Aftertaste

I'm re-creating a Michelin-star menu from my first restaurant.

La Moulineux was on that menu.

$870 a single.

- You can't live in a shed. - Oh!

But it's all right for a dining room, is it?

You only get those once you've created

a world-class, Michelin-level dessert,

by this evening.

- But what is the truth? - Your mother packed up and left!

You should come to the opening.

I wouldn't miss it.

Dude, we totally just popped our cherries.

This is my dessert.

Is this some kind of a joke?

If you really want to take it to the next level,

you need to start listening to me, got it?

- Easton, what are... - Shh!

Okay. Go!

- Just look out for the farmer! - Ooh!

Why can't we just buy milk at the servo?

It's, like, a buck a litre and...

... nowhere near as much shit on the floor.

It's opening night. We need the freshest milk we can source.

This dessert is all about terroir.

Ter-wha?

Terroir. It's French. It means the taste of the soil,

the land the produce is grown on.

Right. That sounds... unhygienic.

What exactly is this dessert?

Crème brûlée?

I told you, it was on the menu when I won my first Michelin star.

- You don't think it needs... - No.

I thought we established you would follow my lead.

Just make 20 more as perfect as that one

and I will be very happy.

Well, as long as you're happy.

That's the 11th person I've turned away for tonight.

We should have set up more tables.

The harder it is to get in, the more buzz we get.

Then we add the tables and raise the prices.

Just leave the business to me

and you keep answering the telephones.

We need a proper maître d'.

We just stole $2 worth of milk from a cow.

We can't afford a proper maître d'.

How'd you get Zhao's guy, then?

I give him my body for whatever demented pleasures he so desires.

80 minutes at 86 degrees.

- Don't take your eyes off it. - Oui, Chef.

I want you all to taste La Moulineux merlot.

You need to understand

how it's going to bring the whole menu together.

Crème brûlée?

And I thought you said we were going to be the next Noma.

Yes, we will.

He's just going for a more classical, refined thing

and once we're established, I'll be able to bring in my own stuff.

It's good. He's... He knows what he's doing.

What is that smell?

You don't smell that?

- Ironic. - What?

You walked through that bullshit to make this bullshit.

Hey, maybe it'll pair with his bullshit French wine.

What. The. Actual... Fuuuuuck?!

Last time we had a legit meeting with Margot, you just left me there.

Now you want me to come and taste her wines,

even though I know nothing about wine.

- Makes no sense. - You learn on the job.

I got where I did working under great chefs.

I was under a great chef last week,

but we definitely weren't working!

You said, and I quote,

"Margot Duplass is an hysterical witch

whose natural wines taste like hangover piss."

Well, don't mention that when you ask for the loan.

What loan?

Your alcoholic grandfather stole and drank my only case of merlot.

The only cash we have is in the ashtray of that ute

and we're on the only vineyard owned by someone we sort of know.

Do the maths.

Diana would love to apologise for missing our meeting the other day.

Oh, she's got nothing to apologise for.

I'll be back. Gotta take this call.

Press. All over me.

Don't know how he's making calls.

We have zero reception up here.

Come. Taste.

Oh, no. I... I actually know nothing about wine.

Uh, the last stuff I had was straight out of a goon bag

and it... did not end well.

Ah, our industry is full of wankers.

They want you to think you know nothing

so they can flog their over-processed,

over-marketed garbage.

And I'm the crazy one, because I want to make wines naturally.

What do you taste?

I... I don't know. Grapes.

What about at the back?

Blackcurrant note, maybe?

Actually, yeah. Now that you've said it, I can... I can taste that.

Wine should tell a story about the place that it's made

and the people that make it.

- That's what gives it its meaning. - Yeah.

I've... I've actually started doing that with my latest dishes.

Oh! I tasted your moonshine cake!

- Oh! - It was fantastic.

Yeah? Thank you. Actually, he didn't tell me that.

Of course he didn't.

What... actually... happened the last time he came up here?

I had him for lunch.

That's fruity.

Is, um... is it plums?

See? Very good!

You've got an excellent palate.

You should trust it.

Actually...

Easton sort of brought me here to ask you something.

- Oh, did he, now? - Yeah.

It's... a little embarrassing.

Adelaide Hills pinot.

Soft and plummy with a good tannic structure.

You can pay me tonight if you make any money.

That won't be a problem. We're fully booked.

Margot's kindly accepted our invitation for dinner.

Oh, really? Great.

Well, it's the least we could do to make up for Diana's no-show.

Thanks for the wine.

Well, it's no over-priced merlot,

but hopefully this hysterical witch's brew

will be more than a match for your culinary genius.

See you both tonight.

I like her.

I'm sorry for calling you a cockwomble.

What is that word?

I don't know. I heard it once and I thought it sounded funny.

All right.

Hey, I got you a VIP table.

- Diana! - Really?

You should see what we've done with the place, Mum.

- It looks freaking amazing. - Diana!

- I've gotta go. I'll see you tonight. - Okay.

- How's the mix? - Yeah, almost ready, Chef.

Okay. Let's stay focused.

We'll get onto the scallop entree next.

Christ almighty!

What the hell's he doing?

Maybe he's feeling a bit left out.

Go grab that gun off him.

Chef. Chef!

You said you knew how to use a sous vide, you idiot!

I do! I set it to 86 degrees, like you said.

It's the dodgy machine you got off Gumtree.

All my venison is fucking fucked!

I'll go to the butcher's. They're still open.

We had to order it. We bought all they had.

Why don't we just get Pop to get us a roo?

I mean, you can cook it on the fire pit.

It'll be more like the restaurant I imagined anyway.

- It'll be totes terroir. - This is fine dining,

not a shitty sausage sizzle!

This menu won me a Michelin star!

Have you ever won a star?

- No. - Have you ever won anything?

CWA's Best Cake at the Uraidla Fair last year.

Exactly, so just keep your shit ideas to yourself

and just do what you're told like a good little girl.

Fuck!

The supplier's in Hahndorf, Vasiliadi's Venison.

I doubt they sell directly from the farm, though.

Okay. Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?

Okay. While I'm gone, you take over the mise en place.

You, fix the sous vide machine

or find a work-around and you, just...

... pull your finger out of your arse

and stop looking so fucking miserable!

I'm not putting up with him.

Arni, most geniuses act like wankers, okay?

Mozart... wanker. Steve Jobs... wanker.

The Dalai Lama? Probably a total wanker!

Um, seriously?

- What's gotten into you lately? - What do you mean?

Your priorities are warped.

You abandon me and our business,

talk me into working here for free,

then try and justify this guy treating us both like absolute crap?

Are you kidding? This is our big break!

He's using us as cheap labour!

You're basically his apprentice.

We were selling cakes in a car park

before I set all this up.

We are literally on the verge of everything that we've dreamed about.

Maybe, but I don't want to do it like this and not with him.

Bitch, do not abandon me right now.

Bitch, stop being his bitch.

After all I've done for you?

I literally carried Hot Buns for years,

'cause trust me, babe,

no-one was coming for your shitty sago pudding pots, okay?

I've let you follow me around and copy me since year 7

and now you're just gonna leave me at my hour of need?