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IN THE 18TH CENTURY,

THE NOBILITY USED CUISINE TO FIGHT
BOREDOM AND SHOW ITS GRANDEUR.

YET THE PEOPLE
HAD BARELY ENOUGH TO EAT.

WHILE INNS AND POST RELAYS
SERVED SIMPLE MEALS TO TRAVELLERS

IT WAS RARE TO EAT OUTSIDE THE HOME.

THE RESTAURANT,
A PLACE OF CREATION AND CONVIVIALITY

HAD NOT YET BEEN INVENTED...

Butter!

Work, vigour

and butter!

Come gentlemen, be generous!

Ice for the seafood
and fire for the game!

How is this coming along?

Pigeon must be rare!

Vegetables crisp, pigeon rare.

Doing is not enough,
one must do well.

Make it big and tasty!

To pleasure the senses.

What are you doing?

I'm coating the meat with cinnamon.

This is not the Middle Ages!

Don't murder the meat with spices!

Bring the flavour to life,
don't mask it!

Benjamin!

Benjamin!

Fix that for me.

As for you Mr Cinnamon

it's dishwashing!

Dishwashing!

Hurry up, gents.

It's a big day.

Make way, make way!

Stand aside!

The eel patés and crayfish pies
will go first.

The Duke fancies crayfish.

They want the second round.

Do they like it?

The only remarks
concerned the China porcelain.

A new creation
to be offered as an appetiser.

That wasn't on the menu.

You know the rule, no novelties.

Caught your son in the library again!
It's not his place.

How often must I say it!

Right, let's go!

That table will have more chairs
than guests.

If one knows not how to,
one should not host.

- It requires rare qualities.
- Indeed.

Wealth, but also munificence.

Of course.

Taste, amenity and wit!

Let us face the facts, gentlemen

true Amphitryons are rare!

Most true, my dear Chamfort.

Your table is among
the best in the land.

Come now!

My friend...

You are the new Lucullus!

DELICIOUS

That's new.

What do you call it?

Delicious!

It's delicious.

Don't worry.

The Duke will love it.

He always does.

But today is different.

His guests frequent Versailles,
if this meal wins him favour

he said he'll take me to Paris.

You'd cook for the King?

You'll take me with you!

The Duke would like to offer
his comments.

Let us agree, a man without a cook
is a man without friends.

The secret is to train him oneself.

When my father found ours
he was a baker in a post relay

in a remote part of our lands.

The apprentice baker
became a scullion

and the scullion a master chef!

Gentlemen, let us never forget

that gluttony is a cardinal sin.

Good food is permitted

but we must fight the current fashion

for over-eating and excess appetite.

Eating whets the appetite!

And the table leads to the bed.

What news of your friend
de La Varenne?

I hear he's in serious trouble.

No longer, he hanged himself.

And I thought him a man of taste!

But let not such talk
spoil our appetite.

Offer instead a remark
to my Master of Dining

here languishing before us.

I tasted some fine things.

The sheen on the soup was dazzling.

The embellishment of the salad
merits mention.

Your butterflied quails
were fine to behold.

I have but one word, brilliant!

Let it be said, beautiful.

Gentlemen, it deserves vocabulary:

it was shimmering, gourmet

and glowing.

It wasn't a meal, it was a ballet!

Gentlemen,
we are glad you enjoyed it.

Manceron,
all was cooked to perfection.

I tasted your turkey-hen.
It was meaty, joyful

and delicate.

A delight.

Your whitebait brioches
melted in the mouth.

I found them...

cheeky and courteous.

Cheeky and courteous...

like Baroness de la Courtade!

So the Baroness is a brioche!

My dear Chamfort,
you have treated us well.

With such delights

Paris awaits you.

And how do you call these little pies

served as a taster?

The Delicious.

That is your only false note.

I agree.

I already told you, avoid initiatives.

Be content with the required menu.

It contains some mushroom or other

that has no place at your table.

And what is this pale vegetable?

Not radish, I hope.

Potato.

Tubers!

Who do you take us for?

- Germans?
- They say it spreads leprosy!

The potato is not only dangerous,
it is also bland and ugly.

The truth is, your dishes lack colour.

And feathers!

Your cooking is perhaps edible,
but it is...

provincial!

And why do you wear that beard?

This is not the 17th Century!

All that is beneath the ground is vile.

A good cook should know that.

Paris would not have it.

Truffle and potato

is only fit for pigs!

Pigs...

Pigs!

He takes us for porkers!

Little piglets!

Young hogs!

Do I look like a ham?

Apologise.

Manceron!

Apologise, Manceron!

I came by
to go and set traps with him.

I found him lying on the floor.

