01x12 - Corned Beef and Handcuffs

I'm thinking about going vegan.

Really? Why?

Diet, health, compassion for animals?

I am not happy with how my urine smells.

Then stop smelling it!

Oh! Don't look!

Don't smell, don't look... you're bossy today!

Isn't that the chef from your restaurant?


He's kind of cute.

No! He's not!

Everyone at work is terrified of him.

How scary can he be? He's carrying a purse.

Hey! Hello there.

[whispering] Damn!


Chef Rudy, good to see you.

Good to see you, too... I wanna say... Meredith?


Right. And your mother Bonnie.

I work with you every day, and her you remember?

Does a thirsty man forget a tall glass of water?

May I join you?


So, my daughter tells me everyone at work is frightened of you.

Ooh, that's very sweet. Thank you.

So, what kind of naughtiness is the mother-daughter team up to today?

Don't go there.

Mmm, too late. Mental snapshot. Click.

We've just come back from the drugstore, where we bought some, you know... girl stuff.



What are you up to today?

Oh, just blowing the dust off my spyder.

Beg pardon?

I have a vintage Porsche Spyder.

She's high-strung, impulsive, and if I don't ride her hard at least once a day, she misbehaves.

I'm the same way.



Aw, all out of film.

Yeah. I will bid you adieu.

A la prochaine.

Yeah, I just know "adieu."

Tell me you haven't tapped that.

Of course not.


1x12 - Corned Beef and Handcuffs

Can I ask you a little friendly advice vis-Ã-vis my personal affairs?

Oh. Yeah. Sure.

Great. What are my chances of bedding your mother?


I felt there was chemistry between us.

But I feel that with a lot of women, often with disastrous results.

Fun fact: Pepper spray tastes nothing like pepper.

All right, look...


I don't want to get involved here, but...

I will tell you she was quite taken with you.

Oh, I knew it.

When I walked out of that coffee shop, my testicles were on fire.

You might want to get those looked at.

That's what I'm trying to do.

Be a dear, get her on the phone for me.

Okay, but I got to warn you about my mother.

There's a little crazy up in them thar hills.

Mm-hmm. Well, you know what they say, "nothing soils the sheets like crazy."

How are you allowed to touch food?

Hi, Mom, it's me.

I'm probably going to regret this, but...

He's right here.

Hey, you. Been ridden hard yet, today?

Aah, clickety-click, click, click.

Is Grandma having dinner with us?

No, she's got a date.

Cool. You know the guy?

I do.

So, do you think they'll hit it off?

I'm thinking murder-suicide.

It's so weird to think of your Grandma dating.

My Grandma weighs 300 pounds and has one leg.

Well, doesn't mean there's not someone out there for her.

That's true.

My Grandfather would sure love it if she met somebody.


Oh, I'll get it.

Well, Grandma will be easy to spot at the wedding.

Well, you must be Violet.

No, I-I'm Luke.

Well, you're very pretty, nonetheless. Bonnie here?

Uh, she's getting ready. Come on in.


Thank you.

Well, I had you pegged for a house on wheels.

That's the dream. Can I get you something to drink?

I wouldn't mind a glass of Pinot Grigio.

I wouldn't mind a bucket of Gin.

But, uh, all we've got is tap water and milk.

Mmm. I'll pass. What am I smelling?

I made dinner.

No, that can't be it.

Do you have pets?

It's corned beef and cabbage.

Oh, yes, poor people food.

My apologies. It smells delicious.

Ready to go?

Oh, well, there's a tasty morsel. Yum, yum.

Thank you.

He's gonna eat her?

Shall we?

Did you bring the Spyder?

Freshly lubed for your pleasure.

Ooh! Bye, family.

Have fun.

Are we poor people?

Of course not. Now, eat your boiled meat.

Wow, that was quite an education, watching a master Chef shop for groceries.

Well, I think it's important to feel and smell the things we put inside us.

I got to tell you, if I'm smelling it, I'm not feeling it.

So, um, what are we having?

Well, it's a tasting menu that I call "seven small explosions in your mouth."

Seven, huh? Let's see.

Salty, sweet, savory, sour... help me.

Crunchy, creamy and Rudy.

Ooh. What's Rudy taste like?

Pistachios, I've been told.


But the real magic happens when we start to combine flavors.

For example, take a simple cherry tomato.

Squirt a little aged balsamic vinegar into its fleshy center.

"Cherry," "squirt," "fleshy."

You can't help yourself, can you?

It's very hard.


That's not sweet like a tomato or sour like vinegar.

Exactly. It's a third thing that didn't exist until one was driven deep inside the other.

And yes, I know what I just said.

Where'd you go to culinary school?

Can you keep a secret?

Of course.

A Denny's in Boston.

I worked the late shift; there's a lot of time to screw around.

Where's the Boston accent?

I dropped it.

[Boston accent] Hard to charge 60 bucks for lobster chowder with capers.

Ah. Yeah.

Well, where are my manners? Can I get you a glass of wine?

No, thank you. I don't drink.




How is it that you have not killed yourself?

I'm more of a homicide girl.

Well, then, as a good host, I won't drink, either.

Ah, who am I kidding?

So, why do you abstain?

I'm allergic to alcohol.

Every time I drink, I break out in handcuffs.



I have a rather remarkable collection of wine and handcuffs.

You know, next to great food, beautiful women and vintage cars, wine is what brings me the most happiness.

