Original subtitles

Civil status, accounting sheets...

A few trinkets.

Monsieur Bailly didn't keep anything personal.

And the pastry shop?

Well, given Monsieur Bailly's situation when he died,

and the accusations of high treason that he was charged with,

his real estate has been seized by the State...

Don't tire yourself out, Master.

I get it.

My failure disappointed you?

Our failure.

It's strange. Louis XVIII seemed ready to give up the crown,

and then, at the last moment, he backed down.

As if something had played against us.

In Poland.

Something or someone.

Bonaparte will not become king.

Without a sovereign and without an heir,

France could fall back into chaos at any time.

Courtiade!

This kid better not make me lose the contest of the Almanach des Gourmands

the very year it takes place under my roof.

Take it back to the kitchen.

It's inedible.

For another house, maybe.

But not for the Prince of Talleyrand-Périgord.

And clean up this kitchen!

Antonin, the competition is tomorrow. We have to be ready.

Do you think I care?

Do you see the result?

Compete yourself, then. Because you can do better.

Listen, I'm sorry about Bailly.

No, you don't talk about Bailly.

No one here talks to me about Bailly!

Is that clear?

Yes, Monsieur.

I read the results of last year's competition.

And it's the incredible salmon steaks with crayfish butter and...

Are you deaf or what?

Only you are interested in this competition.

Unfortunately, no one is interested in your cooking.

My cooking allows you to be the best French cook.

While you are the biggest asshole!

It's going to be all right.

Imagine if we went far away...

No more lies or betrayal.

Do you ever think of it?

I must avenge my father first...

Monsieur de la Reynière.

Monsieur de la Reynière, what will the contest of this year look like?

Will it be a contest to designate the best French chef?

Or a fight to the death, ending with a suicide like last year?

A cook killed himself at the end of the contest because he had lost.

Is it the fault of the contest or his mediocrity?

Why choose Minister Talleyrand to host the biggest culinary contest in France?

He's a fine gourmet

who has spotted a particularly promising young talent this year.

And because he has an unlimited budget.

Why is the contest still not open to the public?

Because the public is happy to eat potatoes every day.

What do they understand about haute cuisine?

No, the competition must take place behind closed doors with experts.

Why do we always want to open everything to the public?

Now, if you would excuse me.

Who is going to win?

Monsieur de la Reynière, who are you banking on?

Reverse the two.

In fact, this competition is all about you.

Your ambition, your career...

I want my table to be that of the best cook in France.

The whole world will rush here.

And I need my enemies at my table, near me, to negotiate with them.

And what am I to you?

The freak we exhibit during meals?

Don't be ridiculous!

You're going to become a legend.

Even Joséphine, who's been a bit sulky since your little intervention

will be crawling to dine here.

So, what more do you need to be motivated?

Fouché's head.

Get out.

You still don't understand why you can't get rid of Fouché like that.

No, but it's his way...

of getting rid of me.

The Bonaparte itinerary.

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

Fouché has it.

And he knows I wrote it.

I'll handle it.

You, focus on this contest!

Must I spell it out for you?

I'm not going to do your fucking contest.

Your job is to cook.

And I pay you for that.

So let's get to work.

Marie-Antoine Carême.

Grand prix of pretentiousness and egocentrism.

François-André Laguipierre,

unbeatable in the category, "alcoholic and sex maniac."

Auguste Larcher?

He was selected?

Why? Do you know him?

I started at his place.

I learned everything with him.

You're not going to let yourself be impressed.

There are times when the student must become the master of the master.

Where did this come from?

Auguste?

What are you doing here?

I came from the restaurant. They told me you were here.

What happened to you?

A stupid accident.

A pot of boiling oil that slipped from an assistant's hands.

I was larding a roast right next to him.

What's the matter?

The contest, you've been selected.

You think I'll go with this?

I can't do anything.

It's the chance of a lifetime. You can't refuse that.

I'll help you.

I studied the Almanachs of the last three years.

And in 1802, it was Lacour who won with...

With salmon steaks in crayfish butter and oven-glazed rolled eel.

Yes.

Did you notice? Two fish dishes.

