Fresh Off the Boat

Jessica, our son is valedictorian of Harvard.

Crazy.

Louis, pipe down.

I gave you one rule for today, remember?

Don't talk in a wicked Boston accent

to order lobster chowder?

Okay, fine. Two rules.

And it's not crazy he's up there.

He's always shown signs of greatness.

Breakfast is served, suckas.

Boom. A literal food pyramid made from all 10 food groups.

Frozen fish sticks form the base,

so give her a sec to thaw before diving in.

- 10 food groups? - Why is it moving?

I still can't believe you got a 1500 on your SAT.

I still can't believe you haven't told Mom yet.

Boys, think.

I'm a high-school junior who doesn't listen well.

- Fair. - Cautiously following.

I'll tell Mom my score

when I really need a get-out-of-jail-free card,

like, for example, I'm in jail.

- Yeah. - Eddie, clean up the mess

- you made in the kitchen. - I got a 1500 on my SATs.

- What?! - Wow.

Eddie, I can't believe it!

I did it.

You really got a 1500 on the SAT?

Yep. A 750 on the verbal and...

whatever's left in math.

Amazing. I'm so proud of you.

Thank you.

See, Louis?

Me pushing Eddie all these years is finally paying off.

Top-tier colleges are back in play.

The football teams get worse,

but the starting salaries skyrocket.

You did fill in the oval

letting schools get your test scores, right?

I filled in every oval I saw... you know, better my chances.

1500, ladies and germs.

1-5-0-0.

Well, I better clean my pyramid mess.

No, no, no. You stay.

You deserve to rest.

I'll do the dishes. What the heck.

Maybe I'll even reconnect the dishwasher.

Was that a hug?

I've never seen your mother this happy.

That includes our wedding day,

but definitely not our wedding night.

We went for it.

Gross.

I don't trust this.

It's like when a stranger offers you candy to get in their van.

I mean, you take it... free candy...

but it never ends well.

Please tell me you've never gotten in

a stranger's van before.

Eddie, your mom doesn't get to experience pure joy often.

She refuses to watch "Police Academy",

doesn't "get dogs", calls Weird Al a hack.

Let her have this.

Eddie, forget the kitchen.

We're going out to celebrate!

Cele-what? Girl, I got school.

Not today. School can wait.

Dibs on the first dishwasher load.

Man, I look like "Boyz n the Hood" Ice Cube,

Asian-boy edition.

Dope.

Mother and oval-filling son.

This stays here.

I don't want your Ivy League roommates

drooling over your mother's flawless skin.

I don't know about the Ivy League.

I do! That 1500 changed the game.

We need to update your life-chart.

Evan has dibs on president,

but we can Kennedy this thing,

and you could be his attorney general.

Emery can be the drunk with the square head.

Oh, no.

Mom wrote "A Case of a Knife to The Brain 2: The Second Knife"?

I'm penning my memoir.

I want to get my life story down

before things get intense in high school.

It'll be way less intense if you keep that to yourself.

I can't be America's first Doctor-President

without publishing a memoir.

I even mocked up a cover.

I'll update the photo when I'm old enough to run,

maybe grow some stubble for the ladies...

crucial demo.

Cool.

I've outlined my next chapter...

"Evan Huang, HOA Vice President".

How do you think this guy went out?

Big-game hunter,

or stepped in front of the wrong logging truck?

Pushing that much girth around the woods?

Heart disease all day.

Hey!

Mom lifted her bumper-sticker ban.

She wants you to put this on the Cattleman's delivery car.

Great.

That's what you want on your bumper during rush hour.

Very rear-end-able.

You have a minute to talk?

Boss Talk or Dad Talk?

Dad Talk.

Okay.

It's me, Dad. What's up?

So, I've been thinking a lot about college

ever since our UCLA trip.

- Great trip. - Great trip,

but I don't think I want a regular school.

I want to go to culinary school.

Culinary school?

- Like for cooking. - I know what it means... sorta.

This is big, Eddie.

I know you're working at the restaurant with me,

but I didn't realize you were that passionate about this.

I didn't either, until it dawned on me

the thing I always get excited about is food...

... creating it, cooking it, eating it.

I love food, Dad!

I love food, too, son.

I love food, too.

You're following in my footsteps.

Uh, my restaurant footsteps,

not my Cha Cha King of Taipei footsteps.

Ain't nobody following those.

Well, I'm glad you're open to culinary school.

Ma won't be.

Yeah.

No way she had this on my life-chart.

Hey, why don't you make her a meal,

show her your stuff,

and then we can talk about culinary school together?

Yeah, that'd be sick!

"Evan Huang for HOA Vice President:

One Deidre Heartbeat Away".

You said you worked as a mall elf

to "help my needy brothers"?

I worked as a mall elf to help you!

Uh, time out.

You read my memoir?

Please tell me you wore the document gloves sitting next to it.

You stole my story. You lied!

I'm just giving readers what they want... a hero.

Who cares about the details?

I do.

You can't be president if you lie.

It's un-American.

Calling the first Asian President un-American?

Pretty racist.

This is amazing.

Your mom will have to consider culinary school.

Each dish is inspired by her...

Anti-Hobo Stew, Chicken a la Stephen King,

Aw Hell Gnocchi.

I was out at the mailbox,

and I saw Deidre in the window.

Dummy took 20 minutes to notice my sweatshirt.

- What's all this? - Oh, I made dinner for you.

Why?

Oh, you put a baby in that redhead, didn't you?

- Jessica! - Whoa!

No.

I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for me.

Aww!

You got a 1500 and you cook.

You are going to make some woman I choose a great husband.

So, Mom, I was hoping we could talk.

Sure.

What did you want to...

Eddie got a letter from Harvard.

I'll open it so you don't cut your test fingers.

Okay with you? Great!

Aah!

"Dear Edwyn Huang,

we received your SAT scores

and want to schedule an interview

with one of our alumni"?

Ah!

Harvard wants to send an alum here to my house

to interview Eddie, my son.

No chance they send Bill Gates, right?

Because I still can't get the printer to do landscape.

I got to get moving. I got to call Connie to gloat.

I got to redecorate the house to Ivy League standards,

polish the fine china.

Fun fact... that's my bowling nickname.

Dad, I want to go to culinary school.

Do I really have to do this interview?

It'd just be a waste of time.

Not for your mom.

Ho, ho, ho!

Not a "yo mama" joke. Sorry.