"You know, you would think the one thing... they would have in this under-populated moose farm is fresh air, right?" "All the way into town I am stuck behind a cattle truck... breathing in manure fumes for six and a half miles." "You put Mrs. Kataknukani inside?" "She canceled." "She canceled?" "She changed her mind." "We were going to remove the nevus from her nose, right?" "I mean, granted, it's a benign mole... but she changed her mind about a surgical procedure?" "What am I running here?" "A dress shop?" "This is ridiculous." "What's that?" "Invitation." "Wax seal." "Wow." "You don't see those very often." "May I?" "Nice paper." "It's thick." "Feels like linen." "Oh, look at this calligraphy, Marilyn." ""Miss Marilyn Whirlwind," very fancy." "Looks like gold ink." "It is." "Really?" "Wow." "What is it, somebody's wedding?" "Party." "Really?" "Some party." "Whose?" "Maurice." "Maurice is having a party?" "A blowout." "You're kidding, what for?" "Because he's alone and rich." "Oh, let me see." ""Maurice J. Minnifield requests the pleasure of your company for dinner..." ""on the 15th day of March, 1993..." ""saluting 25 years of Minnifield Communications. "" "Black tie optional." "Oh." "Sounds great." "It's not there." "What, I didn't get an invitation?" "Uh-uh." "Come on." "Where'd you put it?" "You didn't get one." "I didn't get the invitation?" "Uh-uh." "Huh." "Well..." "Okay." "Fine." "I will be in my office." "Okay, Frenchy, what do you think?" "That one there?" "This one?" "No." "She is too much fat." "I think this one." "Look at the gill." "Very nice." "Okay, take care of him." "Get those spuds in the pantry." "You, with the baby turnips, follow him." "Where was I?" "Oh, yeah." "Apéritifs, Drambuie... and Armagnac, eight bottles each." "Where the hell is my cassis?" "Good news, Maurice, the blackamoors came in." "They'll be perfect with your tall beeswax tapers." "With the Spode China, damask tablecloth... and our pomegranate topiary centerpieces." "Oh, hold it." "Pomegranates?" "You're putting fruit in the flower arrangements?" "Very elegant look, Maurice." "Classic, tactile." "The halved pomegranate with the red-seeded white flesh... against the dark red leathery skin." "Remember the building blocks of atmosphere:" "lighting, texture, color, progression." "Yeah." "All right, I'll leave that to you... you people are born to ambience." "But try to act normal at the party, okay?" "By the way, how's Eric doing with the chair slags?" "I'm covering that, Maurice." "Eric got called away to Frisco." "His former "friend" is trying to sell the casa in the Castro." "All right, whatever, just see that it's done, okay?" "Come here, I want to show you something." "Come here." "Oh, Maurice." "A KBHR cake." "Yeah, yeah." "How do you like... that gold-leaf antenna there?" "Awesome." "You think so?" "Absolutely." "I thought it was appropriate for the silver jubilee." "Pulled sugar and piping like that does not come cheap." "You don't have to tell me that." "This cake is setting me back $10,000." "You are really shooting with both pistols... aren't you, Maurice?" "I guess so." "Sounds like we've got a little crisis back there." "Excuse me." "Whoa, whoa, whoa." "Simmer down there, Frenchy." "What's got you so itchy under the apron?" "They sold it." "They sold it, those cowboy sons of bitches!" "What, sold what?" "The demi-glace for the Sauce Rossini." "That Argentinean bastard shipped it to Nippon." "To Japan?" "He can't do that." "I've had that contract for six months." "I paid top dollar for that beef." "They went higher." "We are screwed, number one now." "To hell with it, I'll make a stock." "The hell you will." "You want demi-glace, you've got demi-glace." "From where?" "You have six steers in the slaughter?" "To make the demi-glace, it needs the flesh and bones of 40 cows." "40, monsieur." "Simmering, stir, cook... and cook down until there is nothing at the end." "Nothing, just a teacup... a thimbleful of beef's most precious essence." "Easier to find a pearl in a pig's ear." "Hold it!" "You hone your Sabatiers and put on your water, Frenchy." "You'll get your beef." "Morning, Joel." "Hiya, Ruth-Anne." "Did I get any mail by any chance?" "Mail?" "No, I don't think so." "Could you just check?" "You know, sometimes people misplace things." "They forget things." "Especially older people, nothing personal, but..." "Well, I just dusted out the mail bin, Joel." "Well, thanks anyway." "Mmm-hmm." "Although..." "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" "Well, if you must." "Did