Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares quotes

What dish would you like to recommend for lunch?

Une lasagne aux pistaches. (A lasagna with pistachios.)

Yes, absolutely delicious, it's not on the menu at the moment.

Is this... is this normal?

Well, yes!

Welcome to the mad-house.

So we've got a pistachio nut, a walnut, and now a Brazilian nut! Classic...

[Talking about Daniel]: Almost 20 minutes later, he's still fiddling with the salads.

Tu dépêches même pas, quoi! Fais un p'tit peu plus vite, s'il te plaît, pour moi! Parce que sinon, les clients vont partir, et moi, je perde l'argent! (You're not even hurrying up. Try and be quicker for me, please! Otherwise, the customers will leave and I will lose money!)

Is this how he normally functions?

I would say so.

'Parce que vous êtes la. (It's because you are here.)

Donc, c'est de ma faute, alors? (So, it's my fault, then?)

Bien sûr! (Of course!)

Arrête tes conneries! (Stop your bullshit!)

[Upon seeing Daniel burning the potatoes] It's burning!

Non. Vous ne devrais pas essayer de m'aider. (No. You shouldn't try and help me.)

It's burning! Changez, changez! (Change it, change it!) It's burned!

Non, non, je ne le veux pas changer! (No, no, I don't want to change it!)

C'est brûlé! (It's burned!)

Je le sais, je le sais! (I know that!)

Rach [Rachel], the pan here's burning, I'm trying to change the pan for him, and he's just telling me, "Leave it there".

Il dit que ça brûle. La casserole brûle. (He says that it's burning. The pan is burning.)

Ça brûle, c'est normale! (It's burning. That's normal!)

Pourquoi c'est normale, pourquoi c'est normale? Explique-moi pourquoi c'est normale! (Why is it normal? Explain to me how it's normal!)

Daniel is clearly hard to handle, but Rachel is the boss.

You're alright?

Uh, no, I'm not alright. I'm really fucking pissed off. In three fucking hours he could've made a fucking dish for two, and he's fucking doing it on purpose. He should be fucking ashamed. I'm ashamed, I fucking...

This guy is killing your business. This guy is killing your business. This is so sad, you know that?

He needs to get his fucking act going, he needs to do something, because we're going to fucking fall out, big time. Anyway, I'm going inside to see what's going on.

I had lunch with Nigel. Sadly, very disappointing.

In which way?

I just found it old fashioned, very boring and when you say "modern British", where was the beef from?

Where's the beef from? It's not British.

The steak was cooked nicely. Pink, it didn't need all the gunk around there.

It was the shark that you came for?

It was watery and overcooked. Where do you actually buy it?

It was in the Indian Ocean, I believe.

And you buy it - (sees Paul and Pete laughing and hunched over) Guys, do you want to listen?

Yeah, we're listening.

Yeah, show some respect.

Or are you just going to stand there and piss your pants? I'm trying to have a chat, but it's very rude.

Sorry, Gordon. Pete, show some fucking respect.

Sorry, Gordon, carry on.

You can't stand up, or...? (Pete stands up straight) What I'm trying to get through is modern British. It's hard to identify anything that's modern British. So, I'm here to help.

Okay.

This man [Nigel] hasn't even understood that yet. I didn't enjoy my lunch. It doesn't need to be that fancy.

It's pretty evident.

And it is on the verge of being pretentious; too much style and insufficient flavour. (Interview) The Granary, it's an amazing location but everything about it is fucking wrong. The teenage asbos, they're so full of themselves, it's fucking embarrassing. The decor's flash and pretentious, and the food, well, it can't be any more further away from modern British. No wonder the fucking locals aren't coming.

We've never had a night like this before!

Why are you shouting?

Why have you done this to us!?

Why have I...what!?

Why did you do this to us? We've never had a night like this! Never, since we've opened!

Don't be so ridiculous, will you? Shit food; fucking red mullet, frozen from Thailand; the fact that we're not performing; the service is all over the place; the customers are fucking complaining...

90 people, without giving us any notice.

There's still 50 that haven't even been fucking served, so why are you blaming me for this?

You're a weak man.

Oh, fuck off, Gordon! I'm not a weak man.

Why don't you open your eyes, get your head out of your arse, and try to look at your business objectively? (Outside) They clearly can't cook the existing menu, they're struggling. There's nearly 60 customers still on the board. They've barely cooked 25 to 30 main courses. And, all of a sudden, I'm to blame because they're busy and they're not handling it.

When was the last time you trained a waitress?

I've got to look after my customers. This is nonsense. Right? I've told him what happens. I told him what fucking happens.

Talk to me!

Why? Because you don't listen! I'm in denial! I do this all the time. This is how I run my fucking restaurant! It's not true!

