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Identity papers, a few account sheets and some souvenir.

Monsieur Bailly didn't keep anything personal.

[sighs]

And the pastry shop?

Well, considering the unique situation of Monsieur Bailly

at the moment of his death,

and the charge of high treason he was facing,

his real estate has been seized by the state.

I get it. Don't bother.

I get the picture.

[Carême breathes shakily]

My failure has disappointed you?

Our failure.

It's strange. Louis seemed ready to renounce his crown.

But at the last moment, he changed his mind.

As if there was something working against us

while we were in Poland.

Something or someone.

Bonaparte will never be king.

Without a king and his heirs,

France could plunge into chaos at any time.

[grunts]

Courtiade!

The boy better not make me lose the Almanach competition

the very year that I am the host.

[door opens]

Send this back to the kitchen.

It's inedible.

This may be acceptable elsewhere,

but not for the Prince de Talleyrand-Périgord.

Ooh.

And clean up this kitchen!

Antonin, the competition's tomorrow. We have to prepare.

Do you think I give a fuck about that?

This is what you get?

Why don't you try, Agathe? Apparently you're much better.

Antonin, I'm very sorry about Bailly.

Don't talk to me about Bailly.

I forbid everyone in this kitchen to talk to me about Bailly!

Did I make myself clear?

[cooks] Yes, sir.

I studied all of last year's contest winners.

And it was the incredible salmon filets with crayfish butter--

Are you deaf or what?

You're the only one who wants to win.

But nobody cares about your cuisine.

But my cooking has made you the best cook in all of France.

When you're the king of jackasses.

It's gonna be fine.

[Carême sighs]

What if we just pack up and leave?

No more lies, no more betrayal.

Ever think about it?

First I have to avenge my father.

[reporter] Monsieur de la Reynière.

Monsieur de la Reynière, what's your opinion on this year's contest?

Will the competition designate the best cook in all of France?

Or will it be a fight to the death, followed by suicide, like last year?

Last year, a cook put an end to his life after losing the competition.

- Was it my fault or his mediocrity? - [laughter]

But why did you choose Minister Talleyrand

to host the most prestigious culinary event in all of France?

Because he's a gourmet.

And because he has discovered a particularly promising young talent.

- And because he has very deep pockets. - [laughter]

But why is the competition still closed to the general public?

Well, because the public is content to munch on potatoes day in and day out.

What do they know about haute cuisine?

No, the competition will be held behind closed doors amongst experts.

Why must everything be open to the public?

Now, if you please, I must take my leave.

Monsieur, in your opinion, who will win this year?

[reporter 2] Monsieur de la Reynière, who's your favorite?

[reporters shouting]

[Talleyrand] Switch these.

So it seems this competition is all for you.

- For your ambition, for your career... - [Talleyrand sighs]

I want my table to be served by the best cook in France.

The entire world will rush for a seat.

I need my enemies at my table, with me, to be able to negotiate with them.

And me, then, what am I to you?

Some kind of circus freak to exhibit during my meals?

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

You're about to become a legend.

Even Joséphine, who is still quite upset after that little intervention of yours

will beg to dine here.

And so what more does one need to be motivated?

Hmm?

I want Fouché's head.

[sighs]

Everyone out.

You cannot dispose of Fouché like he's some ordinary man.

Hmm?

No, but disposing of an ordinary cook...

is what he plans for me.

He has the itinerary.

The one you asked me to copy. The one you used for the attack.

Fouché's got it.

He knows I'm the one who wrote it.

[sighs]

I'll take care of it.

And you take care of this contest.

You're not listening to me.

I'm not doing your stupid contest.

Your job is to cook,

for which you're handsomely paid.

Get back to work.

Marie-Antoine Carême.

Grand prize for pretentiousness and self-centeredness.

[laughter]

François-André Laguipierre.

Unbeatable in the category of "alcoholic and perverted lecher."

Auguste Larcher?

They selected him?

[Noël] Why? You know him?

I started at his place.

He taught me everything I know.

[Liliane] You're not going to let yourself be impressed, I hope?

There comes a time when the student must surpass the master.

Where did all of this come from?

Auguste?

What are you doing here?

The restaurant told me where to find you.

What happened to you?

It was a silly accident.