It was the stomach flu that killed him.

Though your father
was tough as nails.

The villagers invaded the house
in the two days that followed.

With the famine,
they were all dying of hunger.

They came looking for bread.

They destroyed everything.

Well, now that you're here...

I'll go back to my ruins.

There's room for three.

But if you stay, you wash,
because you stink.

He's your son?

Yes.

His mother died when he was three.

I'll show you the forest, if you like.

Like I did with your father
when he was a lad.

Bloody hell!

He loved the woods.

I doubt he'll join you.

All he likes is books.

Books and pencils.

It's a wonder he helps me
in the kitchen.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau
preaches the simple life,

in the open air.

The forest would be a pleasure.

So you'll be staying?

Garden vegetable soup.

Garden vegetables?

Nothing more restorative than a broth!

I fed your horse.

That guy outside
is old Manceron's son?

He's my father.

He was a cook?

Yes, but I make the soup.

Well, it's good you reopened.

Never enough relays.

Where have you come from?

Paris.

Paris?

What's happening up there?

Here we know nothing.

One day I too will go to Paris.

Here.

Yesterday's newspaper.

I read it, you can keep it.

Thank you.

Last week I was at the opera.

The libretto by Mr Beaumarchais was...

And what news of the people?

I heard there was unrest.

Empty stomachs make noise.

They shout in the street,
rob the churches

but head home
once the guard is sent in.

The people likes to obey

and begs for the odd beating
to remember it.

A docile beast,
nothing will come of it.

You're better off here.

You have a very good spot.

I know inns,
I'm on the road all year long.

With a bit of effort you could make it
a stagecoach stop before year end.

And if you change your soup!

Hello, François.

Why here?
We usually stop at Roanne.

Benjamin, the big trunk stays here.

Why not eat here?

No, we're expected at the next relay.

The soup is no better

but at least the maids are buxom!

Are you Manceron?

My name is Louise,
I want to be your apprentice.

I was jam cook for the Earl of Briançon.
I want to learn real cuisine.

Sorry, I don't cook anymore.

Goodbye.

Benjamin, bring that trunk up!

Offer your services to other nobles.

Many would love to hire you.

Sweeten your revenge on Chamfort.

What revenge?

I cook for Chamfort.

For his taste, his palate.

I served the father,
I serve the son, it's my life.

I owe what I am to them.

You don't eat enough, eat!

Meat makes one surly and violent.
I no longer eat it.

Don't talk nonsense, just eat.

You can't just give up on life
and let it pass you by.

I read the Montgolfier brothers
are flying hot air balloons.

Can you imagine?

One day we'll travel in the air
as we do on the road.

And we'll sing like blue-tits.

That's all poppycock.

The day that men fly...

cooks will be kings!

Where are you going?

There's one thing I don't understand.

Why didn't you apologise?

Nothing to apologise for.

Perhaps...

But your duke is in his castle

and you're here getting depressed.

You should go see him.

I'll wait till he calls for me.

In the meantime, we have water,
game, vegetables, that's enough.

That's all talk.

You've forgotten
what it's like to be poor.

Believe me,

you'll soon be sick of chestnut soup.

She's still there.

She refuses to eat.

Tell her to shelter in the stable.

I already did.

She said she won't budge
till you change your mind.

Cuisine is a man's affair.

Women don't understand it.

I may not be the right sex,
but I know it's my vocation.

And I'm willing.

I know all the famous recipes,
Taillevent's, Massialot's

I know them all.

You can read?

I learnt.

I'm a good learner.

Ask me.
What recipe would you like to hear?

Pigeon "poupeton",
rabbit in orange juice?

Look around you,
an apprenticeship takes three years.

Can you imagine
spending three years here?

I'll stay however long...

you think necessary.

Anyway, you're too old to apprentice.

I'll pay you.

My savings, it's all I have.
It's yours, if you agree.

The answer is no.

Truffle with potato
was a wonderful idea!

Your mishap with Chamfort
is the talk of the court...

even that of the Earl of Briançon.

I'm sure the Duke will change his mind.

He already dismissed your replacement

and is unhappy with the new one.

Here, there is neither ware,
produce, nor a kitchen.

I'm too old to be impressed
by the shine of copper,

nor will ladles and ewers
teach me what I've come to learn.

I've lost the taste for cooking.

Teach me and I'm sure it will return.

You must learn to dirty your hands.

- There you go.
- Thanks.

If you need more,
we're at the market every morning.

Put it in the cellar.

How can we have eggs
if you scoff them warm?

And maybe you can help?

Your bread is good,
but your wine is scarce.

The Auvergne roads make thirsty.

- Louise!
- Yes.

