THE TASTE OF THINGS — Alison Roman savors the opposite of a chef movie

Ex-NYTimes columnist and bestselling cookbook writer Alison Roman (SOMETHING FROM NOTHING) talks with Rico about the tropes of fictional film chefs, and how the dreamy Cannes-winner THE TASTE OF THINGS quietly roasts them over a spit.

Just in time for holiday eat-a-thons, the award-winning MUBI Podcast is back and celebrating its tenth season with a four-course serving of stories about food on film. Titled "A Feast For The Eyes," the season digs into the ways filmmakers use food to provoke hunger, thought, nausea, political action...and sometimes all the above.

Joining host Rico Gagliano is a sampler platter of luminaries from the film and culinary world, including directors Brad Bird (RATATOUILLE), Mira Nair (MONSOON WEDDING), and David Gelb (JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI), former New York Times food writer Alison Roman, and more. Gluttons for great cinema stories can start chowing down on episodes weekly, starting Thanksgiving Day.

Let's Eat! Food and Film collection is now streaming on MUBI globally.

PHANTOM THREAD is now streaming on MUBI in the UK, Ireland, Germany, Italy, France, Netherlands, Latin America, India and Turkey. 

THE TASTE OF THINGS is now streaming on MUBI in Australia

To stream some of the films we've covered on the podcast, check out the collection Featured on the MUBI Podcast. Availability of films varies depending on your country.

MUBI is a global streaming service, production company and film distributor dedicated to elevating great cinema. MUBI makes, acquires, curates, and champions extraordinary films, connecting them to audiences all over the world. A place to discover ambitious new films and singular voices, from iconic directors to emerging auteurs. Each carefully chosen by MUBI’s curators.

Transcript

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Heads up, this episode contains a little bad language, a lot of bad-boy behavior, and spoilers. Alright, so my definition of a guilty pleasure is a movie so entertaining you can't stop watching, even if you think what it's trying to say is totally ridiculous. And for me, the latest addition to the canon is the 2015 movie, <i>Burnt</i>. It's about a tough, driven dude named Adam Jones, played by Bradley Cooper. Under the opening credits, he tells us, in voiceover, that he used to be a star chef in Paris, but he's an addict. So...<i>Then I destroyed it all. My devils chased me out of Paris,</i><i>and I washed up in New Orleans.</i> New Orleans, where he's now spent three years sobering up and serving a self-imposed"sentence of hard labor". He's vowed to shuck a million oysters at a dive restaurant.<i>And today's the last day of my penance.</i> We watch as Cooper shucks his millionth oyster, eats it, then grabs his leather jacket and quits in the middle of his shift.<i>Where the hell are you going? Hey!</i> So Chef Adam may now be sober, but clearly he's still a total asshole. In fact, when he immediately jets to London and starts recruiting cooks to help him open a new high-end restaurant, Adam's signature move is to be a dick to them right off the bat. And his first advice to his new colleagues is they should kind of be dicks right back at him.<i>Trying to make a point.</i><i>Resume is great. This lamb's fucking fantastic.</i><i>But you lack arrogance.</i><i>And to be in my kitchen, you have to defend yourself.</i> And yet he's irresistible. Everyone ends up working for him and they can't help wanting to sleep with him. Everyone. All genders. All sexual orientations.<i>You know, when I lie awake at night and list my regrets.</i><i>You're one of them.</i><i>I say to myself,</i><i>"Simone, you're a lesbian. Why did you sleep with Adam Jones?"</i> So listen, the pace is fast, the dialogue snaps, really good performances, I will watch <i>Burnt</i> any time. While also thinking, I'm pretty sure it's not great to make a guy this toxic seem this cool. But in tons of movies and on cooking shows, that's what you get. A celebration of the chef as a broken genius, tough love, drill sergeant. Where did this come from? And what's it look like when a food movie celebrates the opposite? I'm Rico Gagliano, welcome back to the MUBI Podcast. MUBI's the global film company that champions great cinema. On this show, we tell you the stories behind great cinema. We're in the middle of Season 10. We're calling it A Feast for the Eyes. Just in time for your holiday dinners we're digging into how and why so many filmmakers obsess over food in their films or in this case, over the people who make it. I think restaurant kitchens really attract a certain type of person and allows for you to be a certain way in a professional setting that no other job would allow. That is food writer Alison Roman. She was a columnist for <i>The New York Times</i> and now presides over a food culture empire that includes a grocery store and a new best-selling cookbook called <i>Something From Nothing.</i> But most germane to our needs today, she spent her early 20s cooking in high-end kitchens. So I talked to her about great movie chefs and why her favorite does not give <i>Burnt</i> vibes. Most food content now that we see is fast paced, super cut, loud chopping sounds... It's like very chaotic. And this movie was like taking a Xanax in the best way. We savor the gentle simmer of the 2023 Cannes winner <i>The Taste of Things</i> but first I asked Alison to give me her first sense memory of her restaurant days. It was honestly totally exhilarating. It was like, I don't know, I don't know how else to describe it. It was like, addictive. It was sort of like a real adrenaline high. I knew that I wanted to do it. I knew that I wanted to be there. I was like, oh, this is my career, this is my path. It was scary and very unknown. I had never done it before or anything like it before, but it was something I was very, very interested in. What was so addictive about it?'Cause I hear this a lot. One thing I hear a lot, for instance, is that you go into, it's called a flow state where you're almost working on automatic and it can be exhilarating.- But you tell me.- Yeah. I also just think it was a room full of people that were really into what they were doing and there was a mission and they were on the mission. And it's not unlike what I imagine a Broadway performance to be,

