Original subtitles

OK? Go!

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 your head, there's 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 do swim back to Sydney?

He looks drunk. It's 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.

Hello.

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, returns tonight at 17:23, arrives at 22:18.

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

At Austerlitz Station 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.

Because, 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. You're expected in the next office. 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 honoured, only...

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

No, no, no...

I mean I learned very simple cuisine, watching my mother and grandmother.

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.

Always go along the wall to the small door you see there and 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 for the temperature. It's a 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 it and will oblige you 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? No one told me anything 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!

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?

Hmm .. I don't know yet.

Very well.

Get a dozen Cèpes (porcini)

Also get me...

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 bouillon.

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 bouillon.

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.

Um, 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 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.

Okay?

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

One layer of salmon...

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 Australia?

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 take-off.

Gentlemen, to your posts in 5 minutes.

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

very honoured 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: over-embellished 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 favourite.

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 half an 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

Regularly 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 favourite 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)

Yeah!

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 centred 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 galette, you see?

But keep the crunch, huh? -Alright.

Okay.

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 flavoured 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, la-la! 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. 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; 'entrées, main course, cheeses'

Do me a favour 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 didn'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 speciality 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 smidgen 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 favourite.

Voilà.

Do you know what a favourite 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"

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 stew-pan."

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 analysed 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 one centimetre 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 still 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.

Well ..

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 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 flavours 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 wanted 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.

Marvellous!

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 odours 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 for over two hours we've been trying to reach to you.

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 Elysée 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 didn't dare call you 'tu'

But today, Hortense, we want to say 'tu' for the first time.

To say we love as you are.

To say we'll miss you.

And you'll be hard 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 Scots melody)

♪ It's only "au revoir".

♪ Should leave us without hope, never to return,

♪ Should leave us without hope to meet again one day?

♪ It's only a good bye", Hortense (my brothers) It's only a good bye".

♪ We'll drink a cup of kindness dear . .

♪ It's only a good bye". (It's only goodbye)

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: 1181.1

preserving one's health by extreme regimens, 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 project there.

New Zealand is so beautiful!

It's so marvellous, 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. "Truffles".

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