Wine for these gents.

A fine land.

Long live Cantal!

Shoo!

As my father said: God made water
to quench man's thirst,

but he had monks in mind
when he made wine!

Your father was a great man.

And what did he say about cheese?

A monk can do with little,
but he needs cheese!

You wouldn't have a little Salers?

No, sorry.

An inn with no cheese
is a monk with no belly!

Next time I'll have some.
I ordered a Roquefort.

Roquefort, Saint Nectaire,
Cantal, Chèvre,

a piece of each
would make a good meal!

You'd need a big plate.

Serve them on a platter!

It's a big moment.

Here, this is for you.

One's first rabbit is important.

Winter's gone,
but the thief is still hungry.

- You encourage theft?
- No.

I buy peace.

I'll send Benjamin to the villages

to tell them to bring us their flour

and we'll give them bread.

They're starving.

If we don't give,
they'll come take all we have.

Why inflict this on yourself?

I was tired of jam making.

Spare me your tales of jam.

We both know you've never worked.

I've been watching you.

You try hard, I admit,
but those hands aren't used to toil.

One need only watch you walk.

Only two kinds of women
walk like that.

Nobles and whores.

And if you were a countess

you wouldn't be here.

You lied to me.

You've no right to give up cooking!

The snows have thawed,

spring is rich with promise.

The nobles will be feasting,
showing off their gardens.

Chamfort will have need of you.

If so, he knows where to find me.

Make him jealous
and he'll return.

Offer your skills to others.

Your fame will bring him
to your door.

To seduce, one must entice.

Don't mix your trade with mine.

All I ask is a second chance.

We all deserve a second chance, no?

You're right, I lied.

When my father died,
I found myself alone

with a mountain of debt.

I was an easy prey.

At first, it was to survive,
to pay my rent.

Then, I carried on

from one brothel to the next

to that of La Gourdan,
the most famous house in Paris.

There, you were pampered
and powdered

and if you did well
you could even become a courtesan.

I did well.

You committed to teaching me
in taking my money.

If not, you are both a coward
and a thief.

It's lucky you're a woman.

No, I'm your apprentice.

It's time you taught me more
than about wood and dung!

What are you doing here?

You have no family?

No children?

Girls like you have bastards.

I lose them all stillborn.

I may be good for nothing,
but I don't give up.

Put on your cape.

If you want to lose me, say so!

And now?

Wake me when
you've found food to eat.

Those grasses taste like piss.

For the mushrooms, I advise these two

and the stunted one.

But this one,

you cook it only
if you want to get rid of someone.

It's an amanita.

It kills in three days.

Maybe it was for me.

There were truffles and quail
deeper in the forest.

If you can't recognise good produce
you'll never be a true cook.

So, that omelette... Is it ready?

It's tasteless.

Sit down there.

Why there?

Don't argue everything I tell you.

If I say sit down, you sit.

You listen.

Four words are all you need to know:

Gesture,

fire,

time,

tool.

But first you must know how to taste...

to recognise every ingredient

so as to respect it

and bring it to life.

A redcurrant
should taste of redcurrant.

A cabbage, of cabbage.

Sit up straight.

Close your eyes.

Why?

Why, why... Because!

Do you want to learn or not?

This world is ugly
because we make it so.

False, coarse.

The same goes...
Close your eyes!

For cooking.

Cooks must train their taste...

as musicians do their ear.

Listening to music
doesn't mean you know it.

You need to have learnt it.

This is our music.

All in the mouth.

Trust your mouth.

A walnut.

Yes.

Mushroom.

Carrot.

Mint.

Beetroot.

Don't do that.

So you are all alike.

I'm worth as much
as your barons and earls.

I'm paying, so I decide.

He ended the hunger revolts in Provence

yet refuses the seat for Marseille!

That is true nobility!

They say he's very ugly.

He's no beau, Mr Mirabeau!

His beauty is in how he speaks.

It gets you right here...

And women adore him!

A good talker never sleeps alone.

Wouldn't you say?

Sirs, I have an idea.

To write the menu on a slate
by the stable

to tell travellers what to expect.

What do you think?

Listen to him!
Six months ago he served but soup

now he'd bait the customer
just off the coach!

Well, it was very good.

Seasoned with her smiles and gaiety.

I told you it was a good address.

Can I buy some butter?

And I'll also take three loaves.

A land-lady like you
makes one hungry.

A real sweet!

As a confectioner, I should know.

Indeed, I bet you like sugared almonds.

Here.

They're yours...

For a kiss.

It's a tiny packet.

You should get some
better quality wine here.

Not stuff diluted with water.

You could sell it for more.

It's time you stopped drinking it
and caught some trout!