where there's just like: 4:42

You gotta get through the night and then do it all again the next night.- The show must go on.- Yeah, yeah. It's like short bursts of really intense energy and physical exertion and focus and effort, and then it's all over. It's like a very interesting, sort of, wave to ride. Why did you leave? It sounds like it was your calling. It was, but anyone who's worked in a restaurant will tell you it's just like the physical demand is high. The pay is extremely low. The hours are very long. And I knew I didn't want to own my own restaurant, I knew I didn't wanna work for somebody else at their restaurant. So that left me with the option to leave. I think it was great for a time, you know, I was 20, I was 19, and I left restaurants when I was 25, maybe even later 26. It was quite a run. And I think it's a young person's game for sure. I think it's very difficult. I couldn't imagine doing it now, at this age.- Or economically, it's even harder.- Yeah. Let's talk about the standard portrayal of chefs on screen, which kind of jibes in a lot of ways with what you've just been talking about. But if I were to ask you to paint the typical portrait, what would it be? What do you think the stereotypical portrait of a chef might be? Man. A man and mean, intelligent, a creative genius, you know, sort of like a complex character. I think it's very easy to just default to <i>The Bear</i> because that's like a hugely successful show that happens to involve a chef. But I have to admit, watching it for the first time, I was like, well, this guy does remind me of a lot of people I worked with. Really? 'Cause the thing that's interesting about <i>The Bear</i> is that it's true, it's all those things. It's an intense genius who's like, you know, kind of brooding. But in a way, <i>The Bear</i> is about trying to get past that, I feel like. From the very beginning, the head chef, Carmy specifically doesn't want to create that kind of toxic kitchen environment, but it just keeps happening.<i>Pars all day.</i><i>- Syd, salads, count.- Twenty-five all day, Chef.</i><i>Twenty-five. Thank you.</i><i>- Grill pars. Tina, chicken.- Thirty-two all day, Chef.</i><i>Thirty-two. Thank you.</i><i>- Ebra, beef all day?- 100, Chef.</i><i>100. Thank you.</i><i>- Richie. Go fuck yourself.- Sixty-nine all day, Chef.</i><i>And Marcus, cakes all day?</i><i>Uh... Give me a sec.</i><i>- No. Faster. How many?- Got a little behind. I'm gonna catch up.</i><i>Marcus, if you're still fucking with those donuts right now,</i><i>I'm gonna fuck your day up. You hear me?</i> I think restaurant kitchens really attract a certain type of person that is, attracted to that lifestyle. And it's hard and unconventional and allows for you to be a certain way in a professional setting that no other job would allow. It's true. The way I would put it, it's like there are so many films, it's like, an intense genius and their biggest fault is demanding a level of excellence that only he is willing to sacrifice everything to have. To the detriment of his health and his money and his sanity and his relationships. And I feel like usually these movies, the journey of the chef is to correct that fault. But also we're supposed to kind of get off on it in a weird way. That's not the case in <i>The Bear,</i> but a lot of times we're meant to get, I feel like, a rush from this total power trip that's going on. And it's like applauded, right? I think it's sort of encouraged. Because we expect it. Again, I think it's very specific to men. And I've always found it very interesting that, especially in pop culture, or even, I think perhaps historically, that the people representing a professional kitchen in their creativity and work ethic and genius and brilliance and impact on culture are always men, even if they're difficult. And the domestic role of like a caretaker of a woman is just that. It's like she's in the house and she takes care of the family and she cooks for the family, but it's not considered to be brilliant. My favorite example is <i>Burnt</i>. Supposedly, the movie is about Bradley Cooper's character learning to be a better guy, but through the whole thing, he's just super abusive and everyone falls in love with him anyway because he's a genius. Exactly. But there is the movie <i>No Reservations</i> where the obsessive chef is a woman. I never saw it. I think as a person who is in the industry, it was too close to home- and I kind of stayed away from it a bit.