All language subtitles for Alice.in.Paris.S01E05.Au.Revoir.For.Now.1080p.Peacock.WEB-DL.AAC.2.0.H.264-Lee@CHDWEB_track3_[eng]

- That day I read
in the magazine,

that to be a true Parisian,

you had to develop
your artistic talents.

I tried to be fashionable,
but I was trying too hard.

I tried to be a mime.

But it was outdated.

So that day I had a new idea
to develop my artistic side.

I tried drawing.

Let's go!

To d'Orsay Museum, it's
an old train station,

turned into a museum.

Nothing better than the
master's painting to learn,

but, not this one.

This one is a bit sad,

too much buckets.

I'm sick of techniques.

To green, to gray to vague.

Nope, nope, nope.

No.

No.

Ah, this is inspiring.

The joint of meat Claude Monet.

I really liked it

but the museum was closing.

I drew inspiration
from someone else,

Hugo Desnoyer a butcher
artist, he took my order.

I wanted a prime rib to draw,

mm to eat?

No, to draw.

He said, let's go.

Hugo learned from the
French cut school.

He cuts the sharpest meats
without tears without force.

And this perfect
cut gives the meat

unique flavor and texture.

This is called the ice cut.

It was my turn to be an artist.

This cut gives the meat
colors of precious materials,

Ruby and Garnet, purple
and Pearl, ivory and guilt.

Hugo you know you told me

Maybe you should
try taking pictures?

Mmm good idea.

Ahh.

Like every year I was
on vacation in the Alps,

in the area of land in
front of Mont Blanc,

the highest mountain in Europe.

Wow.

And this year I'll
beat all my records.

I beat my record of 30 flan.

I ate five kilos, yumm.

I beat my record of Instagram
pictures more than 400.

And today I was going to
beat my record in the snow,

my best time was five minutes.

But this time I was
going to get down in two.

Let's go.

The snow was good,
my ski turned easily

and I was picking up speed.

It was time for the first shows.

Whoo hoo.

I was 15 seconds ahead.

Perfect.

And now the forest.

I was 20 seconds ahead,
but it wasn't enough.

The shortcut through the forest.

Yeah.

Whoo hoo.

Oh ah.

Whoa.

I was not ready to jump.

It wasn't a good shortcut.

I went back on the track
and I was 40 seconds behind.

So I went for a shows.

Whoo hoo.

Uh.

Whoa.

whoa, whoa whoa, whoa, whoa.

Oof.

I'm all right.

Huh, what is that place?

Would it be the
Chateau Liquor factory?

As I missed my record, I
had time for a little visit.

I found the longest liquor
cellar in the world.

Here, monks aged Chateaus.

It's a liquor was more
than 130 ingredients

and the recipe has been
secret for four centuries,

but I wanted to know.

I saw a monk,

please, Mr. Monk.

But before I could speak
to him, he was gone.

Nevermind, I was going to
solve the mystery alone.

It was too smooth to
distinguish the ingredients,

but it tasted like
fennel, artichoke,

spices, bolds dram, like
a forest on the growth

and altitude plants,

it tasted like mountains in
springtime and it warmed me up.

Whoo hoo, let's go again.

Today, I'm at Liberty Doughnut.

Here, the gourmet
doughnuts are homemade

every morning from
fresh products.

And of course the
recipes, a la franchise,

they're not fried,
they're baked.

They're a perfect treat to
welcome my American friend

who is on his way to Paris.

Gare de Lyon.

Oh no, his train is late.

I have to wait for him.

La Coulee Plante

This park is an old train track,

above the streets
you feel protected

from all the
attacks of the city.

Well almost all.

Mmm this lemon tree
and it's flowers

reminds me of that
lemon taste doughnut.

But no, I can't eat it.

So this big arch
are kind of funny.

They remind me of...

No, I can't touch them.

Red, yellow, green.

I have the same color is in
my box, no, I must resist.

Ah, Paris is really against me.

Finally, here he is.

Are you kidding?

But you didn't tell me
you were bringing friends.

I should have eat them all.

I should have listened to Paris.

Today, Paris is slow
because it's hot,

really hot, really, really hot.

Generally my solution
is aggressive, lemonade.

I mean several glasses,

but today I already had too many

and I have to find
something else to cool down.

I wanted to put my feet in the
Sainte-Genevieves Fountaine

but it was out of water.

I went to Stravinsky Fontaine
to cool my legs down.

But it was strictly forbidden.

It gave me an idea.

I tried the outdoor swimming
pool, at Butte-aux-Cailles

but I realized the water
comes from the hot source

below Paris at 28 degrees.

