Cooking Competition Drama and Personal Struggles

Oh my god, that's perfect.

Oh, so sorry. I didn't hear you say corner.

Kumquat?

One minute.

What in the world are you doing?

And three, two, one.

Time!

Very good.

Très bien.

Le moment de vérité.

The moment of truth.

It's everything you've ever taught me, chef.

Enjoy.

You do me great honor.

Thank you, chef.

Soufflé pancakes with flambé kumquats, cream chantilly, and ground pistachios.

Chef.

Being a baker is about precision, consistency.

Being a baker is not about desperate, frantic experimentation.

Congratulations, young man.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh my god.

Nice!

That was a joke, right?

That was a funny little ha-ha little hee-hee joke, no?

No.

You barely tasted that.

And why might that be?

Maybe because...

Uh, no.

It's wrong.

But you knew that, didn't you?

Did you also know that while you're busy out there pretending to be Timothy Chalamet,

he's been sticking pubes in tarts and butter in freezers?

And you know what?

Did you ever consider that the girl with the dead sister might be the one who wants to cry during sex?

So, sugar tits, look at me.

I did not leave my home and my beautiful family to waste this one, this one wild and precious life

working for the goddamn team of Gordon Ramsay, you get it?

Fourth on Top Chef!

It was third!

And you can drop the bad Lumiere impression because we all know that you're from Wisconsin

and that your name is Gilbert!

It's actually Gilbert.

Who's coming with me?

Who, who, who, who, who's coming with me?

You told them to come with you, didn't you?

Yeah, yeah, I did.

No one came with you, did they?

No. No, they did not.

Cowards.

Not really.

Where are they supposed to come to?

I have nothing built.

I have nothing to offer anyone.

Maybe this isn't who I am anymore.

And I just need to accept it.

I need to grow up.

It's time to grow up.

It's time to get a job in accounting.

Honey, you're not good at math.

So bad.

Maybe I'm good now.

I haven't counted in a long time.

We, uh, got something for you.

We found it in the garage.

I feel like I'm letting her down.

You are her hero.

Well, maybe her hero just wants to go back home.

Well, then your home will be waiting for you.

Always.

Sweetheart, there's, uh, something else in there.

What is it? What is it?

Izzy's college fund.

No, I'm not- I can't take that.

It's not much, but we know she'd want you to have it.

You could use it to come back home, get a new apartment, maybe a job in accounting.

Or you could use it to give him hell.

What would Izzy say?