratulate you
on the success lunch today.

The Chaudree you prepared
was exactly like the one

we ate in my family.

This lunch occasion evoked
a flood of childhood memories.

I couldn't have forgiven
myself if I hadn't thanked you.

-But I...
-Madame!

Formidable, no?
-Yes..

Thank you.

Give it to me.

What does Chef call this?

"Millefeuilles
chocolate-vanilla bon-bon,...

bitter-orange ganache"

Oh...

You like it, boys?

Hmm ..

-It's good.
-It is.

-And you?
I do not know, I think...

associating vanilla with
bitter orange doesn't work.

Doesn't work because...

When you bite a vanilla pod
it's already acerbic...

bitter,even. And it doesn't go
with the bitterness of the orange.

It's redundant.

But technically...
it's well done.

Just has no personality.

I agree. It could have
been done by anyone.

No authorship.

Oh, the currant is very good !

Just kidding.

The President thought
it would please you.

Preface by Sacha Guitry.

"Bring forth, from the land
of fat pastures,

"this Normandy where high
class cows and calves triumph,

"a saddle of veal whose flesh

equals in whiteness that of
the finest poultry.

"Truss it with four loops of string,

brown it to a buttery blonde
colour in a flat stewpan."

Hello?

No.

No, I was not at all aware...

I'll come now.

Did you know
Azoulay's been replaced?

No.

No, it's not up to him.

But he's completely useless.

Mme Laborie, President's cook.

Yes...

As you wish.

But don't say it came from here.

I dunno, say it's a
girl from the Cardinal.

Ah, no, yes, we'll talk later.

-Jean-Michel Salome.
-Hortense Laborie.

I'm told you have a truffle
farm in the Périgord.

Yes ..

Well, I planted the oaks
just last year.

Before we can harvest them
it'll take 3 or 4 years.

Hello?

Yeah, and...?

Didn't I tell you !

He's the crudest guy I know.

He won't get an electoral
district that way, for sure.

Yes .. okay.

Sorry.

Well, then...

I asked you to come because we're
reorganizing the Élysée services.

With respect to the Private Cuisine,

We'd like, as of next week,

that the President's menus

be submitted earlier.

Ah...

To be examined more thoroughly.

Examined ... how?

The President's physician
requested it.

Well?

Hope you like working with
fruit, my dear Nicolas,

because baba-au-rhums,
bitter chocolate tartelettes

and pistachio madeleines,
are finished.

Why?

Starting next week,
as in politics,

we're changing dietary regime.

We analyzed all the menus
since your arrival, and

we must abandon all sauces,
cheeses and pastry.

And reduce considerably,
all animal fats.

Prioritise lean meats, fish...

steam cooking.

But for the President's guests
don't change anything, cook as...

It'll be very difficult.

Next, regarding next week's...

Oh, pardon. Excuse me.

What is this
'Boeuf de Marigny du Rhône'?

It's chuck -- a very lean meat.

Cut into 1cm slices served
with steamed 'Ratte' potatoes.

-Prepared how?
-A la cocotte.(casserole)

I'll explain.

I put in my casserole...

A layer of onions, a layer of chuck,

thyme, salt and repeat the operation
ending with a layer of onion.

-With me so far?
-Hm-hmm.

Then I cook it on low heat.

Then I take the broth

mix it with anchovy fillets, and
I cover it with this sauce...

Then I cook it one more hour.

Is delicious. It blends
both land and the sea.

But it's still a sauce.

No, no, no.

What we call a sauce is made
from a butter-flour mix...

moistened with broth or wine...

or with cream added.

In my recipe there is zero fat.

It's moisture from the onion
and beef which makes the sauce.

So there's a sauce, as I said.

Pardon me, madame,
but I know my craft.

I can cook whatever I'm asked to

but...

How can I put it...
up to now I chose the menus.

If President liked it -- good for me.
If he didn't -- oh, well !

Now everything's changing
and I'd rather...

Madame Laborie, for the President's
guests, it's stil you who chooses...

They didn't get me to be an
ambassador's or a minister's cook.

They got me to be the President's
cook. Him, not someone else.

If you want that to change,
fine. Just say the word.

We just did.

Today I learned a new word.

Hm?

-Trinquer. (clink glasses)
-Trinquer?

Drink a toast with
an Australian journalist.

So what did you shoot today?.

How did you put it?
'Professional secret'.

Ah, well.

David told me you've
been to Australia.

That's another story.

I will tell you later.

OK, please sit down.

