Sara Horowitz quotes from Hell's Kitchen

Service, please.

Yay!!! [Heather tries to shush Sara] Sorry. Sorry.

What's going on?

Heather West

Nothing, chef. Nothing chef.

Who's shouting and screaming? Hey, Sara, let me just tell you something. You're not a fucking cheerleader so stop acting like one. Because we have nothing to fucking smile about. And listen, ladies, that has been one hour and forty minutes for four starters. And personally, I wouldn't laugh, or scream, or start wetting your knickers, because that is fucking embarrassing.

Heather West

Yes, chef.

(interview) Nobody deserved to be shouted at. I feel like a little worm on a big fucking hook right now!

Just take one good look at yourselves in the mirror, 'cause it's a fucking disgrace!

Missy.

Yes, chef.

Table has walked out. And the sad thing about it: you've given up so FUCKING easily because you don't give a SHIT! [kicks the bins] SHIT! (to the red team) Switch everything off, yeah?

Yes, chef.

Alright, well thank you.

Yeah, thanks for nothing.

Everyone, shut the kitchen down.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Rachel!

Yes, chef?

Come here, you. Come here. No, fuck it. All of you, come here right now. [pounds the counter] And eat. Eat that. Eat it. I'm, I'm, I'm--I'm dying to understand what's going through your FUCKING MIND! Now, what do you think of the quail?

It's overcooked. Little too much production on the sauce chef and you can see bones.

What's your verdict?

It's dry and tastes a little burned.

Yeah, it's shit! A little burned?! Fuck me! Do you need some glasses? (to Jean-Philippe) Ask one of the customers for his fucking glasses. There, table seven, he's got them (to Rachel) And what's in it for you?

It's overcooked.

Pssss...fuck off will you?

All right, let's do it again guys, come on. [Jean-Philippe returns with a pair of glasses]

There they are. There's the gentleman's glasses. I'm serious now! Does anyone need a pair of glasses? Fuck off, Jean-Philippe. Did you really think I was going to go out there with the quail, burned to a cinder? (Rachel doesn't answer) Did you really think I was going to send that? I need to know in your mind. Did you actually think I was going to serve that? (still no answer) Come here, you, come here. [leads Rachel into the pantry] What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to go home?

Ahem.

No, no, tell me now!

I will not let you down tonight.

You already have! I want to pull it back!

I will get you through entrées.

I know damn well you can do it. I can see it in your eyes. I can identify with the hunger but right now, missy, there's just a blonde empty fucking head.

I won't let you down.

Get it together, communicate, open up and start talking to me. Now move!

Yes, chef.

So this place is renowned for its steaks.

Now the red team has moved onto entrées at another Hollywood hot spot.

Nice and private, very nice.

And Virginia has an important question for the owner...

What's the one key thing that you can honestly say? I'm saying like right when you think of it. What can you tell me here right now? I'm saying like...

...if only she could ask it.

...What have you learned now that you didn't know then when you opened up a place?

You need consistency. That's it. Consistency.

I just find it very, I love the fact that you grew so quickly. I mean that's so...

(interview) We were like "Shut up! Shut up!" At what point is Virginia not fake?

...so on and so forth. But, you know anyway...

(interview) "Blah. blah. blah. Yadda. Yadda." Virginia, she annoys me.

The red team has moved on to entrées and Sara has brought her lamb...

What's that?

...to the slaughter.

What the fuck is that? Missy (Sara), Just what are you doing with the lamb?

I'm learning, chef.

You're learning?

Yes, chef.

What do you mean you're learning?

Sara! What is going on? Are you... fucking blind?

No, chef.

What is that? In your-- What are-- I don't know what the fuck you're doing!

Me neither, chef.

That is not going anywhere, missy!

Okay.

Except in the fucking bin!!

Where is the lamb?

It's working, chef.

I'm about to send the third table of entrées from the blue team and I still haven't got the lamb out from the red team!

Yes, chef.

Now it's turning into a fucking big embarrassment!!!

Yes, chef!

And I'm gonna kick you out any minute now, unless you get me a fucking lamb!!!

Yes, chef!

Sara! Come here, missy!