Maurice send you an invitation?" "Yes, he always does." "Always?" "Oh, he throws these shindigs every so often." "Fiftieth birthday, anniversary of his space flight..." "They're monuments to himself." "Maurice celebrating Maurice." "And these are big parties?" "The biggest." "Really?" "And the best." "The best of everything." "Food, music..." "You know how he is." "He likes to play lord of the manor... invite all us serfs up to the castle." "Trot out the Tiffany silver and the finger bowls." "Finger bowls?" "Maurice and finger bowls?" "Between you and me..." "I think it's just obscene with all the pain and misery in this world." "Here he comes with his Pol Roger Champagne... and beluga caviar and escargot." "Beluga caviar?" "Like $50 an ounce, beluga caviar?" "Oh, will you listen to me?" "Regular two-faced Annie." "So, you're not gonna go?" "Oh, of course, I'm going." "There's caviar, Joel." "Big mountains of it." "Well, have a good time." "Oh, I will." "Boy, this is really fancy-shmancy." "Yeah, that, too." "One thing about Maurice, he certainly has style." "Yeah, and he's not chintzy, either." "He wrote our whole names out in real gold." ""Mr. Holling Gustav Vincouer..." ""and Mrs. Shelly Marie Tambo-Vincouer. "" "Looks like he took a curling iron to the "y. "" "The letters are all scrinched and ruffly." "I'm gonna put it in my book... right next to my First Holy Communion card... and me and Wayne's wedding invites." "Afternoon, Joel." "Well, hello." "Hey, Dr. Fleischman." "Dave made cream of cauliflower." "All right, I'll take a chance." "And how about a mooseburger?" "But please tell Dave under no circumstances... any of that special Brick sauce." "The pickle chips and olive pieces?" "Yeah, I don't even wanna look at it." "Okay." "We were just admiring our invites, Joel." "Maurice surely outdid himself this time." ""Master Ed Chigliak, Cicely, Alaska. "" "So you got an invitation as well, huh?" "Yup, well, it's the first year I've been old enough to sit at the big table." "It's gonna be so cool, Dr. Fleischman, totally rad." "Yep, but last time he had fire-eaters... and one of those women, they put their legs around their neck?" "A contortionist." "The Barnum  Bailey Circus." "You're saying Maurice brought the entire Barnum  Bailey Circus?" "Mmm-hmm." "Here to Cicely?" "Yeah." "Mmm-hmm." "Yeah, for the one on his 50th birthday... he had The Blue Angels fly over... and a parachute drop by the National Guard." "Yep, I remember it was cloudy all week and it stormed... then at the last moment, the sun broke through the sky." "Oh, yeah." "That was a doozy." "Racks of lamb... and roasted pigs stuffed with thrushes." "100 Maine lobsters, and that was just for the fish course." "Oh, and there was this mile-long table... bearing sweets of every kind." "Italian plum tartlets, and marzipan cakes... and my favorite, croquembouche." "That's a mile-high pastry with these cream puffs... and nougat syrup... and you just pick off the little cream puffs... and pop them into your mouth one by one, ah." "Oh, yeah." "Oh, man." "That was some kind of feed, Joel, I tell you." "Mmm." "I hope we have littleneck clams again this time." "Oh, you're going too, huh?" "Wild dogs couldn't keep me away, Dr. Fleischman." "Yep, definitely the social event of the season." "Mmm-hmm." "Decade." "My life." "The ultimate kegger." "No special sauce." "Yeah, thanks, Dave." "Hi, Maggie." "Hey!" "What you doing?" "I've been at Anchorage International all morning." "Look at this." "Foie gras from Lyon... black truffles from Gascony, and asparagus from Amsterdam." "Isn't asparagus supposed to be green?" "Well, they grow it in straw, so that it never photosynthesizes." "Huh?" "You know, turns green." "Oh, cool." "So, what are you wearing?" "Probably my teal with the bow on the bottom." "Or the mini with the rhinestones." "Or, my really low-cut black leather one... that makes Holling's eyes glaze over." "You?" "Oh, I'm gonna wear my black jumpsuit." "Ooh, that one always hots and bothers them." "What's all this straw stuff doing here?" "Oh, it's cushioning the wine." "Wine-cushion?" "Like a wine pincushion?" "Yeah." "Maurice didn't want the wine juggling around the back of the truck." "It's not good for it." "It raises the sediment." "See, it's very old." "French, very expensive." "Like how much?" "I don't know, I can't really say." "Like $20?" "No, no, no." "Much more than that, Shelly." "More like hundreds." "Especially that one." "Wow, it's so grungy." "Mmm." "Well, it's old, look at that." ""Chateau Latour, 1929"." "And you