Grimod seems to have a penchant for the sea.

I'm looking for something precious. And coveted.

It is a map drawn on a linen napkin.

I think I know where the object you want is.

But the minister is even more suspicious since Bailly's death.

You'll have the rest of the sum when you bring me the object.

Very well, Your Excellency.

You too have a mission.

Princess.

My dear.

Consul! And eminent juror.

Stop flattering me, Grimod. I'm only the Second Consul.

When it comes to taste, you'll always be the first, my dear friend.

I'd like to introduce our third juror, Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.

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

- Madame. - Pleased to meet you.

Excuse me.

Speaking of Bonaparte, is he still angry?

What do you think?

You promised him a crown.

Instead, he received an incendiary letter from Louis.

Nothing more than a setback.

Impossible to proclaim him king if the Bourbons still claim the throne.

You know him when he's angry.

The candidates must be in the kitchen. Let's pay them a visit.

Of course.

Follow me.

We were starting to worry.

I'm here now.

What is Agathe doing there?

Be careful, Monsieur.

She works for me.

Not today, I'm afraid.

Agathe, what's wrong with you?

Agathe.

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

It's touching. And to think that it's thanks to me that you met.

Here are the kitchens.

- Please. - Wonderful.

Gentlemen, here are the candidates who will compete today to conquer your palate.

Each candidate will have only one kitchen assistant.

The competition will be held in two parts.

After each one, the cook who finishes last will be eliminated.

Of course, the dishes will be tasted blind,

and we will judge them with the most rigorous impartiality.

Bailly's blessing won't help you.

The competition can start.

First dish is your choice.

Only one constraint: it has to be from Corsica.

You have till 1:00 p.m.

Good luck.

Corsica, Corsica, Corsica... Aren't you half Corsican, Noël?

I have distant origins, but that's all.

So, genius, are we lacking inspiration?

Do you know any dish from Corsica?

I don't know, I've never been there.

Lapin à l'istrettu.

My mother used to cook it when I was a kid.

It's a rabbit braised with myrtle and olives.

That's it, we'll do that.

We're going to stuff it with viscera and with pork belly.

We'll never have time, Carême.

We have two and a half hours to cook the viscera and pork separately,

with different temperatures, with the sauce...

One problem at a time. Okay?

Let's do it.

I must admit that you did a good job in Warsaw.

Your salary.

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

the adoptive father of his cook.

He could have put pressure on his son.

What are you going to do?

I'm going to arrest him.

He wrote the itinerary for the attempt on Bonaparte's life.

Let me bring him to you.

Talleyrand has disappointed him. He could collaborate.

How do I know you're not trying to protect him?

Do you think I care about the fate of an unfortunate cook?

Bring the cook here tonight.

Otherwise, I'll go find him myself.

How did you know he was following me?

The minister leaves nothing to chance.

Noël!

Plates!

Are you okay, boss?

It did not hold.

We need something to bind it.

You make the other two.

- Is it good? - It lacks a bit of salt.

No!

It's hot.

Come on.

You're betraying me now?

I thought you didn't care about this contest.

Anyway, nobody is interested in my cooking, right?

So what's your problem? That I don't cook for you or that I cook for someone else?

The problem is you.

It's a shame, we could have done nice things together.

Now we'll see which one of us is the best.

Without having me to put in place your genius ideas.

Without my genius ideas, your cooking is classic.

When are you going to admit that you need me?

When you'll admit that you need me.

Funny, this little crown.

The jury has made its decision.

In third place, polenta with chestnuts and figatellu.

The flavors were promising.

They are completely drowned by a polenta disastrously seasoned.

The chestnut flour, a naive choice for its sweet side.

Shows a glaring culinary ignorance.

And the wrong proportion of salt is not a mistake, it is a professional fault.

You critics...

You are fucking Philistines

who spend your time explaining things you are unable to do yourself.

Come here, you moron.

Well, in second place, the lapin à l'istrettu.

The sauce is perfect, even if the myrtle and olives are surprising.

We didn't expect to find such unnoble foods here.

My fellow judges are far too kind.

Nothing holds together.

