Aftertaste

I'm literally getting showered with praise

and you still have no faith in me.

What if you turn 40 and this... baking thing hasn't paid off?

I am trying to tell a story,

which is something that nobody in this family seems to understand.

Don't be gone so long next time.

I had a vision and I get it now.

What Mum leaving did to you, to all of us.

Denise being so protective of Diana.

I know you're both angry with me and you have every right to be.

I don't think you can change.

Dad?

Welcome to Jim's.

To start, you will be enjoying your appetisers

the way my old Pops used to fine-dine,

TV-dinner style.

Rissoles with sauce, classic mash,

a cured meat sausage ciggie

and wash it down with a glass of Jim's home brew.

Then you will experience a West-style family cook-out.

You'll be treated to friggin' delicious

red-peppercorn-crusted kanga-brew kebabs

from our very own Chef West.

Next,

tripping on mushrooms in a warrigal-green forest,

drunk rainbow trout in Duplass chardy,

wabbit stew, personal thing,

and then, the real reason you're here,

but... don't tell my uncle,

dessert.

First, Pop My Cherry Ripe,

followed by my new creation, Six Feet Under.

You crack open your isomalt ball and...

- voilà! - Whoa!

My dead grandparents.

Now, um, in the words of Jim West...

... fuck off and get out of my house, you wankers!

Bravo. Bravo.

So, what did you think?

Your niece is quite the talent.

Yeah. I know.

She's a West.

And she speaks quite highly of you.

I guess she's been working with a different Easton

to the one I managed for all those years.

Your dad seemed like a character.

They're just ashes, right?

Viv, if you're here to lure me back to Shanghai,

or Dubai or Brunei or the... fuckin' palace of Versailles,

I'm not interested.

I never picked you for someone who'd be happy to get outshone.

- ... yeah, all this paperwork. - Easton has done all this...

Actually, Easton, the reason I'm here is that I'm...

Who was that?

Congratulations. They're shutting you down.

- Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. - They're what?

- Fucking... - No permits. No liquor licence.

No wheelchair access.

Human bodies buried outside a commercial dining area.

Mum's grave is empty!

You are the culinary equivalent to a meth lab!

- No, no, no! - Oi!

- Do not... No, seriously. - Hey!

- Do not... - Come back here, you gutless git!

Come back here!

God! Oh!

Yeah, you run to Mummy! Go on!

Go on! Oh!

Ooh!

Yeah!

Why do we even need a wheelchair ramp?

It's four fucking steps! I'll carry them in.

I can't believe I trusted you with this shit.

I've listened to you! I've supported your wacky ideas!

- Wacky? - Which have mostly been pretty good.

I haven't stopped you from doing anything.

Corpses, genitals, anything you want.

It's a partnership, no?

All this for nothing.

I promise you, I will find out who dobbed us in and betrayed us.

You did! You betrayed us!

No-one is out to get you!

From publicity comes scrutiny.

- Are you a moron? - Yes.

You made the mess, Easton,

and once again, we have to clean it up.

I'll do the paperwork.

You get the tools we need to fix the place.

You aren't doing anything!

Yeah, I know since Dad died, you've become self-appointed manager,

but we are fine on our own.

Hey, I offered to look at your books

and you went, "Oh, no, no, no, no need."

So look at us now!

I just can't believe we have to exhume Pop's ashes.

And Nan's whole body.

Well, it's either that or we move the entire restaurant.

Yeah, well, that's the... the least of our worries.

The only reason that I agreed to do this with you

was to honour Pop's memory.

You said that you had changed!

I'm learning on the job, right?

You think when I was cooking for Noel Gallagher,

I was executive chairman of council applications?

No! I had people doing that shit.

Okay. Then we're asking Viv for help.

Viv? Viv, no. She can't do this.

Well, she managed to keep your dying career going,

until you threw the final pig straw.

Yeah and plus, she's connected

and if we're gonna keep a restaurant alive, we need money.

No! Ow, fuck!

- I think I've... pulled my groin. - Good!

All you have to do is just sit there and smile,

like a good little boy.

Sit where?

The thing is, critically, we're killing it.

Like, we are the talk of the culinary world.

I'm not surprised.

What you've created is truly special.

Yeah. We've also been shut down,

- have no money and are fucked. - Jesus Christ!

So we were sort of hoping that you maybe...

have an interest in backing Jim's.

It's more as a favour to you, really.

I mean, I know things didn't end well between us,

but, uh, this is a good business opportunity.

But we'll be fine, regardless.

Easton, why do you think I'm here?

Let me see.

You waited till I was back on top until you showed up,

so I'm assuming it's because you want something from me.

You're right. I do.

The 25% of your earnings that you still legally owe me.

Seems you're not quite as "on top" as I thought, though, so...

I guess I'll just have to keep on waiting.

Why, you unscrupulous little leech.

With you, it's always take, take, take.

Fuck!

Get some decent chopsticks, moron!

Chef West! Oh, a little trouble with the sticks, huh?

I can get you a fork and a knife, yeah?

Hey. I heard about you guys getting shut down.

- If there's anything I can do to help... - Fuck off, Ben.

So, how's it all working out for you, then?

I was genuinely impressed with Jim's, you know.

- It was surprising. - Yeah.

The, um... the part where the council guy came and shut us down?

That was, uh... it was definitely surprising.

Look, I just hate to see your talents get wasted.

The time is right for you.

A female pastry chef with edge and an attitude.

You should come to London.

I could put you in a top kitchen,

uh, even get backing for your own store if you like...

Wait, wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Are you being serious?

Well, I'd like to think that this trip

wasn't a complete waste of my time.

Sorry to interrupt. Uh, I hope you still have room.

Uh, there's always room in my mouth for you, Chef.

Viv, this is my lover, Kwame.

Kwame, Viv.

- Nice to meet you. - Hello.

And these are hot-cross bao buns.

On the house.

They're amazing.

We're a culinary power couple.

Well, maybe the power couple can take over London.

- Uh... - Where you belong.

Mmm...

Easton got to go off and live his life.

Now it's your turn.

Trust me.

I'm saving you from a sinking ship, Diana.

You'll never get it out.

Nan's special sauce got that umami stank, bruh!

Here.

Hey, I was being serious before.

About wanting to help out.

I want to turn Uraidla into a shit-hot culinary destination.

I can give you the capital for a 50% stake.

You use the cash to get up to spec, we both win.

It was you, wasn't it?

Dob us in, shut us down, buy us out.

Classic corporate take-over move.

- Fuck! - Okay.

I hate to break your heart,

but I am not constantly dreaming of ways

to fuck over Easton West, 24/7.

You do such a fucking great job of that yourself.

I dig Jim's.

Diana's a talent. You're... you, but I can get over that.

Look, I know you can chef,

but can you do the actual grunt-work needed to run a business?

It's tough work, man, and you're no spring chicken.

Look, if you want to get back up and running any time soon,

I'm your best bet.

Yeah, it really suits you.

Hey, can I get a pic?