A pot of boiling oil that a commis let slip.

I was next to him preparing a roast.

What brings you here, Agathe?

For the contest. Auguste, they selected you.

My cooking days are over. Look at me.

I'm finished, Agathe.

That kind of chance comes once in a lifetime, Auguste.

Hmm.

I'll second you.

I've studied the Almanachs of the last three years.

In 1802, it was Lacour who won with the incredible--

Incredible salmon filets with crayfish butter,

served with oven-glazed rolled eel.

[both laugh]

- Did you notice? - Mm-hmm.

Two dishes with fish.

It seems Grimod has a preference for the sea.

[Auguste chuckles]

I'm looking for something very precious. Very important.

It's a map sketched on a linen napkin.

[guardian] I think I know exactly where to find it.

But ever since Bailly's death, the minister has become very suspicious.

I will give you the rest of the money when you bring me the map.

Very well, Your Excellency.

Courtiade, you have your mission.

Princess.

Dear friend.

Oh! My friend the Consul. And also eminent lawyer.

Enough of your flattery, Grimod. As you know, I'm only the Second Consul.

In terms of good taste, you'll always be the first, my dear friend.

Let me introduce you to our third judge, Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.

Magistrate, journalist, but, above all, fine gastronome.

- Hmm. Madame. - How do you do, sir?

If you don't mind.

What news of Bonaparte? Is he still very angry?

What do you think? He recalls you had promised him the crown.

The only prize he got was a furious letter from Louis.

Oh. Just a minor setback, nothing more.

But it's impossible to proclaim him king while the Bourbons claim the throne.

You know how he is when he's angry.

The contestants must be in the kitchen. I suggest we go join them.

You're absolutely right. Follow me.

After you, Madame. Thank you.

[Carême sighs]

We were starting to worry.

Well, I'm here now, aren't I?

What's Agathe doing over there?

[sharpening knife]

Easy, now, Monsieur.

[chuckles] Agathe works for me.

[Auguste] Not today, I'm afraid.

[Carême] What's going on, Agathe?

Agathe.

I don't belong to anyone, and definitely not to you.

Such a pretty couple.

And to think that it's because of me you're together.

This is our kitchen.

[Grimod] Ah.

- Welcome. - Magnificent.

My dear gentlemen, let me introduce you to the contestants

who will fight to conquer your palates.

Each contestant will have the right to one assistant only.

The competition will involve two separate parts,

and after each part, the cook who is in last position shall be eliminated.

Naturally, we shall taste each dish blind,

and each dish shall be judged impartially and with absolute fairness.

I'm not convinced that the spirit of Sylvain Bailly will bring you luck.

Gentlemen, our contest begins now.

The first dish shall be a preparation of your own choice,

with one constraint: the dish must be from Corsica.

Contestants, you have until 1 p.m.

[Catherine] Good luck, everyone.

[Carême] Corsica, Corsica, Corsica... You're from Corsica, right, Noël?

[Noël] My family's from there originally.

[Carême sighs]

Does our young genius lack inspiration? Hmm.

Do you know any Corsican dish?

I don't know, Carême, I've never been, and...

Lapin à l'istrettu.

It's a rabbit recipe my mother cooked when I was a kid.

You take a braised rabbit and stuff it with some myrtle and olives.

Okay, let's do it, then.

We'll stuff it with intestines and some pork belly.

We'll never have time, Carême.

We need to cook the intestines and the pork belly

both at different temperatures.

- And then there's the sauce-- - One problem at a time, Noël. Okay?

Let's get to work.

I have to admit that you did a good job back in Warsaw.

Your salary.

I won this battle but also lost my own pawn in my game against Talleyrand,

the adoptive father of his cook.

He could have helped put pressure on his son.

So what will you do next?

I'll arrest him.

He drew a copy of the itinerary taken by Bonaparte.

He might work for you.

Talleyrand's been a big disappointment.

How can you prove you don't just want to protect him?

[chuckles]

Do you believe I would care about the fate of some cook?

You shall bring me the cook by tonight.

Or I'll come and get the boy myself.

[muffled grunting]

[shushes]

How did you know I was followed?

The minister leaves nothing to chance.

[Henriette pants]

[Carême] Noël!