can still drink it?" "Oh, yeah." "Boy, they sure must have screwed the cork in tight." "Well, I gotta go, I got a lot more stuff to pick up for Maurice." "Okay, see you." "See you." "Hey, Shelly." "Oh, man!" "Shelly?" "Yeah?" "What are you doing in there, hon?" "Shelly?" "Just looking." "You seen any number two jars of pickled pigs' feet?" "Uh-uh." "It's time to put them on order." "What are you looking for?" "We are jumping mad tonight." "Dave and I could use a couple of hands." "Hon, this the only kind of wine we got?" "Well, no." "We got white." "And pink also." "I don't mean that." "I mean wine that's old." "Dusty." "Well that's plenty dusty." "Yeah, but, Holling, where do we keep the... you know, hundreds and hundreds of dollar bottles?" "Now, Shelly, how would we get a bottle that big in here?" "We'd have to knock out one of the walls." "You said Stern, I expect Stern." "I will not settle for some wet-behind-the-ear fiddler fresh out of Julliard." "No, hold on a minute, Eliot." "Ed, damp down that flame." "I got squeezed top dollar for those 40 gravy cows." "If you break a boil on that demi-glace, it'll cloud up... we'll have to dump it in the minestrone." "Yeah, Eliot, can you get Perlman to cancel in Brazil?" "Yeah." "Knut Svenborg?" "That Swedish meatball with the earring?" "Yeah." "Okay, we'll give him a try." "But, if he's as flaky as he looks..." "I'm personally coming and stomping your butt, Eliot!" "Well, well, well!" "Très cordon bleu, Minnifield." "Nice boar you got out back." "What the hell are you doing here?" "Well, I heard you're having a little fête for the rabble." "We're busy here, Adam." "Adam?" "You!" "No, no, no." "Monsieur Adam, I can explain." "You thief!" "You hack!" "I teach you everything I know, and then you stab me in the back!" "It was not my fault." "It was a mistake!" "You stole my recipe for Pommes Anglaise." "I saw it on the menu at L'Ambroisie!" "Come on, come on... break it up, break it up!" "It was an homage." "I thought you were dead." "I lived on rats for three weeks... in a bombed-out basement you miserable pissant ingrate!" "Three opium merchants and a German shepherd had to dig me out." "I paid them with the gold fillings from my teeth!" "You..." "What is that?" "What's that smell?" "It couldn't be." "Yes!" "Yes, it is!" "Glace de Viande?" "You're making demi-glace here?" "Oui, you see?" "Glace de viande." "Stay." "Cook." "I ought to chop you up and throw you in the bouillabaisse." "Got get one of your toadies to fetch my knives." "Skim!" "A- ha!" "Dr. Fleischman!" "Hey, Eve." "How are you?" "What do we have here?" "Don't tell me." "Cain?" "Abel?" "Aldrich." "Aldrich?" "You named your baby Aldrich?" "It's a family thing." "My mother's side, the Charleston Aldriches." "Aldrich, well, that's definitely Adam's kid... same blue hat, same no shoes." "Hi, Aldrich." "Uh-uh." "I've seen your scrub soap, Dr. Fleischman." "Hygiene is no place to scrimp." "I'll be bringing Aldrich by later for a complete workup." "Yellow fever, plus typhus boosters." "We'll bring our own soap." "Well, why stop there?" "What about a treadmill test?" "Huh?" "We could do an EKG, we could do a lipid profile, urinalysis..." "What else?" "We could do liver, kidney, electrolytes, sugar." "Goodbye, Dr. Fleischman." "How you doing, Marilyn?" "What?" "What, you think I'm upset about the party?" "Marilyn, please, I'm not upset about that party." "Really, I could care less." "I mean, you want to talk party, I've been to some parties." "There was MOMA... the Museum of Modern Art, the Founder's Gala... for the Rauschenberg retrospective." "Now, that was a party." "That was a party." "I think Mick Jagger was there." "Walter Annenberg, Liza Minnelli." "So don't talk to me about some..." "Hicksville backwoods soirée with a pig on a spit." "It doesn't interest me." "You know... the thing is, I know why he didn't invite me... that's the thing, you know?" "You want to know why?" "I mean... how am I supposed to know he's writing off his four-by as a snowplow for the city?" "Guy says he's from the IRS... the Federal government." "What am I gonna do?" "Am I gonna lie?" "He just..." "He asked me." "I told him, I said, no..." "I've never seen Maurice plow snow." "I mean..." "I can't imagine how he found out." "That's the thing." "Unless you told him." "Can I get you anything, Dr. Fleischman?" "Yes, please." "I would like a decaf to go, black... and a couple of those butterscotch brownies, if you would." "And I hope that the coffee is maybe a little stronger than dishwater for a change." "How