Yes, chef?

I don't know if you're colour-blind or you've got a problem with your fucking contact lenses, that is blood. Look, it's blood! They want it medium, it's still fucking rare! [pounds the counter]

Yes, chef!

There's blood everywhere! We still haven't sent an entrée from the red team.

Yes, chef.

(to Jean-Philippe at the pass) Take the lamb off the menu. Stop it! I don't give a flying FUCK! (to Sara) You! Don't DARE cook any more lamb: Jean-Philippe has taken so much flak on the back of your inconsistency!

Hmm.

If you're going to grill a salmon Sara, you don't tie it and fucking stuff it together. That is the third dish from the red team that is totally impractical. Can we just cut the salmon into a slice without fucking around?

Yeah. Consistency?

Don't fucking dare! Don't fucking dare!! Missy, missy, come here you fat mouthed little stupid bitch!

Yes, chef?

You're pissing around with something that's not working! Has that fucking clicked?

Yes, chef.

IT'S FUCKING RARE!! Just stop! [calls the blue team who have just completed their service] Blue team, come here! All of you! I'm so fucking determined to have a successful completed service. I've got 11 tables waiting for main courses from the red team! You (the blue team) get on the sections and work together!

Thank you, chef.

I personally don't want to stick around for pretty more shit. [exits the kitchen in disgust] A fucking embarrassment.

Away now, one risotto, three Salad Saint-Jacques, let’s go.

Yes chef!

They only need turning Sara otherwise they become overcooked yeah.

Yes chef!

Are they overcooked?

Yes chef, they are!

Oh come on!

Heather West

You've got to watch your scallops.

Thank you, Heather. I've got it.

Missy.

Yes, chef?

If you sauté scallops in a non-stick pan, they won't stick! That's why it's called FUCKING NON-STIIIIICK! [Gordon's voice goes falsetto on "STICK"] I don't know what non-stick means in Texas, sweetheart, but FUCK ME!

Yes, chef!

(to Sara) Missy, how many scallops are you serving per portion?

Five each.

Are they small, big or massive?

They're medium.

They're medium? Missy, [in a fast tone; gives her a towel] clean your fucking glasses, I'll ask you quickly, yeah? Yeah, let's do it this way. CLEAN YOUR FUCKING GLASSES!!

Alright, chef. [wipes her glasses]

Let's go, three salmon, one turbot.

Heather?

Heather West

What?

Is there any salmon left in the house?

What's going on? What's going on?

Chef, I--

What? Come here you! Tell me! I'm the fucking chef!!

Yes, chef. I don't have enough salmon to get through the night.

You're not serious, are you?

I am serious chef.

Hey, I'd fuck off and go and buy some if I were you.

May I substitute using turbot?

Why don't you check with the maître d'? Can we serve turbot in place of the salmon?

On which table?

Table 20. Please? Thank you. (to Sara) Hey, you, fuck off, will you? You useless cow.

Turbot's in here. Sorry chef.

You know missy, you're finished aren't you?

No, chef, come on!

Hey, what do you mean come on? I want you to come on! I want you to wake up!

Chef, I told you and they're resolving it now and all I can do is give you the turbot. I have the salmon in the fridge and there's only 2!

That's right! And whose fucking fault was it?! Don't get fucking upset with me in my fucking kitchen when you're standing there sulking because you fucked the salmon!

I'm not sulking chef.

Yeah, you're finished. Heather, get on the fish please and do something for her yeah?

No, chef.

So wake up and get it back together!

I don't need to be replaced chef!

Then tell her then.

I don't need to be replaced.

There you go.

(interview) I screwed up one fucking table with one fucking salmon. I wasn't beat. Don't get up all about my crotch about shit.

Virginia, you won the challenge. I guaranteed you a place in the final three. If you want to go, that is your choice. If you decide to stay, I'll send Sara home.

I understand what you're telling me that I want to be in the final three because I deserve to be in the final three, not because you're a man of your word. Not because of a friggin challenge. I want to be there because I deserve to be.

I can't help you anymore. This is entirely your decision.

Can I ask a question chef?

Shut the fuck up for 30 seconds.