No, actually, it's women, then food...

No, wine, women... ah, I left out pills.

It's pills, wine...

I get the point.

Let's see how sophisticated your palate is. Hmm?

Put on this blindfold.

Well, I usually charge 50 bucks extra for that, but okay.

I knew I liked you.


And... you ready?

Do it.

What do you taste?

Mmm. Fig?

Very good. Now, try this.



And here comes the pistachios.


Walk of shame?

Stride of pride.

Did you consider, for even a minute, to go slow with this guy?

See a movie, shop at the flea market, text him a picture of your boobs.

You know, like a lady.

I did think about it.


I chose instead to do him on the floor of his kitchen.

What is wrong with you? Don't you have any self-respect?

Oh, please. Self-respect is for women who spend Saturday night alone with their showerhead set on pulse.

That's a terrible thing to say.

And I happen to have a stiff neck from work.

Did it ever occur to you that what happened last night between me and Rudolph was the start of something wonderful?

Oh, wake up!

It's a one-night stand between a middle-aged alcoholic and a s*x addict.

How dare you call me middle-aged?

And it was not a one-night stand.

Rudy and I are two ingredients, which, when combined, create a third thing which... never existed before.

What the hell are you talking about?

I don't know! It's a tomato thing!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go take a shower.

To clean myself.

You'll never be clean!

[door slams]

So, are we gonna talk about it?

Well, I was gonna be a gentleman and spare you the details, but as you wish.

Your mother is sleek yet powerful, like an enormous greyhound.

Yeah, great. Not what I want to talk about.

I... I just want to put it out there that no matter where your relationship goes with her, you and I maintain a professional relationship here.

Okay, two things wrong with that, Meredith.

First of all, you and I don't have a professional relationship.

I'm a world-class Chef, and you are a waitress.

And no offense, but I would be just as happy to put my food on a tiny toy train that choo-choos into the dining room.

And secondly, I have absolutely no plans to pursue a relationship with your mommy.


I thought the two of you made "a third thing".

With a tomato.

No, that's just my rap when I'm trying to filet some panties.


So, you're not planning on seeing her again?

Oh, god, no. Well, never say never.

Can't have a Russian hooker every night.

I don't believe this. [sighs] What kind of a man are you?

Well, selfish, narcissistic, emotionally crippled by a cold and distant mother.

You know, the usual.

She's gonna be devastated.

Well, then you better break it to her gently.

I'm not gonna tell her.

Wow, that seems cruel. But your call.

What's going on?

That pig slept with my mother.

Welcome to the club.



Roscoe asleep?


What'd you do tonight?

What do you care?

Oh, come on. I'm sorry about this morning.

Really? So, you admit that Rudy and I are capable of having a meaningful relationship?

Well... I admit that I love you.

All right, what's going on?


Rudy's done with you.

Well, why are you telling me instead of him?

Because... he was emotionally crippled by his mother.

And, you know... he's a giant douche.

Wow, so I completely misread him.

I'm so sorry.

No, you warned me. I'm a big girl.

I should have known better.

Look at me, giving myself a pedicure so that jerk could suckle on a pretty red toe.

Is that his thing?

Oh, yeah, he's got a mouth like a Chinese finger trap.

My fault, I asked.

All right, I'm gonna take a quick shower.

Say hi to your "boyfriend."

I would, but after he saw you naked, we broke up.

Are you gonna be all right?

Oh, yeah.

Not gonna do anything crazy?

Oh, come on, go take a shower.



It's like she doesn't know me at all.

Yes, I want a medium meat lover's pizza with cheese in the crust.

Yes, and some crazy bread.

Hello, Rudolph.


How'd you get in my house?

Oh, please. Who sleeps with a man and doesn't steal his spare keys?

Okay. What do you want?

What I want is to hurt you.

But not physically, because... you might like that.

But on an emotional level, like you hurt me.

No, you are barking up the wrong tree, sister, because I stopped feeling years ago.

Really? We'll see.


"1957 Cháteau Latour." Ooh, sounds fancy.


Thank you.

And for my next trick, I will attempt to juggle three bottles of... ooh, Montrachet.

Oh, ooh, ooh.

Aw. I'm not very good.

[high-pitched groaning]

[high-pitched wail]

Okay, I lied. I didn't just get clean.



Oh, damn it!


And this Mouton Rothschild is for little Jimmy, who's sick in the hospital.

Please, no more.

And this Cháteau Montelena is for all the wine snobs and their nutty top notes.

[Boston accent] Enough! Stop!

I can't take it anymore.

Good. Come to me.

Oh, my god, you're magnificent.

Now what?



Oh, my god, I'm too late.

Rudy [Boston accent] Ah, ah, oh, yeah, Bonnie, right there, wicked hard!

Who the hell is that?


Oh, my god.

This duck pâté is so much better than corned beef.

Yeah, and the house won't smell like a thousand egg farts.

[phone ringing] Mm.


Oh, hi, Chef Rudy. Thanks for the picnic basket.

Yeah, I know it's not for me.

What's up?

Hang on, let me see if she's here.


She's not here. Can I take a message?

Oh, s-slow down, let me grab a pen.

Go ahead.

"The... the dark, violent turn our love play took last night haunts me""

Wait, say again?

"The wine cork will remain where it is as a sign of my commitment".

[loud pop]

All right, I'll be sure she gets the message.

Of course I won't tell anyone at the restaurant.


I think someone's sweet on you.