[exhales]

[Carême] Plates.

[sighs]

[stamps foot]

- [grunts] - [Noël] You okay, boss?

The meat's falling apart.

We need something to bind it.

[sniffs]

[Carême] Tie the other ones.

- Is it better? - [assistant] It needs more salt.

[Laguipierre] No!

[Noël] It's hot.

[Carême] You got this.

You're betraying me now?

You said you didn't care about this.

And that nobody was interested in my cooking.

So what's your problem? That I don't work for you or that I work for another?

The problem is you, Agathe.

It's a pity. We could have been a great team.

Now we'll see which of us is better.

Without me, your great ideas are useless.

Without my great ideas, your cooking is unoriginal.

When are you going to admit you need me?

When you admit that you need me.

[Agathe chuckles]

Mmm.

Mmm.

My, what a pretty crown.

Your thoughts?

It's all right, I suppose.

And you, sir? How did you find it?

It's quite surprising. But I'm not convinced.

Well, we the jury have made a decision.

In third position, the polenta with chestnuts and figatellu.

[Brillat-Savarin] It's a pity. The flavors were promising.

But the polenta is a complete disaster, ruined by some pitiful seasoning.

The figatellu was horrendous.

A rather naive mixture of flavors

with bad taste and culinary ignorance.

As for the lack of salt, it's not an error, it's totally unprofessional.

[laughs]

Food critics.

You're a bunch of fucking idiots pontificating to others

on how to create that which they are incapable of making themselves.

[scoffs]

This way, you stupid moron!

- [Grimod sighs] - Poetic.

So, in second place, we have chosen the stuffed rabbit prepared à l'istrettu.

[Second Consul] The sauce is quite perfect,

even if the mix of myrtle and olives is surprising.

I was quite shocked to discover such plebeian ingredients in haute cuisine.

I fear my colleagues are much too kind.

This dish is a calamity.

One gets the feeling the ingredients are trying to escape

as if they're trying to jump ship.

Indeed, its originality is more akin to a shipwreck than a work of art.

Whoever is behind this dish must be a rebel.

"A last victory without peril is triumph without glory."

Corneille. Hmm.

Well, if the young man is in search of peril, I'm sure we can oblige.

[usher] Madame Napoleon Bonaparte.

[Joséphine] My dear friend.

When I learned that this year's Almanach competition was being held at your home,

naturally I decided I must come and support you

for such a delicious initiative.

Thank you, Madam.

Distractions are so rare in Tuileries?

Let's just say that your husband's protégé

has made quite an impression upon me.

Gentlemen, please don't let me interrupt your debates. Please continue.

We have decided that the best dish today has been the aziminu of Auguste Larcher.

[Brillat-Savarin] The different varieties of fish have been cooked to perfection.

The soup is balanced and has been delicately seasoned without excess.

- Marvelous. Bravo. - [Second Consul] Bravo.

For your next challenge, your menu has already been decided.

And in honor of the First Consul, we've chosen his favorite dish.

Oh!

Not the Marengo.

The chicken Marengo.

[Joséphine chuckles]

So she was with Fouché.

The princess should probably consider changing her lady-in-waiting.

- [knocks on door] - Yes!

Henriette.

What a nice surprise.

I went to get madame's perfume and the shopkeeper gave me this gift for you.

Thank you.

Monsieur?

On my way back, I met somebody.

- [Talleyrand] Hmm? - Minister Fouché.

He then began to speak with me as if we were friends, although we had never met.

I'm afraid we are being watched.

You spoke with him?

He asked me what was taking place here.

I said that there was a cooking contest.

That's it?

Mm-hmm.

Thank you, Henriette, for letting me know.

[door closes]

She seemed quite sincere, don't you think? Hmm?

I'd say cunning, Monsieur.

[Carême] Chicken Marengo, seriously?

- A waste of time. - [Talleyrand] Pull yourself together!

You hesitate? You aren't sure?

You have to win this contest. You hear me?

I'm not your puppet. So stop telling me what to do.

You're right, but I'm talking about you.

About what you're capable of.

So for an hour, just one hour, forget everything.

Let yourself go.

For God's sakes, wake up!

You find chicken boring? Well, do something about it.

That's enough of that.