much does an expensive bottle of wine cost?" "Exactly?" "What kind?" "Well, the good kind, you know, with a cork, and from France." "Well, you know, I mean... there are a lot of great French wines, Shelly." "It depends what you're talking about, there's Bordeaux, and there's Burgundy, and..." "I mean, there's a lot of great French vineyards as well." "There's Château Lafite, and Château Margaux, and..." "Mouton Rothchild, and Chateau Latour" "That one!" "Latour." "How much?" "About?" "Chateau Latour?" "That's..." "Yeah, that's a great wine." "That's one of the top five... and, I mean, the price would depend on the vintage." "You know, the year." "1929." "1929, that would be up there." "That would be way up there." "I don't know." "I guess... $5,000, $6,000." "Dollars?" "Oh, yeah." "Oh, yeah, at least." "Thanks." "And now for the sauce." "The final reduction." "Hours upon hours... of simmering... stirring... and straining and it all comes down to this moment... this precious fluid... this elixir of beef." "One false step by one ignorant... ham-fisted, boneheaded cluck... and toodle-oo!" "Forty cows down the toilet." "Could you breathe or nod or something, so I know you're alive?" "Good." "Now, I'm sure..." "I don't have to remind any of you Wolfgang Puck wannabes... the roux cannot be hot... it cannot be cold." "It must be:" "Warm." "Amazing." "They just look brain-dead." "They actually cogitate." "They form words." "Now, I realize I'm going out on a limb here... this is probably just a futile exercise... in futility." "But why?" "Why?" "Why?" "Why must the roux be warm?" "What?" "Am I talking to myself?" "I forgot." "Because it will poach." "It will poach!" "You moron!" "God!" "I can't stand this!" "I hate women who think that they can cook!" "Why do I bother?" "Why do I even cook?" "Because you're hungry?" "What did you just say?" "Nothing." "Oh, you did." "You said something." "Say it." "Say it!" "Because you're hungry." "Yes... because I'm hungry." "I, Adam, am hungry!" "I want to eat!" "And what do I want to eat?" "Something that you made?" "No." "I want something good." "I want something that I made!" "My smoked sturgeon with poached egg on frisée." "The hollandaise blending with the runny yellow yolk... counterpointing the crispness of the fresh greens." "My ratatouille, my coulibiac of bass!" "My Chicken Pojarski!" "The cream and the brandy and the paprika... blending with the juices of my mouth... moving me to the pinnacle... of gustatory ecstasy!" "Ha, ha, ha." "Monsieur Adam... the boar, she is dead." "Gangway!" "I've got the crown jewels here... the pancreas and the thymus." "Where's the brine bucket?" "Sweetbreads." "Yo, mama!" "Chris on KBHR... heading into the home stretch of the party-hearty countdown." "Still time to press those trousers and perm those 'dos." "Got a little note here." "Ruth-Anne's out of Kiwi boot-black... only three cans of mousse and a jar of Dippity Do left on the shelf." "Now if you're like me, you're probably planning to tie one on... bark at the moon, pee off the porch, and all that." "Well, I say, all right, go for it... 'cause I know many of you have made it home in worse condition." "It's just, there's gonna be a lot of us out there tomorrow night... we're gonna be working without the benefit of the full moon." "And I, for one, don't want to see your high beams... closing in on me four feet over the line, if you know what I mean." "So, do the right thing." "Designate a driver." "Sign up tonight after bingo, in front of the Theosophy Hall." "Heimlich maneuver workshop to be announced." "Party!" "So there I am... at the Zurich Obstetrics Center." "Zaniger thought I was fine... but I saw signs of possible premature delivery." "I insisted on bed rest." "Six weeks." "Then labor." "Three hours." "I know what you're thinking." "By some standards that's not very long... but my contractions were extremely violent." "Extremely." "It looked as though we were faced with a posterior presentation... with its concurrent coccygeal pain and perianal laceration." "This baby was a posterior presentation?" "Well, actually, no." "The delivery concluded without incident." "And in any case, I'd come prepared... with six units of my own blood." "Okay, there we go." "That wasn't too bad, huh?" "Yes." "Yes." "Congratulations, because you have... a beautiful, healthy, baby boy." "Are you sure?" "I am positive." "The chubby cheeks... the round belly, the slight acne on his brow... doesn't that point to an overactive adrenal gland?" "What, you think he's Cushionoid?" "Don't