Loic, I didn't ask you to clear away.

-Yes, but...
-Alright, it's fine.

Get that pan, you can help
serve the magret.

Hortense, come be with us!
Hortense!

This is ready.

Hortense, be with us!
Hortense, be with us!

Hortense, be with us!
Hortense, be with us!

Fine!

-Where are your tartlets?
-They're done.

-Better take them out or they'll burn.
-Put them here meanwhile.

Hold everything!
The President wants oysters.

A platter for six people in 15 minutes.

Oysters ?!

This wasn't planned!

Fine, Nicolas, call the
Brasserie La Lorraine, please.

It's not a good sign when
he asks for oysters.

I'm off !

Your assortment.

6 Girardot, 6 Savas oysters. Wait...

With a bouquet, if you have.
-And no ice on the tray.

Yes, and no ice on the tray.

Voilà, thank you.

-No ice...
-They got it.

Thank you, it's perfect, thank you.

-Here we are. We on time?
-Yeah, we're fine.

Right there, gentlemen, please.

I made a lemon mayonnaise

A mousseline and a vinaigrette
with shallots.

Very good. I'll open
two jars of foie gras

We'll go with
oysters, Arcachon style...

And to hell with the dietitian.

I'm afraid in this heat,
the oysters...

Nicolas, can you ask Central
to let us use their walk-in cooler?

-...to the Central ?...
-You want me to go?

No, no!

Come on, guys, at 3 o'clock
we have to finish!

Alexi, careful, you'll ruin it!

Back away.

They won't lend us their fridge.

Jean-Marc Luchet speaking.

Yes, I'll put her on.

-Who is it?
-M. Salome.

No thanks.

You there... What you did
is absolutely disgusting!

Disgusting!

Not worthy of a real cook.

If I weren't a woman I'd shove
my fist through your face!

If you don't like me,
I don't like you, alright?

'Du Barry' invites you all
to go fuck yourselves!

What happened?

I asked to see you because I have
a little problem, Mme Laborie.

Yeah? Did they tell you Central
refused to lend us their cooler?

Pardon?

With the heat,

if the seafood platter wasn't
immediately put in the fridge...

I don't know anything
about any seafood.

I asked you here because I have
a problem with your train tickets.

Ah!

Sit.

What's this round trip
Brive-Paris, 2nd class, March 3 ?

And this one, July 17?

-Ah, yes. The Brive-Paris
in July was for mushrooms.

-For mushrooms?.

After the heat wave in June
we had a very rainy July

in one morning, my daughter
picked over 40 kilos of mushrooms.

Never seen anything like it!

Since the President loves mushrooms...

it seemed the problem was
transportation.

I needed someone to do
a round trip the same day.

Who brought me two huge boxes
of absolutely perfect mushrooms

not too big, round, smooth.Voilà.

My daughter added
a box of Rocamadour cheese...

Madame, we need to stop this
train ticket trafficking.

-Because I...
-What trafficking?

It's not trafficking!

It's mushrooms my daughter picked.

I couldn't let them go to waste,
I had to do something...

Perhaps, but the Élysée
is not a travel agency.

I'm stuck with these train tickets

sent to my office, that they
want me to justify.

Everybody won, the President,
the Élysée. I don't see...

Imagine if I bought mushrooms
in Paris, of this quality?

Fine, enough. Let's talk about
the quality of your products.

I indulged myself in a little
calculation, that shows...

the average price of a meal
prepared by Central Kitchen

costs three times less
than a meal prepared by you.

-Yes, but...
-It's way too much!

You can't compare a kitchen that
prepares 3,000 meals per month

with a kitchen that prepares 150.

The organization is not the same.
The products are not the same.

That's for sure, seeing what
your suppliers charge!

At those
prices I should change jobs.

Want me to show you the receipts?

I'll show you the receipts.

Look, sir, I assure you
I don't waste anything.

I work with people,
passionate about what they do

at a level of excellence that
the President demanded of me.

For example, I know a gardener

who grows vegetables
that have disappeared.

New flavors that we've long forgotten.

-All this work has a cost.
-Madame...

It's a cost that
must be revised, downward.

Thank you.

This is my last cake here.

I return to France tomorrow,
I'll leave Alfred Faure Base.

But I don't think I'll
be alone on the boat.

David will be with me, Baptiste also.

Édouard too, yes...

Olivier, no?

So, just wanted to say a few words.

Tonight I remember a want-ad.

It's been over a year now.

