Estomago (2007) Movie Script
It's Gor-gon-zola!
This cheese was named after
an Italian city...
You know, Italy, that country
right by the United States.
It's one of the
word's oldest cheeses.
This thing was created more than
a thousand years ago.
A very clever woman looked at that
thing with green snots...
took a bite and said: "this cheese
is so freaking good!"
freaking good!
Lemme tell you
how it all started.
A cowboy was coming back home
after spending the day...
on the back of his horse,
herding his cattle.
Of course he had to bring bread
and milk home.
Even on those days, women
expected their man to do so.
So off he goes "clop, clop"...
with a leather bag full of milk
on his back.
He gets home,
jumps off his horse...
drops his bag on the porch
and takes the horse to the barn.
At that point, he goes in,
closes the door...
and forgets the damn bag outside.
Go figure, overnight the milk curds.
On the next day, his wife sees
the bag outside and gets mad.
She thinks: "that shit is staying
there unless he takes it inside!
Unbelievable! He saw it there and
didn't do a thing about it."
When he comes home at night, he
realizes she hadn't taken it in.
That pisses him off,
but he thinks: "fuck it!".
Another day goes by, the thing is
under the sun again...
Just figure how nasty it looked.
Women back then were less
stubborn than nowadays.
Seeing that her husband wouldn't
lift a finger and do something...
she threw it away,
because back then...
you could drop trash anywhere,
but on your porch.
So she goes to bury it.
You know, women are nosy as hell.
She finds out that the milk
had turned into cheese.
Hey, Rosemary!
That gorgonzola
might be super-duper, bro.
Do whatever you wanna do with it.
But you bet your sweet ass
that junk won't stay here!
"A Gastronomic Story"
At first, Raimundo Nonato was a saint.
"Saint Raymond Nonnatus".
His mother died when he was about
to pop out.
The doctors back then were
much better than nowadays.
The doc rushed to slice her womb,
after all, she was already dead.
So he pulled the baby out alive!
After such miracle,
a new tradition was created.
Anyone born under hard labor
is named after him.
That's what happened to me.
Raimundo Nonato. That's me.
What do you want?
Water, please.
Anything else?
Two fried chicken snacks, please.
Hey you, I am closing up.
OK, sorry.
Sorry.
--Didn't you forget anything?
--What?
--That's three bucks.
--I got no money, sir.
I see!
I was starving.
Right...
So now, what?
No pay, no game.
I ain't here to feed bums.
Is there anything I can do, sir?
I've got some dirty dishes in the
kitchen. Will you clean them?
--Now?
--Yeah.
Deal.
Let's go. I'll show you the kitchen.
Move, kiddo!
--What a stinking kitchen!
--Excuse me?
Never mind.
It'd take me all night
and you're leaving, right?
I live upstairs.
I'll leave now
and I'll do it tomorrow.
Don't you worry.
After you clean it up,
you can crash in the backroom.
--May I?
--Certainly.
Thing is... just cleaning won't do.
For room and board,
you must also mope the floor.
Fine. OK, sir.
Hey, I'm watching you. If I hear
a peep, I'll come downstairs.
What's your name?
Raimundo Nonato at your service.
Zulmiro.
Don't worry, Mr. Zulmiro.
Raimundo Nonato was a long time ago.
In the clink, you need another name.
Raimundo Nonato won't work here.
I need a prison name.
No Alex, Peter, Phil, Junior
or any of those boy scout names.
Criminal names are... Trigger,
Three Fingers, Holy Hand...
Nonato, the cook.
No, after the shit I've done,
it's gotta be a badass name.
Nonato...
pocketknife.
Nonato Pocketknife.
Nonato Pocketknife!
That's me!
Special room for Your Majesty.
Get in, move!
Hey butt-white... your shoes!
Your shoes, man! Didn't your mum
teach you manners, you dumb fuck?
Not in here...
Hey, busboy!
I'm coming.
You slept well, huh?
You did a good job here.
--Do you cook?
--I try to...
--Can you make "pastel snack"?
--No, sir.
Wanna learn?
Pour some "cachaca" in the dough.
That's for the dough, not for you.
Squeeze it harder, dude!