- How so? It was just not something that was interesting to me, because I also never thought that it was going to do it justice. It was like, I don't wanna watch the romanticized Hollywood version of my life. The experience of a woman in that environment? Yeah, or anyone in that environment, even watching a man in that environment, how they were depicting it would always fall short of what it actually was. And that's why I think I was pleasantly surprised when I saw <i>The Bear</i>. I was like, oh, that's pretty on point, actually, for a lot of it. What does <i>The Bear</i> get right that others don't? I think tapping into the complexity of the individual. A chef can be a very complex character. And I think in that particular show, Carmy is especially sort of unlikable. But you're still rooting for him because you understand there's a lot of pain. Yeah, he's got a soul. There's a lot of intensity that he's battling and you feel for him, there's empathy. For the most part, people that I know in kitchens that have dedicated their life to that sort of work all had sort of like a, I don't want to say a darkness as a pejorative, but it was sort of like a heaviness. Here's the question, though, that I have. There's a chicken and egg question here. Does the nature of the job attract that kind of person, or did the nature of the job attract some of that person? And then those people made movies and TV shows about it, and then people who would be into that kind of lifestyle were brought on. And I'm thinking specifically of like, Gordon Ramsay and Anthony Bourdain made it like kitchens are these macho places where you're gonna get put through an army boot camp and come out on the other side a stronger, tougher, cooler, tattooed dude. I think that that, of course, couldn't help. But I think with Bourdain, he was certainly not trying to become the poster child for that. But his sheer charisma and like it poured out of him and he became this thing just by being himself. And I think very few people come along in our lifetime like that. But yeah, I think it's very different now. I think that fame is a real driving force in that, whereas before it was sort of the opposite. Very few people that worked in kitchens that became chefs ever achieved notoriety, fame or wealth. And so it was, I don't know, I don't want to say like a purity to the profession, but it felt like it wasn't as lucrative as it has the potential to be now, depending on how you play it.- You weren't gonna be a rock star.- Correct. And you can go into it feeling like you're gonna maybe craft an image through your food and on media. And to be fair, the Food Network, the rise of the Food Network really changed that, too. There were-- As TV played a role in that, I think it did become more lifestyle. It did become more like, oh, maybe I could-- Maybe that is another avenue, versus like, I want to grind for 13 hours a day, five days a week in a basement, you know. Cooking food for strangers. Yeah, literally with, like, fire under my face. Yeah. Before we get to your pick of a movie, is there kind of-- In the same way that my understanding is that mafioso, all of them really love the <i>Godfather</i> movies. Is there generally a food professionals' favorite food movie, the one that you would hear referenced all the time? I don't know. I think when I was getting a start in the kitchens that I worked at,<i>Big Night</i> was popular. People liked <i>Big Night,</i> which is...- Is that a Tucci?- Yep.- He directed it and wrote it.- He did?- And acted it.- Directed it and wrote it?- Yep.- Stop.- Yeah.- Wow. I am absolutely blown away by this information.- I'm gonna triple check this.- Oh my God. That's right, with Campbell Scott. He co-directed it with Campbell Scott. This is huge news for the Tucci heads listening. That one. Yeah, that one was popular.- I recall <i>Tampopo</i> also very popular.- Japanese film. There's a famous omelet scene in there that people love to talk about and reference. Which scene is that? I don't remember. There's a scene. It's a rice omelet. It's basically one of those Japanese rice omelets where you-- You make the omelet, and it's very, very wet inside. And you flip it over on top of this mound of rice, and then you slice it down the middle and it kind of spills out over the rice.- It's like a textural sort of experience.