you?" "Those are the classic symptoms of Cushing's disease." "And what about his hips?" "Did you listen to his hips?" "When I was changing his diaper, I heard a click." "A possible dislocated femoral head, don't you think?" "No, Eve, this baby is not Cushionoid." "There was no click, okay?" "The baby is healthy and you are out of here." "Bye-bye." "Joel, you got a minute?" "I need a few incidentals in my first aid kit." "Nothing fancy." "You know, smelling salts, nitro tab... iodine, that sort of thing." "In case somebody gets an oyster shell stuck in his throat... or steals a fork and punctures his butt when he sits on it." "You want medical supplies from me for your party?" "Well, I've got a short-term liability policy... from Lloyd's of London... but, you know how people are." "They come to your house eat like wolves... and then get a splinter in their finger and sue you blind." "Yeah, I know how it is, Maurice." "Okay, sure, I'll give you medical supplies." "You want medical supplies?" "Here you go." "Let's see, I got some Q-tips here... got some hydrogen peroxide..." "I got some Ace bandages." "Huh?" "How about that?" "I got some sterile gauze, I got some burn cream." "What else do we need?" "You want some aspirin, Maurice?" "There you go." "Hey, hey, hey." "Calm down, get a grip on yourself." "You know, look, I didn't know about your Suburban, all right?" "Suburban?" "Are you talking about my car?" "Do you think that I would rat you out on purpose?" "I mean, is that what you think?" "To not invite me to your party?" "To hold such a grudge?" "Is that what you think?" "I mean, you drag me up here, I'm trapped against my will." "It's the first thing I ever wanted to do, Maurice." "You know, you're just vindictive, Maurice." "You are vindictive... and you are cold and I always knew it and this just proves it." "What the hell are you talking about?" "Well, I'm talking about you not inviting me to your party, aren't I?" "I invited you to my party." "You did?" "Yeah." "When?" "Well, Maggie had the invitations, I'm sure yours was in there." "O'Connell?" "Yeah, she picked them up from the calligrapher down in Anchorage... and passed them out a couple of days ago." "Coming." "Coming." "Coming." "Coming." "Hey, Fleischman." "This is too much, O'Connell, this is beyond anything." "I mean, I have seen some behavior from you... but this is so hurtful and so cruel." "What?" "What are you talking about?" "To let me be excluded and left out like that... and everyone, everyone got these beautiful invitations... with the gold calligraphy and the beluga caviar." "You know I have abandonment issues." "You just find that button and you just push... and you push and you push, don't you?" "Look, Fleischman, I delivered your invitation." "If you got an invitation, I delivered it." "I didn't get an invitation and you didn't deliver it." "Yes, I did!" "And, look, maybe it got lost or misplaced... but hey, nobody's perfect." "O'Connell, I know that you're totally conflicted... about your attraction to me and now that Mike is out of the picture... you probably feel particularly exposed and vulnerable." "No, I don't." "I do not." "To be so threatened by your attraction... that you need to obliterate me." "I mean, come on, consciously or unconsciously, to act out your rage in such a..." "It's so destructive, O'Connell, it is so childish." "Look, Fleischman, first of all, I feel fine." "I feel terrific." "As a matter of fact, I've never felt better in my life!" "And secondly, you're not on my mind." "You're not on my conscience... you're not even on my subconscious, Fleischman!" "You're nowhere!" "Okay, fine, O'Connell." "Oh, it's peaceful in here." "Quiet." "A man can hear himself think among these carcasses." "I could, if you would shut up and let me do my job!" "The smell of the beef, sawdust, takes me back to Tulsa." "My granddaddy had a little weekend farm there." "Had a sizeable meat-house in it." "I remember my first slaughter." "Granddaddy let me hold the rifle barrel behind the steer's ear." "And then, bam!" "1,200 pounds crashed to the ground." "I felt the ground shake." "And then Granddaddy hoisted him up by his heels... slit his throat." "A lot of blood." "Two, three buckets, at least." "This is good." "I'll start with this one, I can carve a fairly good tenderloin out of this." "You like that one, huh?" "I just said I liked it, didn't I?" "What do I have to do?" "Clap like a seal?" "That, my friend... is USDA prime grade beef." "It's not your French-speaking "Charolais parlez-vous" crap." "Or