Are you scared of the dough?
Squeeze it. It's like a woman's
ass. Squeeze it!
Squeeze it like a woman's ass!
There you go!
Now add some flour.
Good...
Not bad.
You can help me in the kitchen,
if you want to.
--For real?
--Yes.
--And sleep in the back room.
--Cool.
What's my wage?
I didn't get you. What wage?
You come here from the country
then ask for a wage...
benefits and all that crap?
No, it's just that...
Yesterday I ate and cleaned,
so we're even, right? Now...
if I cook today, we gotta
talk about my wage and all.
What do you think?
That's not how it works in the city.
You came all fucked up from
the country with shitted pants...
No, the backroom smells bad.
--You're smelly.
--It got into my clothes.
Shut up!
How dare you?
Who's talking here?
Me! I have a roof over my head!
And who is listening?
You scumbag that don't have
a place to drop dead.
Here's the deal: I give you room
and board. That's all.
If you want it, fine.
Otherwise, get out.
Mr. Zulmiro...
I'll stay.
Great.
What's your name again?
Raimundo Nonato
So Nonato, start frying it,
gotta wait on the patrons.
Clean the backroom.
Nonato, are the fried chicken
snacks ready?
Not yet.
The "pastel snacks" are.
Take them.
Hurry, fuck, the customers are
impatient already!
In a jiffy, Mr. Zulmiro...
Hey, Dino!
Dino!
Come on!
Are you asleep?
Go see those customers!
--Long time no see.
--I'm fully booked.
Shitty-ass summer!
It's freezing up my muff.
Are those chicken snacks fresh?
I made them today.
Pass me one.
Give me one, dude.
Damn...
It's so fucking good!
--Did you make it yourself?
--Yes, madam.
Check him out, calling me madam.
Pleasure, Iria.
Raimundo Nonato.
I don't remember seeing you
around here.
I've been working here
for about a month or so.
This bar looks different.
All we used to see here was
flies and boozers.
Now we see flies, boozers
and fried chicken snacks.
Give me another one.
Fuck!
Got any tabasco?
If I knew how to cook like this,
my life would be different.
--You don't cook, ma'am?
--A little. Eggs, toast, tea...
--No one would marry you.
--So what?
I can't cook,
but I love eating.
The other day I saw that TV show
with the blonde and the parrot...
--The green parrot?
--That one!
Damn, she was making some pasta...
My kinda food.
With capers, tomatoes, anchovies...
just the good stuff.
--Anchovies?
--Anchovies. Fancy shit.
--Don't you have them here?
--No, ma'am.
Tell your boss to cook
that pasta here.
--Go ahead, say it.
--I can't.
My friends would be regular here.
It's called pasta puttanesca.
Holy shit, "puta" what?
"Puta" your ass.
It's "puttanesca".
It's Italian, not Spanish.
Italian is fucking posh!
PUTTANESCA!
Nonato, enough talking.
Go fry some more chicken snacks.
Yes, sir.
Excuse me, gotta go back to work.
I'm frying some snacks...
Gonna bring you two more, OK?
What's that noise?
Who's there?
Is it you, Nonato?
Mr. Zulmiro!
--Nonato, is it you?
--It's me, Mr. Zulmiro!
What the fuck are you up to?
Nothing... I just dropped
something by accident.
Are you nuts?
Go inside, Iria...
Go back to bed, you moron!
--It's fish, right?
--No, fish is on Friday.
Food! Food!
I'm starving, man.
More, more...
Give us more, man.
We're eight in here.
--Go wash your hands.
--That'll feed Bujiu only...
--Check out the meat.
--Meat again?
--That sucks.
--Hurry up, man!
I'm fucking starving.
If you don't like it, go to a hotel.
I'm playing the waiter here...
Kitchens are the same anywhere.
Today, we have chopped meat.
Yesterday we had stew,
the day before... steak.
They're good at recycling meat
three days in a row.
I know these kitchen tricks.
Fish should be on Fridays.
It's when you get them fresh
from the market.
It should be, because we never
get fish here.
But worms... they're regulars.
We get them everyday.
Holy cow! This food sucks.
Do you want me to get the waiter,
so you can bitch about it?