That's why you're in this shit, you fucking fat idiot!

No, it's not! Don't call me fat, you are a twat! Do you know that?

You stupid joke of an idiot! You're in denial!

You stupid fucking silly-looking cunt!

This is how you run your business?

You're a fucking knob! Fuck off!

Oh, you walk away now.

Go and talk to the customers! Go and talk to the fucking regulars out there! See if they've ever seen a service like this!

And what are they going to say to me?

Go and ask a regular!

That you're the best host in fucking Hampshire?

Probably, some of them.

Are you that fucking blind?

[sees Pete snickering] Okay, what's funny, Pete?

Nothing.

Go on, share the joke. Go on.

It's just...

You may be eighteen years of age, but you're still fucking old enough to get kicked out. Okay?

Yeah.

So fucking calm down, yeah? Show a little bit of fucking respect, yeah? And let your cooking do the talking.

(voiceover) Martin isn't directing his chefs. I've got to step in.

Come on, Paul, help him put them on the plate as well. Talk to me. When I tell you you've gone flat as a pancake, I really mean it. The customers are backing up, we're in the shit and...

There's too many hot starters, Gordon.

Oh, come on! Don't give me that limp excuse. There's a fishcake and mushrooms on toast. The soup's in the container.

But they've ordered eight of them.

Can you shut up a minute? Yes?

They're not ordering any...

You're not helping us, you're giving us all this!

Sorry?

You're not helping us!

Say that again?

Ah, fuck off!

Did you just tell me to fuck off? Is that the thanks I get? Listen, let me just tell you something to your face. I know you think it's cocky and smart and fucking hard.

No, it's not that.

Hey, I'm talking to Martin and you shout over me and you're saying, "Well, I'm all the way over here shouting". You've got a lot to learn. This is what happens when a kitchen's not committed. A chef who tells me that two hot starters is too much. One fish cake to reheat, mushrooms on toast, and the chippy little cunt in the corner shouting his mouth off. You'd think someone would show a little bit more balls than that, wouldn't you?

(narration) Let’s see what this ex-trucker can do. [At the entrance, reading the menu] An eating experience you must try. Steaks, local produce, chicken dishes, duck, lamb shanks. Oh, lovely. All food is freshly cooked. Fuck me. [Enters the restaurant] Hello.

Hello. Michelle. Pleasure to meet you.

Michelle, nice to see you. Your blouse matches the wallpaper. I feel like I'm tripping out. Never touched the stuff, but I feel like I've just swallowed an E. Holy crap. (Narration) Compared to the hideous wallpaper, the menu is very attractive. Simple, freshly cooked food. On paper, it looks delicious.

(In the kitchen) Orange squash, spoonful of gravy. Rich and meaty, it's called, yeah. A lot of them say it’s the best they've had. So it can’t be that bad, can it?

(Narration) First up: Mick’s house special, duck with orange sauce. (In the dining room) Yikes. Ooh-la-la.

There's your potatoes. I’ll just get the vegetables for you.

Jesus Christ. Fuck me, do I need sunglasses? What is that sauce?

That thing? Maybe it’s the orange squash he uses.

(Narration) Did she really say, "orange squash"? (Back in the dining room) It looks like someone has dropped a fucking lemon tart on my plate. [Samples the duck.]

It gives it colour.

[Spits the duck out] Fuck me. Worse than fucking Benylin.

Is it local lamb?

They're- the're actually vacuum packed ones. Uh, actually, they can last for about a year.

Just say that again?!

The- they're bought in, they're vacuum packed; the lamb shanks, and they've actually got a life shelf of about a year, and they don't have to be kept refrigerated.

Holy fuck.

Yeah...

So it's all about the duck?

Yeah, go on.

What the fuck did you put in that sauce? It's like some fucking sci-fi sperm!

[scowls] Sci-fi sperm!

Yeah, where's the orange juice? [Picks up a bottle of orange squash] So, it's an orange squash?

Yes.

A concentrate?

All the reports from the people were, "We love the sauce." And the lamb shanks.

You've got to be honest. I've never heard one complaint.

As a restauranteur, or whatever you want to call yourself, your responsibility is to provide them with at least something fresh. And especially for 11 fucking quid.

(appealing) Help.

Well, he's a stubborn fucker, this one.

I know he's a stubborn fucker.

You got that right.

I'd be the first to admit that. But we desperately, desperately need help from yourself. And I'm sorry, I'm going to be emotional.

I don't want you to get upset.

[Breaks into tears] I am! My husband's been slaving to death, and we work so hard for this business, and it's just killing us all!

What the fuck is that? Looks like a hair-dressing salon. Dreadful. Absolutely shocking! Spanish tapas bar? I mean, looks like a fucking lap-dancing hole.