your beer-fed Nipponese Kobe beef." "No, no." "This was free-ranged down in Tampa." "Trucked up here, finished off on oats and corn." "Look at it, look at the texture." "The marbling." "The creamy white fat." "Oh, yeah." "That, my friend... that is beef." "Reindeer patty, medium rare, hold the bun." "Hmm." "You said no bun, I heard you." "No, bun, medium rare, double slaw." "It's right here on the ticket." "Shelly, are you all right?" "Why?" "I think you ought to have your thyroid checked... you look a little exophthalmic to me." "Oh, God." "It shows, doesn't it?" "I didn't mean to do it, Eve." "I was just looking, I hardly even touched it." "And, I don't know... it went clink on the tailgate of the truck." "What went clink?" "The wine." "Maurice's crummy old wine." "Tomorrow he's gonna be looking for it." "And he's gonna start asking questions... and he's gonna find out it was me." "Just get him another one." "I can't, I looked." "There aren't any." "It came specially all the way from France." "Do you have the label?" "I saved the whole bottle." "Fill it up with something else." "Nobody'll know." "He's an expert, he'll be able to tell." "And then he's gonna kill me." "Look, I once substituted lawn clippings for dill weed." "Adam said it was my best vinaigrette yet." "And you know how sensitive his palate is." "Huh." "So, you think I could, like, fake Maurice out?" "Make him think it was his 1929 Latour?" "Chateau Latour?" "Yeah." "1929?" "Yeah, is that bad?" "Well, gee, '29." "Good." "Adam?" "What?" "Are you sure you peeled enough of those spuds?" "Say one more word, Minnifield, one more... and these Pommes Anglaise are going to be tater tots, you get my drift?" "How are the blinis for the caviar?" "Very nice, Monsieur." "Good." "All right, let's see what we have here." "You." "Good." "Good." "I want a brush under those fingernails before you take your station." "Good." "That's better." "Knock down that cowlick, you look like Alfalfa." "Good." "All right, most of you have worked for me before." "Those of you who haven't... you can learn the drill from your comrades." "Number one, I want those champagne flutes full." "I do not want my guests rubbernecking for a bottle of bubbly." "Number two, this is French service... that means serve from the left, clear from the right." "And I do not want people hovering over my guests." "Any of you have trouble with any of that... you can collect your checks now and clear out." "Hey you... that's Baccarat Crystal you're rattling around there, be careful." "Yes Sir." "At ease." "All right, gentlemen, let's pick up the pace here, we're coming down to the wire." "Ron, chair slags?" "They're coming along, Maurice." "I had a mini-crisis in the night." "My pyracantha drooped." "I've slipped in some euphorbia, can you tell?" "No, no, it looks fine." "All right, well, we got another problem." "What?" "It's this caviar station." "Well, what about it?" "Well, don't you see?" "It's all wrong." "I don't know what I was thinking about." "It will completely ruin the flow." "All right, you, when you get finished there, help Ron with his caviar stand." "Thanks, Maurice." "You're a prince." "Where the hell is that violin player?" "If Eliot doesn't get him here, I'm gonna stretch his hide." "Hello, let me talk to Eliot!" "I don't give a damn if he's on another line, get him on the phone!" "Oh, man." "Why does Maurice even have to have his stupid party?" "Everything was fine before." "Now my life is trashed." "Shelly, peat moss, please." "Isn't this dirt?" "Holling pots his crocuses in it." "It'll lend sediment and a nice earthy undertone." "Well?" "It's close." "Vanilla." "Vanilla." "Pepper." "Are you sure this is gonna work?" "Shelly, I once polished off... a quart of Adam's 50-year-old Laphroaig scotch." "I was waiting for blood results, I was tense." "All they had at the corner store, was Clan McGregor." "I put in a little liquid smoke... a dash of Chanel No. 5... and... this is brilliant... sandalwood incense." "Adam never suspected." "Of course, that wasn't a '29 Latour." "Hmm." "What?" "What's wrong?" "Let's try a little more of the green food coloring." "God." "Blowing $4,000 on the Home Shopping Network... that was one thing." "At least I have a diamond tiara to show for it, but this..." "This stupid bottle of wine." "Holling's gonna throw a rod." "I'll never see Johnny again." "There." "A good deep color with a plummy veneer and a velvety nose." "Huh." "It does kind of look like it looked before." "Super glue." "Isn't that gonna make it taste all