- Yeah. I feel also, by the way, in the movie we're about to talk about the very first thing we see cooked, I think, is an egg dish. And <i>Big Night</i> famously ends with Stanley Tucci's character, cooking his brother an omelet. Eggs are a miracle. Don't forget it. I don't know if I've thought about it, but why? Why eggs? Why is that? Well, they come out of a chicken's body as a whole, perfect thing and then you crack it open and eat it. It's pretty wild if you think about it. Sure, it's almost Adam and Eve, too. It's like this is the origin, the egg. And it can be so many things. It can be boiled and scrambled and fried and jammy and mixed into things. It's used for baking, and to make a mayonnaise, it's used to make a dressing and it's used-- It's like really a miracle. What can't it do? It's water and it's protein in one. It can be runny and fluffy. Yeah. It's fascinating. What do you-- Is there something about <i>Big Night</i>? Why did food people gravitate to those two movies? I think because it wasn't trying to depict chefs or restaurants in this, like, glorified romantic way, just sort of like, is this working-class energy and like the hecticness and the vibe and the food is real and... It is kind of working-class, the chefs in those movies are underdogs. They're not Michelin star big shots.<i>Big Night</i> is about how these immigrant Italian brothers are serving this incredible food, but no one in 1950s America even knows what it is.<i>- Monsieur, is this what I ordered?- Yes, that is the risotto.</i><i>Is a special recipe that my brother and I bring from Italy.</i><i>It's delicious, I promise.</i><i>It took so long, I thought you went all the way back to Italy to get it.</i><i>Yes, I know.</i> And much like <i>The Bear,</i> even if you're not into food, you can appreciate the film, so that helps as well. I remember when that movie came out, by the way, it was opening night, I think, and there was so much anticipation for it that I remember cooking a big pasta meal for my friends'cause I was like, if we watch this, we're gonna be hungry, so let's not be hungry when we go to that movie. I don't know if you were even, you know, watching movies at that era. I'm older than you. I was not, unfortunately, but I have some catching up to do. Alright, let's move on to the movie that you wanted to talk about,<i>The Taste of Things.</i> Let's just set it up. It's about a chef in late 1800s France named Eugénie, played by Juliette Binoche and she works in the country estate of a guy who is some kind of famous gourmet. It's a little unclear to me who the man is. He's a professional or was a professional. Yeah, maybe he could be a chef himself or a food writer.- And Eugénie lives in his estate.- Yeah, she's the cook of the household. So when he has these people over, obviously a group of men to discuss the world, food, cooking, she is the one who cooks for them. And so it's known as this house where all the food is gonna be remarkable. And they make the menus together and sort of through this, you see that there's also like a romantic connection here. Yeah. They've been-- I guess "dating" isn't the right term. They've been a couple for apparently a very long time, like decades potentially.- But never married.- Never married. In fact, early on he proposes to her.<i>Je vous le demande encore, Eugénie. Marions-nous.</i> And she's basically like,"Why would we do that?"<i>Combien de fois encore allez-vous me poser cette question?</i> But when you see them cook for each other and with each other, you can tell there's this connection that is so intense and respectful that marriage is almost beside the point. I have a confession to make as well about this movie.- Which is?- I watched it without the sound. There's subtitles, but I watched without the sound for the first half, because I was on an airplane and my child was sleeping on me and I couldn't access the headphones, but I was so rapt and I understood everything. I understood exactly what was happening. The acting is so superlative. And because it's in French, I could read all the subtitles. It was phenomenal. Then I turned the sound on and the sound was great as well but... I just had to come clean. We'll get to the sound. But what about it kept you going? It's visually... Even on a small airplane screen it's visually so beautiful. I think very early on it was very clear that this was a movie made by people who really cared about food and really honored what it means to cook and the fact that there's no real plot, like many great films, there doesn't have to be. It drew me in immediately, because I think the second that you try to make a food film have too much plot, it loses me because I'm like, food inherently is just beautiful on its own. You don't need to do too much to it to make it interesting. And this movie really gets that. It understands that. It understands also the connectivity between heart and soul and food and cooking and care and intimacy. I could tell all of that without the sound. It's actually, as you're saying this, I'm thinking back to those other two movies, <i>Tampopo</i> and <i>Big Night.</i> They also have either extremely simple plots or very fragmented plots.<i>Tampopo</i> is actually a bunch of little vignettes, and <i>Big Night</i> has got a very simple plot. It's really more about the sensory nature of things.