And if we displayed
the price of the meal?

No, you'd be better off
hiring other girls.

Idiot!

And what are you looking at?

Me? Nothing.

I'll leave you to it.

Your terrine lacks parsley.

You must vary the flavours.

Let the colours speak.

If you don't like it,
make it yourself!

I'm a cook, not an inn-keeper.

And I'm an apprentice,
not a servant.

I didn't come here to be fondled
by the customers, or the owner.

Maybe I was mistaken.

I'd best leave.

It won't happen again.

I promise.

Forgive me.

The terrines and cheeses
should be on display.

Customers like to see what's on offer.

It whets their appetite.

There you are! I missed you.

Sit down, my beauty.

Anyone home?

Well?

No one?

I'm here!

- Waiting!
- Coming!

My good steward...

What brings your noble visit?

Spare the sarcasm, water my horse.
I'm passing through.

Good day, Hyacinthe.

Well, my friend.

What happened to you?

You look like a bear!

So this is your lair?

I hear you've gone back to baking?

I make my bread.

But I bet you didn't come this far
to talk about flour?

What news of the castle?

You bet wrong, Manceron.

In fact, I have come to talk bread.

Because bread means tax!

You thought you'd avoid it?

All labour merits its tax.

Expensive for bread.

Tax is tax, for the oven and the mill!

Come Manceron, don't look so glum.

You wanted news of the castle...

So be it.

Old Gautier has a new wig.

A boar gored two of our best dogs.

And little Louis broke an arm
falling off a pony.

And in the kitchen?

An endless waltz.

The latest is unlikely to outshine you.

Even Francine refuses
to sleep with him!

Imagine that...

And the Duke is almost never there,
he spends his time in Paris.

And when he eats at home

he's in a foul humour.

Now...

let us talk of the future.

The Duke feels
you've mulled over your mistake.

He envisages paying you
a culinary visit.

Your penitence may be nearing its end.

And if I believe what I see...

It is most timely.

In two weeks
he wants an impromptu organised here

upon his return trip from Paris.

He'll be with a few friends and his new
mistress the Countess of Saint Genet.

She's taken with the culinary arts.

She dismissed the two cooks
who succeeded you.

She loves champagne, oysters...

And the potato!

We'll send you the list of dishes
for each round.

And this time,
spare us your initiatives!

Give satisfaction

and the Duke will take you back.

You have a second chance, Manceron.

Don't waste it.

This inn does not befit a Duke.

If you need more money, say so.

I'll take care of the staff,
as for the rest...

I imagine you'll have to be creative.

Don't spare the porcelain.

No chinoiserie.
Greek style, with cupids.

And also...

crystal glasses
and silver-gilt cutlery.

Tell the Duke I shall try to match
the honour he bestows on me.

Try not, make it perfect.

Receive the Duke as if he were a king.

Outdo yourself, Manceron!

Benjamin!

My horse!

We'll put the table here!

The Duke will sit here.

With painted backdrops
here and there.

It needs embellishment.

Ribbons and feathers all over!

We also need a swing.

- And a bale of hay!
- Hay?

Yes, appetite is more
than just cookery.

We'll need flowers,
fountains, sculptures...

Sheep!

For an English touch.

And swans!
Six swans near the source.

Swan stew makes me fart.

We'll convert the store into a cellar
to keep the food cool.

An exceptional setting!

That too is what we'll offer him.

- A gourmet casket!
- You can't do that.

Why meet the whims of a man
who humiliated you?

It is he who has returned.

He needs me.

You wanted me to cook,
then I'll cook!

Not for him, you are free!

And you are very young.

May his excellence,
the Duke of Chamfort, take his time.

A week is not enough.

With this fare I'd willingly wait years.

My friends...

I think I have a hard-on.

Marquises! Countesses!

You are all my friends!

The meal will be long
and the night will be short!

Wine, wine and more wine!

Vats of wine!

Good night.

Good morning.

Good morning.

I have an idea
to help swell your profits.

We set the tables
before the travellers arrive.

A man before an empty plate
is already hungry.

All the more so
if he feels he's expected.

He'd willingly pay more.

- A message for a certain Manceron?
- He's inside.

From the Duke of Chamfort's steward
for Pierre Manceron.

That's me.

Tomorrow?

It was to be next Thursday.

The Duke's returning early from Paris.
He wants an answer.

- Can you be ready?
- Ready?

I don't even have time to bring
my brigade from the castle!

What's your answer?

Yes.

Tell the Duke he'll be ready.

I'll reheat you some coffee.

Is my horse ready?

He drank, but hasn't yet eaten.

- You should let him rest.
- Don't have time.

Jacob! Three barrels for you.