You've got ten seconds.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

- Six. - [sighs]

Five.

Four seconds.

Three.

Forget chicken.

Let's make it with veal, with a light cream sauce,

diced, to make it original.

- And add seasonal vegetables. - Are you sure?

- You heard what they said about-- - [shushes]

[Noël] Okay.

[Talleyrand] Do it.

[door opens, slams]

Such pretty lies. Good idea with the perfume.

I don't owe you an explanation.

You think so?

Who do you think you are?

[Henriette gasps]

[coins clinking]

[gasps] No! Stop it!

Let me go!

[Henriette panting]

Stop!

If you don't want Talleyrand to find out, then shut up.

[muffled screams]

[panting]

- [Henriette grunts] - [groans]

[gasping, panting]

Ow! Ah! Ow!

No, no, no, no.

[Noël breathes shakily]

- Sorry, boss. - [Agathe] You okay, Noël?

- Hold this. Keep it tight. - Leave him be.

I'll take care of him. Leave it.

Accidents are all part of the business.

Come with me, Noël.

[Carême sighs]

There's not enough time.

[Carême sighs]

What did you think?

You thought that I'd never cooked before?

When I was in exile in America, I didn't have the means to pay a cook.

Mmm.

Mmm.

Mmm.

Hmm.

[Second Consul] Mmm.

We have before us chicken à la Marengo, with anchovies and crayfish.

- Impeccable. - Hmm.

Well, that's different.

Mmm.

This is veal?

Confit à veal à la Marengo and with seasonal vegetables.

Hmm. It's definitely intriguing.

Your opinion, Excellency?

[clears throat]

Well, I vote for the veal à la Marengo.

It's a delight for my palate.

And a little audacity doesn't hurt.

[Grimod] Brillat-Savarin, what say you?

In my opinion, chicken Marengo is a tradition that is worth respecting.

Whoever cooked this dish has done it to perfection.

I vote for him.

So one vote each.

Then it is now left to me to choose the winner between both candidates.

[sighs]

[hums]

The Second Consul is correct.

The veal has brought character to the dish.

This Marengo blends a taste of architecture

and the architecture of good taste.

Congratulations.

- Two votes against one for the veal. - [Joséphine gasps]

[chuckles]

[sighs]

Do you mind?

I must say, this veal is quite exquisite.

But my husband's favorite dish is the chicken Marengo.

And so to change the original recipe would be to presume

he has very poor taste.

Right?

But, Madame, when it comes to cooking,

the only master a good gastronome can have is his own palate.

I've cast my vote.

[Joséphine] His Excellency the Second Consul.

Isn't it tomorrow that you discuss your ambitious plans

for the justice system with my husband?

[chuckles]

Well, in that case, I will make sure to mention to him this evening

about our chance meeting,

and naturally I will remind him that he can count on your loyalty in all measures.

Maybe I was being presumptuous.

I must agree, tradition should be respected.

Don't back down.

We're no longer in a monarchy.

I vote for the chicken Marengo.

[Joséphine chuckles] So there we are. Two votes to one for the chicken.

And who cooked this dish?

- [Agathe, softly] Auguste. - [Auguste sighs]

Very well.

It is my honor to announce Auguste Larcher

champion of the Almanach des Gourmands 1803.

- Oh! - [applauding]

Don't imagine for one second that we are even.

There is much yet to be pardoned.

I must make a confession.

Gentlemen, you have promoted a woman best cook in France.

My days as a cook are now over. Everything was cooked by her.

This year's rightful winner is Agathe Guichardet.

Bravo, Agathe.

[sighs]

[sighs]

Are you alone?

Is something wrong?

Quick, come in.

What is it?

[Carême panting]

[Henriette] Don't waste your breath. He's dead.

What happened?

He tried to rape me.

The stables. Quick. We'll hide the body there.

People will see us.

No. We'll take the servants' entrance.

They're all busy in the salon.

[Second Consul] If we give her the title now after this dishonesty,

we are creating a dangerous precedent.

Gentlemen, please.

The only person who can possibly cook for Bonaparte

is the winner of this year's Almanach?

- Anyone else is inconceivable. - Exactly.

However, it's unlikely Bonaparte will accept

that a woman will cook for his coronation.