Wow, you may have really hit on something: 17:44

The way to make a great food movie is like-- Let it do its thing. Let it speak for itself. You know, as a person who's tried to make a TV show about food for at least seven years now, I'm always fighting for letting the cooking and the food be the thing. And everyone's always like,"What's the hook and what's the thing?" And, "What are we doing?" And like, "Who's the guest?" And I'm like, it doesn't need all the hats on the hat. Because cooking and food and the act of doing it in a-- Professionally and when you're doing something well that is joyful and that is compelling. Those other two films do that well. The rice omelet in <i>Tampopo</i> is an expertly made, beautiful omelet. It is like a masterclass. There doesn't need to be a why or a how... You're seeing the tenderness in that moment. You're seeing the level of care. There's like mischief. There's a sneakiness to it. It's late at night, we're doing something maybe we shouldn't be doing. There's, you know, there's all these layers. Yeah, in a way, I was gonna ask why food and cinema are so kind of inextricably tied together. I mean, we're not the first people on Earth to think about doing a season or a series about film and food. And the reason may be because of what you're talking about. There's something inherent in the act of making food that is cinematic. I think it is, I really do. It's almost like watching a magic trick, I guess. You don't necessarily need a plot to appreciate a magic trick. It's like a miracle happening in front of your eyes. That's right. But that's not the only trick<i>The Taste of Things</i> pulls off. Like the revolutionary sexual politics it gets across almost without saying a word. That's coming up in just a minute. Stay with us. Alright, everybody. MUBI is the global film company that champions great cinema, bringing it to you wherever you are in as many ways as we possibly can. We stream movies, we produce them, we release them in theaters, movies from any country, from legendary auteurs or brilliant first timers, we've always got something new for you to discover. And if you are digging this episode, I've got something I bet you're gonna want to discover right now on MUBI. We've got a whole tasting menu of food-centric movies curated just for you. We're calling the collection Let's Eat, and it runs the gamut from movies where food is a declaration of love, to movies where it is a potential murder weapon. A great example of the latter category would be Paul Thomas Anderson's<i>Phantom Thread,</i> maybe his most beautiful movie about the codependent relationship between a couture superstar and the waitress he takes as a muse in 1950s England. This is my wife and I's favorite PTA movie. It might be because we saw it on our honeymoon, although I don't know if I'd recommend that to every couple. And also in a few countries, we've also got <i>The Taste of Things,</i> the movie you're about to hear me and Allison talk a lot more about, so I won't get too deep into it here. Suffice to say, Tran Anh Hung won the Best Director prize for it at Cannes, and it is romantic and sensual and sad, and it might be the perfect date movie, as long as you're pretty sure you want to be with your date for the rest of your life. Again, that collection is called Let's Eat. I should say, the movies in there will be a little different depending on what country you're in, but I guarantee you will find them tasty and you can start watching by subscribing to MUBI at mubi.com There are links and all the info you need in the show notes of this episode. Speaking of which, let's get back to the episode. So <i>The Taste of Things</i> is a quiet movie that still manages to be full of epic cinematic flexes like take the opening sequence, which starts, appropriately enough, with Chef Eugenie picking veggies for the day's meal, then moves into the estate's big rustic kitchen as she, her lover and a couple of assistants start to cook and cook and cook. I was watching it online, so I was able to actually, like, just look at the timer. The opening scene is basically 17 straight minutes of cooking, plus a little vegetable picking and then 15 more minutes of dining. This is a two hour movie,- the first quarter of the movie is...- Incredible.- ...one meal with not that much dialogue.- It's so good. Do you remember what you were thinking during that opening? There's a moment when I was like, is there gonna-- Are we going to figure out what's going on here? No, I didn't care. I was like, "Oh, wow, this is the best thing I've ever seen." It was like, I'm just watching really, really good-- I'm watching people cook in a beautiful kitchen and they're cooking things that I wouldn't necessarily cook. It's fancier, it's Frencher, it's fussier, it's a hundred years ago. And I was supremely entertained. The fact that there was no dialogue, I was like, this is absolutely incredible. Even when it cuts to the dining room and it's like these gentlemen who are really into food and are eating, they're so about the food, they don't even speak for a lot of it. And you understand exactly what's happening. The synopsis that I just gave, which was probably poorly said, is in the first 15, 20 minutes of the movie and then, of course, some other things unfold and drive some conversations forward, but to do that and open your movie that way is so bold. And also to just be like, this is enough. This movie, by the way, did very well at Cannes. It was very well received at Cannes. I was like, this movie is made to kill at Cannes. It's a French movie... Yeah, and made to get like, earn like $5 at the box office. But it's just it's like a French movie about French food that is pure cinema. By the way, technically it's a marvel. At a certain point, it became pretty clear to me the actors are really cooking these dishes and there are just edits to