"Wanted for a mission in
Southern, Antarctic Lands

a male chef - 25 years old
for a cafeteria style cuisine."

I got the job. Let me tell you,
I had to fight to get it.

I really wanted to come here.

But... let's not get into that.

I'll tell you why tonight
I made a Saint-Honoré cake.

Actually there are two reasons.
The first is...

an homage to my grandmother,
she taught me to do it this way

without flake pastry, but only
puff pastry dough and cream.

The other reason is because
for more than two years

I worked on a street with
the same name as this cake.

At number 55...

The scars still show...

But here I was able to turn a page.

Living like this
on this island for a year

in the wind, in the cold...

the isolation.

It gave me strength.

I won't take any more time to
share my confidences

because, what do I see?

You want to eat!

Let's cut the cake!

There's enough for everyone.

This is a good one!

Need something, Mr. President?

Everything's fine.

Madame Arvelet told me
you received the truffles.

Yes, you're perfectly informed.

Do you want to see them?

-If I'm not disturbing you.
-No, not at all.

I imagine they're the
first of the season. -Yes

Look at this.

Marvelous!

Château Rayas 1969.

Thank you.

Perfect.

They're giving you a hard time lately, huh?

Me too.

Adversity.

Personally, it's adversity
that keeps us on our toes.

It's a spice. Know what I mean?

Good evening, madame.

Good evening, Mr. President.

Fillet of sole,
I have that for the 25th...

-How about a less fatty fish: Cod.
-Cod won't get us too far.

-Yeah, it's better.
-No, it's a bit... I dunno, but...

Good day, Nicolas.
Good morning, Jean-Marc.

It turns out the President
won't have lunch here.

Fine.

-Good day.
-Thanks, you too.

So, it's Mr. Pascal Lepiq
who'll accompany the President

on his official visit to Tunisia.

During the four day trip
you, Madame Laborie,

will stand in at the Élysée.

With the understanding,

that you'll resume your service when the
President returns.

Which will be on the 7th.
Morning of the 7th. A Tuesday.

It's called a stress fracture.
That mark here on the tibia.

Invisible on a normal x-ray.
It'll heal by itself, if you...

rest, walk as little as possible,
avoid weight on the affected leg.

Hot stuff !

Hortense.

Hortense.

I'm here.

What's wrong? You hiding?

Just a little tired.

Anyway thanks for dinner,
it was... 'grandiose'.

The magret wasn't juicy enough.

Some days things don't work out.

I've never understood why.

Got the blues?
-No.

I think it's shitty,
you leaving tomorrow.

You know what I'll do?

-I'll get stinking drunk.
-Me too.

You'll be taking a risk.

-Hortense!
-Yes?

Ladies and gentlemen...

Ladies and gentlemen...

Will tell you tonight,
by way of a menu, the story...

Not yet!

The very 'spicy' story of the cook who
almost became Prime Minister of France.

This true story begins
in the Palais de l'Élysée.

That day, as he did every morning,

the President came sniffing the odors
that had wafted up to his room.

So what have you prepared me,
my dear Hortense?

Mr. President, I made of veal kidneys...
-No, no, don't say anything.

Let me first sniff your kidneys.

The President loved the veal kidneys
with sauce poulette made by Hortense.

Actually he loved everything about her.
He loved her beautifully stuffed breast.

Her divine saucy tongue, everything.

Even her little 'nun's farts',
so delicately fragrant.

It would please me if we
ate your kidneys together.

Madame, excuse me, but we've been
trying to reach to you

for over two hours

Sorry, but we need
you in the kitchen.

A plane may take off tomorrow
morning to meet...

-Come in, please.

-What?
A plane may take off tomorrow

to meet the President in Tunisia.

You need to prepare a platter for
a dozen personalities on the trip.

They'll confirm the flight
later tonight.

What the hell were you up to?
For 3 hours, everybody's been looking.

What time does the plane leave?
-At 6:50.

Hortense, I picked this rose...
The rose, where's the rose?

I picked this rose in the Elysee
gardens, behind my gardener's back.

Mr. President,
mind your arthritic knees!

Ay, ay-ay, help me up.

-Mr. President, you're hurting me!
-What a lovely dish she'll make!

What a lovely coalition we could form.

If you keep it up, Mr. President,

I'll send your kidneys back
to the Central Kitchen!

Oh no, not that!

It's my heart speaking, Hortense!

you don't have a 'monopoly
on the heart', they told me.

(You forgot your accent,
where's the accent?)

-What about the Légion d'Honneur?
-You'll never catch me that way.