Oh, don't even think about it. The man's a misogynist.

You know full well that Louis clings to his crown like a barnacle to a ship.

Apologies, but the winner of this year's contest must be a man.

If you cannot be crowned queen, Madam, what if you were crowned...

empress?

[chuckles]

A king reminds us of our painful past.

But an emperor is a myth.

Charlemagne, Caesar.

A new future for a newly reconciled nation.

For once, my dear sir, I find your idea most pleasant.

[Talleyrand chuckles]

And what says our judge, Cambacérès?

And why not a coronation in Rome with the Pope,

like what happened with Charlemagne?

Paris is the new Rome.

It should be the Pope who comes to Paris.

So what you're saying is that this talented young girl

shall be deprived of her crown for political reasons?

This is not the first time and most certainly not the last

that politics shall win.

[whispering] I thought that you preferred to be rid of Joséphine.

Now you want her to be crowned?

Promises are binding only for those who receive them.

[grunts]

[Henriette] Hurry up.

You have to leave, Antonin.

Immediately.

Fouché is planning to arrest you tonight.

I managed to buy you some time.

Come with me.

Run away with me.

We can begin a whole new life.

Go pack your things. The strict minimum.

Wait for me, okay? We'll meet back here in 15 minutes.

I'll see you at your restaurant tomorrow.

Don't be stupid, Agathe. Look at me. It's over for me.

Auguste.

And you will prepare an emperor's meal with Carême.

With that arrogant, pretentious jerk? Over my dead body.

[chuckles]

He's got talent.

Talent is very attractive.

But watch out for yourself.

Give me a hug.

And don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

Take care, Agathe.

[sighs]

Mmm.

This way, sir.

Is it this one?

[Talleyrand sighs]

[slow footsteps]

What is going on?

Goodbye, Agathe.

It's all yours now.

With all your talent, you deserve it.

Come here.

Thanks for everything.

Take care.

Well, you can't leave. You have to cook for the emperor.

What emperor?

Bonaparte will be emperor. A woman can never cook for an emperor.

So you've been named best cook of France.

What more do you want, Antonin?

I can't remain here.

I don't have a choice.

You know, there's more to life than cooking.

Is that so? First I've heard.

If you would oblige, Agathe. Thank you.

Did you know that Courtiade surprised Henriette during a meeting with Fouché?

Of course you don't know.

- No. - Hmm.

Because I was wondering,

how is it that you understood that Fouché had the itinerary?

Hmm?

Let me tell you what I think.

I think it was Henriette that told you.

And I think she was also the one who betrayed us in Warsaw.

And I think that you were just about to leave with her.

So what are you going to do?

I presume you'll give it back to Fouché if I stop doing your bidding?

Is that it?

No. Leave if you want to.

You're a free man.

And Bonaparte shall be emperor.

It was your laurel wreath that made me think of it.

You still want your revenge.

Fouché is terrified of being poisoned, so he eats at one table, his own.

With one exception.

When they feast Napoleon.

Mmm.

I can't betray my father's love. I'm sorry.

But I'll catch up with you later.

Henriette, listen to me.

To hell with you!

[knocks on door]

Come in.

[door opens]

[door closes]

Liliane.

I think the last time you came to my office,

Bonaparte had not been made First Consul.

Before the Revolution I came more often,

but now, with all your valets, you don't need me anymore.

[chuckles] Have a drink with me.

I have something to celebrate.

If you are here, I guess you have something important to tell me, Liliane.

To show you, Monsieur.

Where did you find this?

I found it in Bailly's belongings that were returned to the boy.

Did you know she was the mother of the boy?

What I know does not matter.

But Carême, he must never know.

Chazot, it's time to go!

It's time to arrest that cook.

Where's the evidence?

No!

Monsieur?

Who was in my office today? You?

Monsieur, I... I was with you the entire day.

But of course.

Send your men to find Henriette.

Bring her to me immediately.

I'll take care of it myself.

[breathes deeply]

I have something else.

Our main suspect for the attack,

he just landed in Quiberon.

Cadoudal.

Have every one of our spies on alert, and pay our informants.

Make sure that Paris becomes a mousetrap.

Chazot, Cadoudal is now our last chance to destroy Talleyrand.

This time he will be punished.

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