keep the pace moving. They probably cooked it from beginning to end and there's just a roving camera going around shooting them. There's almost no way it was faked. Yeah, that's how I shoot all my cooking videos. I just cook it and someone films me. But you can't fake it. You can't do it any other way. And there are just small things that I noticed that probably not many people would. The way that a person wipes their hand on an apron and the way somebody tastes food and puts the spoon back in a certain way, or seasons food or stirs a pot or opens an oven. There's just certain rhythmic motions that were done in this movie that were so real and professional. And I don't mean professional, like in a Michelin starred kitchen, I just mean like a professional cook. Could be at home, could be in a restaurant. The things that you can't fake. What I would definitely say, because so many movies, as you said before, are about professional chefs cooking under pressure, which it really, that's what a kitchen is, it's incredible pressure. And even <i>The Bear,</i> which is about chefs who want to break this abusive cycle, it's totally about high pressure. That's one of the defining things of that show. This specifically is a chef who takes her time for a boss who wants her to take her time, and diners who want to take their time. And there's this one shot where Juliette Binoche's character is adding cream to vegetables and she just folds in the cream gently for what seems like a minute. Is this maybe one of the things that attracts us, is that it's calm in a world where there is none of it. Yeah, I think that that could be part of it. I think that it's also just meditative. And I think that most food content now that we see is fast paced, super cut, loud chopping sounds. It's very chaotic and not at all relaxing, to me anyway. And this movie was like taking a Xanax in the best way. Instead of people shouting at each other, it was just the sound of birds and insects chirping outside the window. Yeah, it was really just like, wow, this is the life that I want to live. This is the life that I want to lead, for sure. I want to talk a little bit about Juliette Binoche's character. There's one scene early on where she's talking about where she learned to cook, and she actually specifically mentions that her dad was a famous pastry chef in Paris. But then she says she actually learned more from her mother because he, the dad, was too "impatient". And it's almost like her character and her lover's approach to cooking is specifically the flip side of what you were talking about before, this male-dominated kind of macho cooking. Is there a reading of this where it's a feminist film? Absolutely, I think so. Especially because she's sort of, to call her the lady of the house is a little reductive, I think she's the person of the house and everyone knows it, even in this extremely male dominated era where women were not really allowed to do much. Seen not heard or heard not seen? Seen not heard or whatever. Not welcome in many spaces, physically and even everybody at the table is like, "Where is she?"I want to hang out with her. She's the one we want to talk to."She's the one that should be dining with us."She's the genius. She's the brilliant person here." I think that made things feel a little bit more special as well. And also just rejecting the idea that women were victimized. In this story she wasn't. It wasn't this traditional plot where perhaps she was relegated or glory was stolen by a man or whatever. It didn't do any of that and I really liked that. I liked that it was sort of letting her be powerful without apology. There's something this movie shares, with another movie that we're covering this season, which is <i>Ratatouille</i>.- Oh, I love <i>Ratatouille,</i> obviously.- Who doesn't? I just watched it also without sound on a plane pretty recently. Well, a quarter of it, but... You have a kid now, so you're gonna be watching it basically weekly, for the rest of- the next decade or so.- I know. Exactly. But they share these heroes, chefs who have this elevated palate and access to the most exquisite food, and they want to create somehow an ideal version of the humblest dish possible. That's their goal. And in this case, it's <i>pot-au-feu,</i> which is basically boiled beef and veggies. The same thing happens in <i>The Menu,</i> the horror thriller, <i>The Menu</i> where the main kind-- There's a molecular chef but he takes his biggest pleasure making a cheeseburger.- What is up with that?- I don't know. Not to bring it back to my book, but I did just write a book called<i>Something From Nothing</i> and that is the ethos there of, sometimes the best things are the simplest and show the most restraint and are the most elegant. You know, I think it's really easy to make an exquisite meal with all of the money and resources and equipment and ingredients and time. But what if you strip it way down and you give somebody a couple beef bones and a turnip or whatever? What can you do with that? Can you make something really exquisite? And I think that that is to me, in this movie, more so than <i>The Menu,</i> is sort of like, the argument that, the mark of a real chef is to reconnect with simplicity and elevate that and sort of make you forget about smoke and mirrors and the hat on a hat and the glitz and the glamour. You know, it's sort of like, "Oh, wow, this is the most wonderful thing." And it is simply beef and vegetables and boiled and in the wrong hands that's terrible, that's a terrible meal. Yeah. I mean, it happens in <i>Big Night,</i> too. The thing is building, the whole plot is building to this insane stunt entree,- the timbale.- Timbale, yeah. And then at the end, it's just one shot of a guy making an omelet.- Yeah.- Strips it all down. But here's the other thing, I'll tell you why I was thinking of this in a second,