I'll nominate you Prime Minister.

-Words, words, words*
(*Paroles, paroles-Dalida & A Delon-1973)

-You're beautiful, hmm!

-Words, words, words...
-You're still beautiful!

♪ Only words that you scatter to the winds.

♪ Caramels, bonbons and chocolates

♪ Thank you, not for me.
but you can offer them to another...

Well, it's over...

Fortunately, dear Hortense...

You had the good idea to refuse
the Prime Ministership of France.

One day you came to us on this
island lost in the Antarctic Ocean.

It's been exactly one year.

To be frank, you didn't
seem too at ease.

We sensed it wouldn't be
a good idea to piss you off.

Actually, you scared the shit out of us.

We weren't allowed in your kitchen...

we had to sit up straight to eat...

raise a finger to ask for salt...

not make French grammar errors.
-Otherwise -- dishwashing duty!

We called you 'madame'.
-We never adressed you informally.

But today, Hortense, we want to
use an informal 'you' for the first time.

To say we love as you are.

To say we'll miss you.

And you'll be hard to forget.

And your 'nun's farts' too.

So, it's only "au revoir", Hortense.

Only "au revoir".

♪ Yes, we'll see you again, Hortense
(Auld Lang Syne R. Burns-1788)
(Traditional melody)

♪ It's only "au revoir".

♪ Faut-il nous quitter sans espoir,
sans espoir de retour,

♪ Faut-il nous quitter sans espoir
de nous revoir un jour?

♪ Ce n´est qu´un "Au revoir",
Hortense (mes frères),
ce n´est qu´un "Au revoir".

♪ We'll drink a cup of kindness dear

♪ ce n´est qu´un "Au revoir".
(It's only au revoir)

I'm asking leave to go home, sir.

When it suits you best.
Today, if possible.

Here is my letter of resignation.

And a letter addressed to the
President of the Republic.

Thank you.

-Good day, gentlemen.
-Good morning.

I'm looking for Mr. Moncoulon.
-He's right back there.

Thank you.

Good morning, Mr. Salome.
-Good morning.

I want to inform you that
as of Tuesday

Central Kitchen
resumes Private Service.

I've told Pascal Lepiq in Tunisia.
He'll be calling you soon.

Well, good day.

Good day, gentlemen.
-Good day.

We got 'Private Service' back!
-Yeah!

Mr. President of the Republic

When you read this letter after
your voyage to Tunisia I'll be gone.

I'll have removed my black apron
and left the kitchen of the Élysée.

If I decided to leave today,

it's because I no longer feel
up to the task entrusted to me.

For almost two years, however,
I gladly gave my all to this mission

With dedication.

But today, Mr. President, I'm tired,

terribly tired.

So, it's time for me to leave

and make room for someone
younger,

more talented and
perhaps, more obedient.

My job was to work in the shadows
and was sometimes thankless

Occasions to meet you were rare

and I didn't always know if you
liked my cuisine

Nevertheless, I loved being
in your service, Mr. President.

So, it's with sadness that I go

There are many memories
that I'll take with me.

I simply hope you won't
forget me completely

and that you remember sometimes

of the cook who made you
beignets of acacia flowers

and risotto aux *trompettes de la mort,
(*death trumpets=black chanterelles)

because I'll never forget you.

Take care of yourself, Mr. President,
and beware of dietary regimens.

For, as Montesquieu said:

preserving one's health by
extreme mesures,

is itself
a bothersome illness.

I don't know if protocol
permits, but...

I send you a kiss, with
my sincere consideration,

Hortense Laborie.

You told me yesterday that...

you were in Australia

I have done some research there...

I was looking for a piece of land
between Melbourne and Canberra...

To make a truffière
(truffle farm)

But I found the perfect
place in New Zealand...

That's why I came here
on this damned island.

It was a very well paid job

And now I can use the money
for my installation there.
(*settle in)

New Zealand is so beautiful!

It's so marvelous,
it's a virgin land.

So new.

Not the gold rush,
but the truffle rush.

No gold nuggets, but truffles.

Do you like truffles?

I love truffles.
"Truffes".

Ü. It's difficult to say in French, no?.

Truffle...

Good.

For me there's nothing
better in the world.

You go out early in the morning
with your dog.

You walk through the woods,
you breathe in the earth

Suddenly the dog starts going crazy,
he stalks, he sniffs...

And there, at the foot of a tree...

...is perfection.

A miracle.

We have to go, madame.
-Yes

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