- Thanks, lad.
- Will I unload them?

- What wine is it?
- Gevrey Chambertin!

You don't decide to be ready!

Either you are, or you aren't!

Benjamin! Benjamin!

Look at this,
jellied cockscombs in Madeira!

Glazed partridge... Benjamin!

Ortolan in vine leaves,
sweetbread terrine,

sheep's tongues Gascony style...

Forty dishes and not
a single interlude for one of mine!

What matters
is that he wants your cooking.

And the Countess of Saint Genet,

she wants a mousse!

A cinnamon mousse!

Not only does she impose the menu,
but she makes it precious!

Benjamin!

A mousse because she's afraid to chew,
or open her mouth!

Suck off a duke,
but don't show your teeth!

And cinnamon to boot!

Cinnamon, saffron, ginger...
I'm tired of their exotic spices!

I want to cook home-grown aromatics.

Shallot, chive, garlic, tarragon.

But not cinnamon!

I won't make a cinnamon mousse.

You can do it.

I don't know how.

Are you an apprentice or not?

- I dreamt I was a bird.
- No time to dream.

The impromptu is now tomorrow.
Go prepare the game.

Look what you've done, you fool!

It was your horse that reared!

Jacob!

Jacob.

It was his fault!

Help me!

Get this off him!

Come away now.

We don't have much time.

You're needed in the kitchen.

He's not going anywhere.

Eleven dishes still to do.

We're too slow.

- How's that salmon?
- Almost ready.

Show me.

That'll do!

Now the clay crust.

And dill, on the edge of the plate.

- Where are the puddings?
- In the cellar, shall I go?

No, finish the salmon.

I'll take care of it.

Flies!

Benjamin! Flies!

Not too much to ask!

He's just buried and you cook?

Do I have a choice?

He'd still be alive
if you'd listened to me.

We were free
and you prefer to be a lackey.

You're not the only sad one.

We'll have time to cry
after the banquet.

Can't you see it's killing you?

Get out!

Out!

Water!

Hurry!

Quickly!

Bring some more!

And linen sheets!

The Duke won't take
such humiliation lightly.

He won't just dismiss me for good...

he'll ruin my reputation too.

He'll strip me of the right to bake.

We have nine hours left.

It's not over yet.

I can't do it all again.

You wanted to be free
to invent new recipes

now you are.

Serve them what you served us.

Your crusted beef!

Your straw braised chicken...

They want potato?

Serve them your truffle
and potato appetisers.

This time they'll like them.

I'll be your hands.

Now the chicken.

Good.

No, there.

The pastry has rested.

You can roll it.

Good day, Sirs.

Make an alley with the vases
and lay the table at the end!

They're coming,
two coaches in the valley!

Heading this way!

Everyone in place!
Ready to welcome!

I...

You...

My name is Pierre.

The Duke' s appetite could not wait.

We stopped at an inn
a few leagues back

to acquire some pleasant fare
for the trip.

Whereupon, the stomach was no longer
the organ to be sated.

The man bearing this letter

will return my staff.

Tell them they are no longer needed
and I await them at the castle.

The year promises to be Parisian.

I doubt my Lord will renew
his generous offer to visit.

Perhaps this summer...

or next year.

"In the meantime...

"Bon appétit!"

"Hyacinthe."

He has no right!

He has no right to treat you like that!

He made a commitment
to stop and eat here!

All that time and effort
for nothing!

Chamfort has no right
to humiliate you!

He must pay for his acts!

He can't walk away!

The people will soon rise
against such waste.

One day it will sit at the table

and Chamfort and his like will hang
from the gallows!

No!

I never was a whore.

I am the Marquise of La Varenne.

You knew my husband.

He ate at the Duke of Chamfort's table.

They had a business venture
with the East India Company.

They were said to be friends.

The truth is,
François could not say no.

The Duke used him as a front
to buy bonds.

Chamfort came to visit
increasingly often.

First for business, and then

to court me.

I shunned him.

He threatened to ruin us
if I didn't bend.

I didn't believe him.

So he carried out his threat...

Within days, we had nothing left.

François wanted to tell all
at Versailles, but...

He never got that far.

One morning I found him
hanging from a tree

before my bedroom window.

Chamfort claimed it was suicide,
but in truth, he murdered him.

So...

I went to the castle...

with a dagger, to cut his throat.

But I couldn't do it.

To murder a man

even one so vile,
is harder than you think.

I watched him sleep all night long...

I hated myself for being so weak.

I found refuge
with the Sisters of Charity

where I heard of your dismissal.

François lauded your cuisine.

He said you were the pride of the Duke.

Chamfort was bound to recall you.