first, I'll pose the question: 28:40

Is there maybe also a little bit of, like, guilt for the excesses of being a gourmet in these movies? It's kind of like, maybe this is too much. We can also just cook an egg and appreciate it. I don't know, I think it's definitely more of a flex. I think it's definitely more of like a, I can do something with very little. Because to me that's the most powerful thing you can say. That's the magic trick. Because the flip side and why he chooses to make the <i>pot-au-feu</i> is because the chef before him, the tasting menu was this nine hour tasting menu with the most exquisite pheasants and partridges and fats and beasts and cheeses and techniques and... Because you're a prince or you're this or you're that and you have all the resources and you can do a lot with that. And that is impressive. But that does feel sort of showy and wasteful and gluttonous and like, is it that impressive? That just seems like a show of money. Or a show of time or a show of whatever. But to do something simple, demure and elegant is, I think, a real flex of talent and maturity. The scene you're talking about, for those who haven't seen the movie, very specifically he goes to a prince's house and the prince is gonna have a meal cooked for him, this famous gourmand, and he just comes out with this menu. It takes like five minutes for the chef to read what the menu is going to be. It's insane. But here's the thing that became, the reason why I brought this up, is because there's a scene, I don't know if you remember this or even registered it'cause it's actually a pretty short scene in this movie.- It's the ortolan scene.- I do. Do you want to describe this for people who haven't? I'll describe what ortolan is, first. It's a bird and it's a delicacy in this era. I don't know if it's still practiced today. I think there are places where you can get it. I've heard because I know my cousin did it, not too long ago. But basically...- It's illegal in some countries.- Yes, definitely. It's whole it's served to you and you have to cover your head and the bowl and eat this bird whole under this napkin or cloak. You crunch the bones and eat the whole thing and it's... What is the reason? They say it in the film, it's either-- I've read several reasons why they eat it under the cloth. One is that you don't want to watch your fellow diners eat this thing whole, because it's horrifying, because it's like bones and all, and the other is supposedly to get the aromas. Yes. And then somebody once said, and this is like, I don't know if it's apocryphal, but it's so that you hide yourself from the eyes of God. That's what, okay, that's what I was gonna say, hide yourself in the eyes of God. They say that in the film, I believe. Yeah. It's insane. By the way, they're songbirds that are raised-- They talk about this in the movie, too, they're gorged. It's almost like foie gras. They're gorged until they're twice their size. This I had to look up, I don't think it's mentioned in the movie, they are drowned in Armagnac because we have to make this as brutal as possible, apparently. And delicious. I'm just kidding. There's a lot of negative connotations to this. You have to hide yourself from the eyes of God. And I feel like it's almost a a contrast to what the woman is cooking. There's a guilt to what these dudes are doing going way into this kind of decadence. Yeah, I personally don't want that in my life. But do you think that that's what's going on? I don't know, it's really tough to say how much is intentional in that way or how much of that is just incidental given it was a product of the time. I feel like if you're making a period piece about food in that era, it would be remiss not to include something like