Ratatouille

Although each of the world's countries

would like to dispute this fact,

we French know the truth:

The best food in the world

is made in France.

The best food in France

is made in Paris.

And the best food in Paris, some say,

is made by Chef Auguste Gusteau.

Gusteau's restaurant

is the toast of Paris,

booked five months in advance.

And his dazzling ascent

to the top of fine French cuisine

has made his competitors envious.

He is the youngest chef ever

to achieve a five-star rating.

Chef Gusteau's cookbook,

Anyone Can Cook!

climbed to the top of the bestseller list.

But not everyone

celebrates its success.

Amusing title, Anyone Can Cook!

What's even more amusing is that

Gusteau actually seems to believe it.

I, on the other hand,

take cooking seriously.

And, no, I don't think anyone can do it.

This is me.

I think it's apparent

I need to rethink my life a little bit.

What's my problem?

First of all, I'm a rat.

Which means life is hard.

And second, I have a highly developed

sense of taste and smell.

Flour, eggs, sugar, vanilla bean...

Oh! Small twist of lemon.

Whoa, you can smell all that?

You have a gift.

This is Emile, my brother.

He's easily impressed.

So you can smell ingredients?

So what?

This is my dad. He's never impressed.

He also happens to be

the leader of our clan.

So, what's wrong

with having highly developed senses?

- Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't eat that!

- What's going on here?

Turns out that funny smell

was rat poison.

Suddenly, Dad didn't think

my talent was useless.

I was feeling pretty good about my gift,

until Dad gave me a job.

Clean.

Clean.

That's right. Poison checker.

Cleanerific.

Cleanerino.

Close to godliness.

Which means clean.

You know, cleanliness is close to...

Never mind. Move on.

Well, it made my dad proud.

Now, don't you feel better, Remy?

You've helped a noble cause.

Noble? We're thieves, Dad.

And what we're stealing is,

let's face it, garbage.

It isn't stealing if no one wants it.

If no one wants it,

why are we stealing it?

Let's just say

we have different points of view.

This much I knew:

If you are what you eat,

then I only want to eat the good stuff.

But to my dad...

Food is fuel.

You get picky about what you put

in the tank, your engine is gonna die.

Now shut up and eat your garbage.

Look, if we're going to be thieves,

why not steal the good stuff

in the kitchen,

where nothing is poisoned?

First of all, we are not thieves.

Secondly, stay out of the kitchen

and away from the humans.

It's dangerous.

I know

I'm supposed to hate humans,

but there's something about them.

They don't just survive.

They discover, they create.

I mean,

just look at what they do with food.

How can I describe it?

Good food is like music you can taste,

color you can smell.

There is excellence all around you.

You need only be aware to stop

and savor it.

Oh, Gusteau was right.

Oh, mmm, yeah.

Oh, amazing.

Each flavor was totally unique.

But combine one flavor with another,

and something new was created.

So now I had a secret life.

The only one who knew about it

was Emile.

Hey, Emile. Emile.

I found a mushroom.

Come on, you're good at hiding food.

Help me find a good place to put this.

He doesn't understand me,

but I can be myself around him.

Why are you walking like that?

I don't want to constantly

have to wash my paws.

Did you ever think about how we walk

on the same paws

that we handle food with?

You ever think about

what we put into our mouths?

All the time.

When I eat, I don't want to taste

everywhere my paws have been.

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