So I had this idea of poisoning.

You lied from the start.

He cannot go unpunished.

Be gone.

Hold on, Louise.

Let me help you.

Benjamin!

Mind the house!

My jug is empty,
I'm going for wine!

Giddy up!

Giddy up.

Jacob was right.
Not enough wine here!

Giddy up!

Papa!

I'll get some grease for his wound.

Talking politics ruins the appetite.

The King has called in the troops
to protect Versailles.

That's just rumour.

Be wary of rumours.

Food of spiteful tongues!

Cheers!

How to tell rumour from truth?

Experience, my friend!

Like in battle,
if you believe all you're told

you die on the front line.

The good soldier

is one who can tell
a good command

from a stupid order!

- More, Sir?
- With pleasure.

François, come sit with us!

- More, Sirs?
- Wouldn't say no.

There you go!

Cheese for the lieutenant!

Seconds over there!

Fill the pitchers!

Any bread left?

Fetch some bread in the kitchen!

Right away.

Glad to see you up.

What are they doing here?

They set up camp near the source.

They wanted bread
and I offered to feed them.

- Any more pork?
- Of course.

- Is it good?
- Wonderful, Madam.

First, for the officers

and then Benjamin suggested
half-portions for the soldiers.

Better than black bread.

Wine for the officers' table,
the pitchers are dry!

I'll go!

I made your recipes,
topped off with jams and jellied fruit.

Madam. If you please?

Coming!

I feel sweet things
are better served at the end.

They want bread at that table!

It was your son's idea!

Slicing the bread means less waste.

What's that?

Potato sticks.

I thought that cut length-wise

and fried in oil...

it'd make a change.

Not bad, but ugly...

It'll never catch on.

Just an idea.

Glad you like it.

I was hungry.

I cooked the vegetables separately
to keep their colour.

Prettier, no?

Eleven pounds, seven shillings
and threepence.

A potentially profitable commerce.

What do you mean by "profitable"?

Battalions don't pass every day.

The roads are dreadful.

Travellers are tired
of filthy relays and stabled inns

that only serve rotten patés
and viscous soups.

Customers want real meals...

Why did you return?

I never left.

You were in a sorry state
when we found you.

I'm better now.

I'd have given myself up.

I may not have hanged,
but you'd have sullied my name.

I'd never have cooked again.

It was she who nursed you.

For three days and three nights.

Forget all that...

What matters is that
you no longer need Chamfort.

We could do what we did today
every day.

You were right,
we must share this place.

But not with Chamfort,

with everyone!

Think of what we've accomplished
since we came.

Generous meals, well presented

make for happy customers

who not only like your food

but will gladly pay more
to be well treated!

Soon, people will come here
just for your cuisine.

They'll come for you, Manceron,
to the very source.

In Paris, a certain Beauvilliers
is serving the provincial deputies

all kinds of cooked dishes.

Without your talent!

You can play a historic role,
a better fed humanity

is one that thinks better,
that progresses.

You could price according to portion
as we did today

so as to welcome
all kinds of customers.

Noble, bourgeois or peasant.

A new space,
a big buffet open to all

each paying according to their appetite.

- God forbid!
- Leave God out of this.

If God were a food lover,
we'd all be sated and happy.

But the people are starving,
so either he doesn't exist

or he's a poor gourmet!

I don't like your buffet idea.

Eating isn't just filling one's belly.

I'm talking about giving the power
to the cook.

To choose his own dishes.

Forget Chamfort and his like.
You owe them nothing!

The world is changing.

So change with it.

Men are flying!

An eating room.

We'll make you
a sleeping space upstairs.

Here, we'll make a big eating room.

Food served on the plate.

Russian style!

Starter, main course, dessert.

Not a buffet,
but individual tables

where everyone eats
at their own pace

and savours the moment.

That way we can offer
a range of dishes.

We must invent a gourmet space,
a place to taste...

a place of living...

like a source!

Tomorrow, go to market
and buy all we need.

- Chairs too!
- As many as you want!

Go get some paper, let's draw it!

Thank you.

Vegetable pie

and poularde with morels!

No!

Don't write that.

Write...

Poularde Manceron style!

No cheese?

A Roquefort, no?

A platter! With a selection.

Roquefort, Cantal,
Chèvre, Saint Nectaire.

Before?

No, after the main course.

Before the sweet.

And for dessert?

Your jellied fruit!

And a welcome bouquet of flowers
on each table.

How do you write Manceron?
With a D?

I don't know.

Never saw it written.

Without pretension, then.

Powerful and efficient.

Like me?

Customers!

Customers!

Our first customers!

Five, I'll bet.
Two, nice and fat, big eaters!