ortolan in the context of very wealthy people dining for entertainment, which is effectively what they were doing. And they are shown getting lots of animals, that's for sure. I can so see this movie in your book. Some of the photos from the book could be stills from this movie. Did you actually have it in mind? No. I did art direct the book, but way before I saw the movie. You happen to share-- This is maybe one reason why you like the movie. You guys clearly share an aesthetic. Very much so. Yes, I could say that. But you can tell by the title that this book is about simple recipes. Do you ever cook like the chefs in this film do? No. I'm more likely to make a <i>pot-au-feu.</i> So what is the attraction then, food-wise? Because I'll agree with you, by the way, I don't eat much French food, period. It's just too heavy for me. I think it's just sort of watching anyone do something that if they're good at it, it's interesting and fun to watch. It's the same reason I watch the Olympics. It's really cool to see people who are great at figure skating, but I don't have any interest in doing that myself. That'd kill you. I suppose it did sort of make me be like, maybe I should spend a day doing something kind of extravagant that I would not have otherwise done, you know? Yeah, sure. Near the end of the movie, this is my last question, he makes this <i>pot-au-feu</i> for his young disciple who doesn't like it because it has bone marrow in it, and he says that it's a very complex flavor. And he says something that seems very profound, but I can't quite figure it out.<i>C'est normal, tu es trop jeune.</i> He says, "You're too young."<i>Il faut de la culture, de la mémoire, pour que le goût se forme.</i> And he says, "It takes culture and a good memory to shape one's taste." What do you think that means? I think that you don't know what you like until you've lived a little bit. And I think that I have much better taste today than I did when I was 22. That's absolutely sure. It gets at something that I feel, which is that there are certain foods I hated as a kid that I love as an adult, and I'm somehow proud of it, like it's evidence that I've grown as a human. Don't they say that we also-- Our cells turn over every seven years or something? We become new people every seven years. Physically. And taste is like the symbolic sensory metaphor for that. For chefs or just for people growing up. Absolutely. There you have it, the MUBI podcast for this week. Follow us to fill up on more stories about food and film next week. The tale of a guy who took action movie style... I've been obsessed with slow motion. When I went to USC, I wanted to make <i>The Matrix</i>....and used it to shoot pieces of raw fish. Director David Gelb on<i>Jiro Dreams of Sushi,</i> the movie that made omakase a worldwide phenomenon. Follow us so you don't miss it. Til then, if you got questions, comments or a guilty pleasure of your own you want to cop to send it to us, our email is podcast@mubi.com And now let's roll credits. This episode is written, hosted and edited by me, Rico Gagliano. Ciara McEniff is our producer with help from assistant producer Kat Kowalczyk. Jackson Musker is our booking producer. Stephen Colon mastered this episode. Our original music is composed by Martin Austwick. Thanks this week to Corrina Lesser and the Larsen family. The show's executive produced by me along with Efe Çakarel, Daniel Kasman and Michael Tacca. And finally, to watch the best in cinema, subscribe to MUBI at mubi.com Thanks for listening. And hey, while we're talking eggs, season sour cream with hot sauce, whip a spoonful into your scrambled eggs, sandwich that between sliced bread and grill it up all buttery. Where's my Michelin star? That's all I'm saying.