gooey?" "It's to put the bottom on, Shelly." "Oh, right." "Plays an electrifying fiddle, doesn't he?" "Certainly does." "That little hothead would have made first chair of the Chicago Phil... if he hadn't decked Solti." "Is that a fact?" "Waiter!" "Hold on, I want some of these brie dealies." "You're really packing it away, aren't you, Ruth-Anne?" "Is that a problem this year?" "Oh, no." "Just save a little room for dinner." "Mr. Vincouer." "Maurice." "Mrs. Tambo-Vincouer." "Maurice, I have never in my life seen anything to compare." "Yeah, worked out all right, didn't it?" "Not one red cent of it tax-deductible, but what the hey, right?" "Well, come on in, let's wet your whistle." "Shelly?" "What?" "Your coat, dear." "What about it?" "May I take it?" "No!" "Excuse me." "I gotta go pee." "Must be the excitement and all." "Beautiful." "Champagne?" "Ah, yes." "Hey, Holling." "Good evening, Chris." "Maggie, everybody." "Hey." "The shrimp toast is delicious... but you must try the Chinese Pearl Balls." "They are..." "Maurice, everything is beautiful." "Yes." "The lights, Ron's flowers..." "It's just like a movie." "Yep." "History is Made at Night, Charles Boyer, 1937." "I love Boyer." "Probably because people always said we looked like twins." "Mmm." "You do." "I met Boyer once at the 21 Club, in New York." "It was right after my ticker tape parade down Fifth Avenue." "He had a blonde on each arm." "Quite a man with the ladies, Charles Boyer." "I'll say." "Of course, I never had that much trouble with them myself." "Can I hold him?" "Sure." "Absolutely not." "Let him have the baby, Eve." "He may look clean... but you don't know where this man's hands have been." "You want to expose our child to strep?" "Typhus?" "Want him contracting cholera, hepatitis A?" "Think of his liver!" "Oh!" "Aren't you darling!" "O'Connell, can I speak to you for a minute, please?" "Oh, you." "Don't start with me, Fleischman, I'm at a party, I'm having fun." "Can I just speak to you for one second?" "I would like to apologize." "You do?" "Yeah, I was just way out of line." "You were?" "Absolutely." "I mean, I think barging into your place and... you know, losing my temper like that, it's just..." "It's completely unacceptable and I just..." "I would really like you to know that I realize that." "Well... you know, you were probably upset." "Yeah, I was definitely upset, but, I mean, I don't think that's any excuse." "Fleischman, you didn't get your invitation and it probably was my fault." "But I didn't do it on purpose." "Look, regardless, it doesn't matter whether you did it on purpose or not." "That's not the issue." "It's not?" "No." "As far as I'm concerned, consciously or unconsciously, your motives are your own." "It's not my business, that's for you to deal with." "Okay." "Great." "Thanks." "Right this way, gentlemen." "I've managed to cellar some rather interesting Sonoma cabs... since the last feed." "My, my, my." "Wonders never cease, Minnifield." "This is incredible, Maurice." "I mean, I knew you collected, but..." "I didn't know it was anything like this." "Yeah, the climate in here is digitally controlled." "The humidity only varies less than one percent." "'61 Mouton-Rothschild." "Boy, that's a good Bordeaux year." "You know, Broadbent gives this wine five stars." "Yeah, that's the best vintage since '45." "Or '29." "Yeah." "You know what '61 I like?" "Ducru-Beaucaillou Bordeaux." "Oh, yes, dry and cedary." "Nice nose." "Good legs." "Ducru-Beaucaillou?" "It's a little boutique vineyard." "I think I first tasted it at Dr. Richele's tasting... in Pensacola in '86." "I had it at a Tannin tasting, '78." "Yeah, how did it hold up?" "Some color loss, it was peaked." "It was past its prime." "Yeah, that's why I didn't bid on it." "But it was delicious while it lasted." "Oh, I've got something over here I'd like to show you, an interesting little Madeira." "My buyer picked it up in Madrid the year before last" "Maurice!" "Dr. Fleischman!" "What?" "We need you up here right away!" "For heavens sake, what now?" "You turn your back on these people for one minute... and they'll screw up a free lunch." "It just came over you suddenly?" "The chills and the nausea and cramping?" "It's the fish." "Fish?" "What fish?" "Him." "You mean the salmon in aspic?" "No." "No, that couldn't be, he was hooked this morning." "I just tasted it." "You know, Marilyn, I ate a bad eel once." "Had me scrunched up on the floor for three days." "Is she gonna be all right?" "Yeah, she's gonna be fine." "I sent someone for something... to