Here Sir, some slices of bread.

Is the menu to your liking?

Let us taste!

You can change a dish.

- A single menu...
- Follow me...

All freshly prepared.
A little wine?

Like to sit here?

Delighted to hear it.

Finished, Sir?

Like some morels?

The morel brings a smile
to the poularde!

Why toil if you confiscate
all the profits?

I take but the tax!

For now I only demand what is due.

I could ask the reimbursement

of the impromptu,
as the Duke ate nothing.

To eat, he'd have to stop.

Stop quibbling, it doesn't befit you.

What keeps the world turning
is knowing one's place.

Otherwise, it'd be chaos.

Believe me

it is men like us
who ensure the order of things.

The day when men of my calibre...

join the pack

it'll be the end of an era.

Take advantage.

The Duke of Chamfort
is not always so generous.

In the meantime,

let those with nothing rage,
learn the comfort of silence

and be glad

that the Duke tolerates
your commerce.

You claim to make no profits

yet you hire servant girls?

- She's my apprentice.
- A female cook?

You're joking!

Not very talkative? Where from?

She worked for the Earl of Briançon.

Making jam.

Jam?

Doesn't look like
she could press much quince!

Why leave Briançon castle
for this hole?

I doubt she was prey to old Briançon,
he only likes cup-and-ball!

I know you have a sweet tooth...

Very tasty indeed.

I must admit
you are forging a fine reputation.

Your inn is the talk of the region.

Even at the castle!

The Duke himself asked of it.

He may well make a visit very soon.

And as you know,
he loves jellied fruit!

Jellied fruit

and servant girls!

Pierre,

I beg you to understand.

I tried to forget...

but I cannot.

One day he who destroyed my life
will come here

and I can't imagine facing him
without making him pay.

Staying would be to destroy
all you've built

and make you complicit
in a criminal act.

And that I cannot do.

I'm sure you'll succeed

and I thank you for all.

Adieu.

Louise.

Someone stole a horse.

I'll go get some eggs.

Excuse me?

I've asked three times!

Is this ready to go?

The customers are complaining.

- It's taking forever.
- Better off at home!

Yes, it's nearly ready!

Wine!

- The dessert, please!
- Yes, coming up.

Excuse me...

Leaving?

Enjoy your meal, sir.

Look, it's all dry.

I'm sorry, sir.
I'll bring you another.

Ledger

Your idea's costing us a fortune.

We'll soon be unable
to afford our ingredients.

We must attract
other kinds of customers.

But how?

I'll hand out menus at local markets,
outside churches.

As if that'll change anything!

If you didn't look so glum,
folks might return!

They come here to enjoy.

But there's no longer joy
in what you do.

Chicken!

- Please, can I have some?
- Me, me!

Easy does it!
You'll all get some.

He's sleeping!

I doubt it.

It's past midnight!

Yes, when he usually goes
to the kitchen for a snack.

Stop, Manceron!

Please excuse me, my Lord.

What manners!

He's stubborn as a mule,
he wouldn't listen!

My Lord, I have to speak to you.

Should I call the guard?

My Lord...

Leave us!

Well, Manceron...

You're nicely muddied!

I hear you've become an inn-keeper?

More than that.

I serve cooked dishes.

Appetisers, fish, meats, side-dishes.

And who eats them?

Whomever wishes to.

That's absurd.

Wanting to is not enough,
one must know how to eat.

It's an art!

True cuisine is not
for ordinary mortals.

Only the gastronome
can appreciate it

a sense bestowed on the very few.

I was fortunate
to serve one such person.

Glad to hear it,
but in the meantime here I sit.

Me, myself and I.

Back to the fire and belly to the table.
But before what?

This is what I'm reduced to.

I ingurgitate...

but without enjoyment.

Good cooks are rare, Manceron.

Your successor was a sauce spoiler.

The next could barely
make a mayonnaise.

Your mayonnaise, Manceron...

How little things make for
such sweet memories!

Your stubbornness cost us both dearly.

Why didn't you apologise?

You only had to apologise.

I humbly apologise.

Look at that, it's hopeless.

No balance, no invention, no harmony.

Nothing!

May I?

It'll just take a minute.

So you came to torture me?

No, my Lord.

To serve you

and invite you to dine at my inn.

In truth, business is not so good.

What did I tell you?

You can't ask a toad to fly!

Indeed.

I need the opinion of a true gourmet.

How do I know
what my recipes are worth

without the approval
of the only opinion I trust?

Why would I do that?

To taste my Chamfort duck.

A duck named after me?

It must be sublime!

My Lord...

I beg of you,

let me give back a little
of what you've given me.

So be it.

I shall come.