It's as if the meat is running away from the stuffing,

as if ashamed to be on the plate with it.

Its originality flirts with disaster.

Whoever cooked it must be a hothead.

But we triumph without glory when we conquer without danger.

Corneille.

Oh, if you claim dangers, we can offer you some.

Madame Napoléon Bonaparte.

Dear friend.

On learning that the Almanac competition was being held at your home this year,

we couldn't help but come and support this delicious initiative.

You did well.

Are distractions so rare at the Tuileries?

Let's just say that your husband's foal aroused my curiosity.

We didn't want to interrupt your debates.

Where were you?

The best dish is the aziminu of Auguste Larcher.

The different fish are perfectly cooked.

The broth has been seasoned with balance and delicacy.

- A delight. - Bravo!

For dinner, the dish is imposed.

And in honor of the First Consul, it is his favorite dish.

Not the chicken Marengo.

The chicken Marengo.

She was with Fouché.

The princess might want to change her companion.

Yes!

Henriette.

What a surprise.

I went to pick up madame's perfume earlier,

and the shopkeeper recommended this one for you.

Thank you.

Monsieur?

On the way, I met someone.

Minister Fouché.

He talked to me as if he knew me, even though we'd never met.

I'm afraid he's watching us all.

Did you talk to him?

Yes. He asked me what was going on here.

And I said there was a cooking competition.

Is that all?

Thank you, Henriette, for warning me.

She seemed sincere. Didn't she?

Rather cunning.

Chicken Marengo, seriously?

- It's pointless. - Pull yourself together.

You hesitate? You doubt?

You must win this contest.

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

I'm talking about you.

About what you're capable of.

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

And let it go.

Let go, for God's sake!

This dish isn't interesting? Fine. Then make it interesting!

No more of this.

I'll give you ten seconds.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

No chicken.

We're going to confit veal with a light sauce.

And we'll dice it for a more original touch.

- We add seasonal vegetables. - Are you sure, boss?

They said innovation...

Okay.

Go on.

Nice lie, that perfume story.

I don't owe you an explanation.

Really?

But who do you think you are?

Stop. Stop!

Let go of me! No!

Stop.

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

Ouch!

No, no, no, no.

- I'm sorry, boss. - Are you okay, Noël?

- Hold it tight. Hold it tight. - Leave it. Leave it.

I'll take care of it.

Accidents are part of the job.

Follow me.

I won't have enough time.

What did you think?

You thought I never cooked in my life.

When I was in exile in America, I couldn't afford a cook.

Here is a chicken Marengo, anchovies and crayfish.

Perfect!

Well...

Veal?

Marengo confit veal with seasonal vegetables.

It's intriguing.

Your Excellency, it's your turn.

I vote for the veal Marengo.

It's a treat for the palate.

And a little audacity doesn't hurt.

Brillat-Savarin, what do you think?

The chicken Marengo is a tradition that should be honored.

The one who cooked it did it perfectly.

I vote for him.

The score is one all.

It's up to me to decide between the candidates.

The Second Consul was right.

The veal brings character to the dish.

This dish blends the taste of architecture and the architecture of taste.

I applaud.

2-1 for the veal.

Do you mind?

The veal has an exquisite taste.

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

So to change it would be to imply that the First Consul has bad taste.

Right?

Madame, when it comes to cooking,

the only master a gastronome needs to have is his palate.

So I confirm.

Second Consul.

Isn't it tomorrow that you discuss your ambitious justice reform with my husband?

I'll be sure to mention our chance meeting here tonight,

and I will tell him how much he can count on your dedication.

Maybe I voted a little fast.

Tradition indeed deserves to be respected.

Don't give in.

We're no longer in a monarchy.

In the end, I vote for the chicken.

2-1 for the chicken.

Who prepared this delicacy?

Auguste.

Very well, then.

I hereby proclaim Auguste Larcher champion of the 1803 Almanach des Gourmands.

Please don't think that we're even.

You still have a lot to make up for.

To tell the truth, it's a woman you've voted best cook of the year.

I'm in no condition to cook anymore. She did everything.