I feel like your
lobster in acooking pan.

Let's try something
very different.

The soup bar, it sounds weird

but soup is today's
only solution,

cold soup of course.

The chef makes six
different soup each day

from the freshest vegetables.

That carrot cumin
gazpacho is delicious.

Ah, I breathe again.

It brings pleasure back
in this hot summer day

mm-hm, that day I
was tidying my stuff.

I found my old recipe book
from when I was little.

With my absolute taste
I used to imagine

the taste of things even
the taste of happiness.

I had written the
recipe in 62 steps.

It was serious, for example.

Since I moved in Paris, I
had almost done everything.

There were only
three steps left.

So today I thought I
would finish my recipe

and taste happiness.

Step 58, enjoy an onion soup.

At 8 A.M. it's
different from coffee.

And then I remember why
I didn't do this before.

I don't really like onions.

Step 45, read time
on the Concord Plaza.

Few people know this, but
this place is a huge sundial.

I found the numbers
but to tell the time

I had to get higher,
it was 10 o'clock.

I remembered why I
didn't do this before,

because I have vertigo.

Step 18, taste all
the different macaroon

that exists in Paris.

I had some, and then I remember
why I didn't do this before,

because there are 1200, after
20, I was completely full.

So, I called my friends.

I had a surprise for
them a macaroon dinner.

- Wow!

- We had a good time.

Each had, his little
technique to eat them.

We laughed a lot,

And as they were fighting
over who had the most,

I realized something.

I realized that my
recipe for happiness,

tasted even better when shared.

That day, I was in
Annancy, in Old Savoy.

With all it's canals, it's
called the Venice of the Alps,

but I was not there
for sightseeing.

I was there for work.

I had an appointment
with a chocolate maker.

I had to discover the
secret of his competitor,

Bonnat Chocolate,
industrial espionage?

I said, no.

He said it was the best
chocolate in the world.

In the world?

It was worth it so
I tried a piece.

I tasted, I chewed, I crunched,

but I didn't find any
secret ingredient.

So to understand how Bonnat
made this chocolate so good,

I left to spy on him.

I went to the Bonnat
Chocolate Factory.

And so I was, incognito.

I spotted the chocolate maker

and I tracked him down.

I pretended I was the
cocoa delivery girl.

I saw how he roasted beans
to reveal their aroma,

on cooling, they take on
spicy, fruity or woody tastes.

Wow!

But I got too close.

I told him I was
a delivery girl,

but he asked me for help.

Then I was the cleaning lady.

I saw the recipe
of the chocolate.

He mixed in the grinder
cocoa with butter and sugar

and nothing else.

Hmm, interesting.

But I was too close again.

And he asked me for help.

Www, sweet smell of chocolate.

Then, I was working
on a counter chain.

I saw him put the
finishing touches

and this time I was exposed.

He told me, "I don't understand,

you're the cleaning lady?

You deliver cocoa?

Or you're an aid?

I think you're spying on me."

No, I'm just a big
fan of your work.

"You wanted to visit the
chocolate factory then."

That's it.

"Well, let's go."

He told me he rediscovered
cocoa plantations in Peru,

that his grandfather
created chocolate they loved

and some of their
candy over 100 years.

When I left, I understood
the secret of his chocolate.

It was just, his
passion for chocolate.

Montmartre, in this
neighborhood, there is no cars,

only nice shops,
then walking streets.

It's a village,

like the one I'm going
to for my summer break.

I'm taking a
carpool in one hour.

But before I have to say goodbye
to Paris and to my friends.

They're at Boules

Hi guys,

this bar takes the game of
Petanque very seriously.

Let's roll the boules.

Ah.

Yes.

To freshen up a Blastoice,

a dose of Anice, a block
of ice and fresh water.

Uh, a real summer drink.

Oh, no, only five minutes
left to catch my carpool

and say goodbye to Paris.

Let's go.

Bye-bye secret passages,

bye-bye Le Baron six streets,

bye-bye all my
favorite spots to eat,

bye-bye cars who always
want to run me over.

Here is my carpool driver.

I'm ready for my summer break.

Hi guys, I'm Alice.

Oops, this is not the right car.

I guess I'd have to spend
one more day in Paris.

- What happened at the festival?

They're talking about
you in a bad way.

The microphone at the
announcer had been stolen

by an angry young woman
who for about three hours

saw fit to spread her culture.

We need to act, quickly.

We have to do something great.

A feat, something that
will restore your image.

I have a good idea.

You'll go from thief
to hero, it's perfect.

- Yeah, you're right.

It's time to show my real face.