calm her stomach down and she upchucked most of it... but maybe we could get her a glass of water." "This thing is a grandmother!" "This is just great." "This is wonderful." "All this work, the expense, and now it's garbage!" "You, this was your fish, Frenchy." "You are fired, you're out of here!" "After I get done with you... you won't be able to get a job at Wolf's Trout Hut." "She smelled nice." "Oh, you're a hack!" "You couldn't man the wheel at a HoJo's." "Minnifield, I'm gonna have to bail you out again." "Eddie!" "You worthless piece of eurotrash, attendez!" "Go get my Sabatiers and a snifter of brandy, on the double!" "And the rest of you, get out of here." "I've got a lot of work to do." "Out!" "Out, out!" "Go on!" "Get out of here!" "You, too, Minnifield." "You especially, get out." "All right, let's get to work." "Where's that brandy?" "Come on!" "Snap to it, buddy!" "Shelly!" "Where have you been?" "You look kind of..." "What is that in your hair?" "Oh, yeah." "It's a cobweb." "I wonder how they get their sweetbreads so crisp?" "It's the batter." "I'd like some more of those delicious little olive rolls." "Scrumptious, isn't it?" "Do you want your tomato rosettes?" "Uh-uh." "I'm gonna have to get the recipe for this gravy, Maurice." "It's tasty." "What's up next?" "Not fish." "Yes, fish." "Soufflé de Clam." "You made this?" "No, Maurice, I got a mix from the convenience store... just plopped in an egg and a cup of water." "Of course I made it, you imbecile." "I went into that sorry excuse of a pantry of yours... and created a masterpiece from K-rations." "My, my, that is so light and fluffy." "It melts right on the tongue!" "Adam, you are a genius!" "Yeah, of course I'm a genius, what are you, blind?" "Are you deaf?" "What do you think I've been devoting my life to all these years?" "Tuna casserole?" "Adam?" "What?" "Check the baby." "I just checked the baby, ten minutes ago, darling." "He was sleeping." "That's what he does." "Sleep." "And when he's not sleeping, he cries, and when he cries... we hear him and then we check him." "Fine." "But when we find our son dead of infant crib syndrome... and our lives are ruined and in shambles... because Aldrich, whom I carried... through a dangerous and difficult pregnancy in my own womb... for nine long months, has ceased to breathe... because you would rather linger at the table, sponging compliments... than go see as to his welfare..." "All right, all right." "Excuse me, everyone!" "If I could just have a moment of your time..." "I would like to make the toast now." "Maurice J. Minnifield... our generous host, friend and employer..." "I'm sure I join everyone here in saying thank you... for these very fine, fine eats and drinks." "You are a real American." "You're an ex-Marine, an astronaut." "You are America." "You're rich, you're rapacious... you're progress without a conscience... paving everything in it's path." "You're five percent of the Earth's population... yet, consuming 25 % of the Earth's natural resources." "You pay a lot of taxes, you do a lot of charity work... most of it's tax deductible... but your heart's in the right place." "One thing's for certain, chief... you have impeccable taste in the booze." "Salutes." "May I say a word?" "Yeah, I guess so." "Thank you." "One thing you can count on, there's no hidden agenda with this man." "Maurice Minnifield is not going to stab you in the back." "No, you're going to see him plunge that dagger right into your belly... pull it up, and twist and twist... until your guts spill right out onto your shoes." "Maurice, my dear friend, you are a homophobe, and a bigot." "But you have a truly marvelous aesthetic... and a truly superb collection of Gershwin LP's." "Here's to you, sir." "Cheers." "Cheers!" "Thank you, Stevens, and thank you, Ron." "While I find your lifestyle both... repugnant and disgusting..." "I must admit... that your bed-and-breakfast is an asset to Cicely." "And you boys don't flaunt your perversions." "Adam, Eve, little Aldrich..." "I'm glad you could make it here." "Adam, I am a rich and powerful man." "But if it had not been for your genius tonight..." "I'd be in deep." "I offer you the pride of my cellar." "The first taste of a '29 Latour." "A wine as pure as nature itself." "Hmm." "Full-figured, peppery... plummy veneer." "Velvety nose." "Rich color." "No fade." "Hmm." "Earthy undertones." "It's..." "It's delicious." "Make sure everyone gets a taste." "Eat!" "Drink!" "Keep pulling those corks." "Cheers, everybody." "Thank you for being here!" "Cheers!"