Agathe Guichardet is the true winner of this competition.

Congratulations, Agathe.

Are you alone?

What's going on?

Come, quick.

What?

Useless. He's already dead.

What do you mean?

He tried to force me...

The stables. We'll put him in the stables.

We'll be seen.

No, we're going to go through the housemaids' wing.

They're busy up there, in the living room.

Letting her have the title after such a lie?

A dangerous precedent for our competition.

Ladies and gentlemen,

who could cook for Bonaparte's coronation

if not the winner of the Almanach des Gourmands?

No one else, of course.

Unfortunately, I doubt Bonaparte would allow a woman to cook for his coronation.

Oh, misogynist as he is, don't even think about it.

You know that Louis is clinging to his crown like a mussel to a rock.

I'm sorry, but this year the winner will be a man.

Because if you can't be a queen, madame, what would you say about being an...

empress?

A king evokes a painful past.

An emperor is the myth.

It's Charlemagne, Caesar.

It's a new future for a reconciled nation.

For once, I like your idea.

What does the lawyer have to say, Cambacérès?

Why not even have a coronation in Rome with the pope, like Charlemagne in 800?

Paris is the new Rome.

It's up to the pope to move.

So this talented, young girl is going to lose her crown for state reasons?

It won't be the first nor the last time something is lost for state reasons.

I thought you wanted to get rid of Joséphine,

not crown her?

Promises are only binding to those who receive them.

Hurry up!

You have to leave.

Now.

Fouché will arrest you tonight.

I managed to buy you some time but...

Come with me.

We'll go together.

We'll start all over again somewhere else.

Go and pack your things. The bare necessities.

I'll do the same. We'll meet here in 15 minutes.

I'll meet you at your restaurant tomorrow, okay?

Don't be silly.

Look at me. I'm a finished man.

No.

And you'll prepare the imperial menu with Carême.

With that arrogant, pretentious jerk? I'd rather die.

He's got talent.

Talent is seductive.

But be careful.

Come here.

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

Goodbye, Agathe.

Go ahead.

Is this it?

What are you doing?

I'm leaving.

I'm leaving you all this.

You deserve it. You've done so much.

Come here.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

You can't leave. You have to cook for the coronation.

What coronation?

Bonaparte will become emperor. A woman can't cook for his coronation.

They named you "best cook."

What more do you want, Antonin?

I have no choice.

I can't stay.

Cooking isn't everything in life.

Is that so? I've never heard this before.

Leave us, Agathe, please.

Do you know that Courtiade caught Henriette in a meeting with Fouché?

Of course you don't.

No.

Because I was wondering, how could you know that Fouché had the itinerary?

Let me tell you what I think.

I think Henriette warned you, but she also betrayed us in Warsaw.

I also think you're leaving right now to go with her.

What are you going to do?

You're going to tell Fouché if I don't stay in your service?

Is that it?

No. You're allowed to leave.

You're free.

Bonaparte will become emperor.

Your laurel wreath made me think of it.

You're still searching for revenge.

Fouché's so wary that he only eats at one table...

His own.

With just one exception.

Bonaparte's coronation.

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

But I'll catch up with you later.

Henriette, listen to me.

Fuck you!

Come in.

Liliane, last time you came to my office, Bonaparte wasn't even the First Consul.

I used to come up more often before the Revolution.

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

Why don't you join me?

I have a success to celebrate.

If you're here, you must have something important to tell me.

I'd rather show you.

Where did you find this?

In Bailly's belongings that the notary returned to the kid.

Did you know she was Carême's mother?

What I know doesn't matter...

but he must never know.

Chazot, it's time!

Let's go arrest that cook!

Where is the evidence?

No!

Monsieur?

Who came in here today? You?

Monsieur, I was with you the whole time.

Of course...

Send men to get Henriette.

I want to see her immediately.

I'll take care of it myself.

There's something else.

Our number one suspect for the attack...

He's just docked in Quiberon.

Cadoudal.

Put every one of our spies on alert, and pay the informers.

I want Paris to become a mousetrap.

Now, Cadoudal is our last chance to destroy Talleyrand.

I won't let it pass.