Hyacinthe shall give you a new purse
for a cold buffet for two.

Myself and the Countess of Saint Genet.

Thank you...

But I demand that
you close your tavern immediately.

Good food is not for the rabble.
One must deserve it.

If your offering meets my expectations

I shall take you back
and to Paris.

The Duke de Chamfort can be magnanimous.

There is someone to see you.

You have fifteen minutes.

You must return.

As my apprentice, you must obey.

Without you, I've lost all desire.

I need you.

Chamfort will dine at our inn
in two days.

We'll do what you wish.

"Working" for the good of the people

they've nothing better to do

than occupy the Jeu de Paume
to argue and take oaths.

A bunch of worthless talkers.

Lazy, good-for-nothings!

So what does the King say?

According to Bishop de la Motte,

upon hearing that this national assembly

refused to disperse

he shrugged and answered:

"Oh bugger it, let them stay!".

Long live the King!

My goodness, an inn!

More than that, my friend!

Or so he says.

Well it seems

your Manceron learnt his lesson!

His exile must have been most painful.

I see why he came begging
your forgiveness.

I don't know which of us both
was punished most.

I must admit, I missed him.

You did right to take him down
a peg or two.

Good day.

Good day.

I've always loved the countryside.

Manceron, where were you?

Forgive me, my Lord...

Madam...

Please, come inside.

I'm so hungry!

You heard, Manceron
we're hungry!

Where are my staff?

My father sent them away.

We hired our own.

Why all these chairs, Manceron?
We are just two!

Before closing, I wanted to show you
my inn as I imagined it.

A place

where everyone could come and eat
according to their desires and means.

But I already told you

it's a wrongheaded idea!

The people cannot appreciate
the finer things.

This emptiness says it all!

Hurry up with the first round
or I'll go eat elsewhere!

No rounds, my Lord.

The dishes will be served one by one.

Appetiser, starter,
main-dish, cheese, dessert.

Like a farandole.

A farandole?

I adore farandoles!

So be it.
Bring on the farandole!

But quickly!

These little tables make it so cosy!

What strange crockery!

One basket per table!

A bread basket,
a carafe and a bouquet.

This table needs a bouquet.

Such girls cannot serve a duke!

Where is your regard for custom?
For etiquette?

Here Sir, all customers are dukes

and every customer is king.

My Lord...

Madam asked for a potato recipe.

Yes! I love potato!

The Queen wears its flower
in her buttonhole.

What do you call this?

The Delicious.

My friend, you have to taste this!

Divine!

My Lord! People!

People!

People!

What is he on about?

I was given this at the market
this morning.

Come on in, there's room inside.
Just choose your table.

What is this, who are these people?

Come on in!

There are even tablecloths!

Yes! Take a seat.

Look, a bill of fare!

What is this carnival, Manceron?

How many are they?

Send these people away!

It's outrageous!
I'll not eat in front of strangers!

Tell them to be quiet!

Good day.

Madam, what are you doing here?!

Cooking.

It was Louise who prepared your meal.

Who is this?

I mean, you could at least introduce...

Louise de La Varenne.

Yes, you deserve that I poison you.

Can someone tell me what's going on?

I demand to understand!

"Come taste a menu free of charge
at noon on the dot"

"in the presence
of the Duke of Chamfort."

It'll be a full house!

Yes, it's him...

I thought he was taller.

You'll pay for this!

I'll send in the guard.

They'll teach you to stay in your place!

They'll close your filthy dive!

Do you hear me, Manceron?!

I'll have you hanged!

Both of you!

I'll have you both hanged!

You hear! Both of you!

- Both of you!
- Not so loud!

Indeed,

let's go and see the King.

I'm sure he'd love to hear
what I know about you.

Your trafficking, your secret shares
in the East India Company

and the murder
of François de La Varenne,

one of his most loyal subjects.

You no longer scare me.

Apologise.

Apologise.

Down with privilege!

Out of my way!

Sorry.

- Louis!
- Let's go!

Louis, wait for me!

Hurry up!

Louis!

Goodbye, my Lord.

Come back whenever you like!

Is this table free?

May we sit?

Yes, of course.

I beg you...

Take a seat.

Looks like it'll be a fine day.

There you go.

Please...

May I congratulate Madam on her outfit?

Won't be a minute.

Please!

Could you...

A Delicious?

Please, take a seat.

I'll be right back with the menu.

Please, have a seat.

It's nice here.

Have a look at the menu,
I'll be right back.

Welcome.

It's coming right up.

One of Manceron's creations.

You'll love it,
it's called a "Delicious".

Serve that table!

A FEW DAYS LATER, THE BASTILLE FELL

DELICIOUS