Not the waiter, dude.
They could bring back that guy
that went to... Piraquara.
Do you remember him?
That crook with bad hair
that cooked for us?
He kicked the bucket.
He was a motherfucker.
True, but he was an awesome cook.
Some rosemary and black pepper
would give it a nice touch.
What are you mumbling there?
What did you say?
If it had rosemary and black
pepper, it would taste decent.
--Did you hear that?
--Do you cook, butt-white?
Yes. I used to be a cook.
Come here.
Come here, damn it!
Say, if we'd get you that fucking
black pepper, would you cook?
Sure.
But I'd need an oven.
The other guy had one.
--Where is it?
--It's safe. I got it.
Good job.
What's for tomorrow?
--What are we having tomorrow?
--It doesn't matter.
Just get me some garlic, pepper,
onion, cooking oil...
grated cheese, rosemary...
I can make something out of it.
No kidding!
--Hey, Lino!
--Shoot.
Talk to the kitchen guys.
Tell them to arrange that stuff...
that rose something.
Not rose... it's rosemary.
Right... rosemary!
Get that shit for... what's
your name again, redneck?
Nonato Pocketknife.
Lino...
Get that rosemary for Nonato,
tomorrow I'm in for a good meal.
Hey you... Wait Up!
You go back to cleaning.
And you cook.
I should explain about
power struggle in this cell.
Those two talking are
Wait Up and Bigmouth.
Bigmouth is a pickpocket.
He is a loser and always
talks too much.
Things turned out pretty bad
for Wait Up since he got in jail.
That quiet one in the corner...
his name says it all... Kidnap.
He doesn't talk to anyone.
So we'd better leave him alone.
Skinny was a grandma's boy.
He was a "mule".
I ain't swearing him.
He used to carry drugs
in his stomach.
He's done it so many times that
his stomach is messed up now.
He keeps taking those anti-acids...
he buys them off Lino.
That one over there.
Lino is our errand boy.
He gets us some stuff.
And charges everything,
of course.
That one constantly in a bad mood
is Big Walt.
He's a scapegoat.
When shit hits the fan, he raises
his finger and says: "I did it."
That big black guy owns our cell,
he's the big boss around here.
He does things that even
the meanest people wouldn't do.
His name is Bujiu.
He has a cell phone,
gets female visitors...
not just of his own women.
He knows how to make people do
whatever he wants.
That's why we're so few
in this cell...
whereas the other cells confines
thirty guys.
Bujiu... sleeps on the top bunk bed.
But here at the bar,
my fried chicken snack rocks.
Some doctors say fried food is
bad, clogs your veins...
What are they: doctors
or plumbers?
Ask Mr. Giovanni
if fried food is bad.
He knows everything about cooking.
Seems that first they invented
food and then, they wondered...
"so now what? What the fuck?"
Then they created Mr. Giovanni
to guide us.
Check him out... Mr. Giovanni.
He deserved the top bunk bed...
and even a night lamp
for his crosswords.
Hey, you! Come here, please.
Are you the cook?
Yes, sir.
Interesting, I own a restaurant
around here, the Boccaccio...
--Bocatio?
--Boccaccio!
International Cuisine,
friendly atmosphere.
I know everyone here.
Every single person.
But I have never seen you
around here.
I've just arrived in town.
--Did you learn to cook in the jungle?
--I'm not from the jungle.
I knew how to cook,
but the fried chicken snacks...
I learned from Mr. Zulmiro.
Wanna talk to him?
No. Leave Zulmiro alone.
If he taught you,
it means you got talent.
Because his chicken snacks sucks
real bad.
This one is good.
It made me hungry.
What else do you have there,
other than... fried food?
--Hard-boiled eggs.
--Forget it. I'll eat at home.
There's some leftover stew
from lunch. Do you want some?
--Stew, you said?
--Yes, with some tasty potatoes.
--Let me have it then.
--Just a sec.
JAIL UPRISING. INMATES CLAIM FOR
QUALITY FOOD RATION.
Here you go.
Thank you.
Did you like it?
Tell me something, did you put
some rosemary in it?
Yep. It goes well with meat.
Mr. Zulmiro didn't notice it.
--That's shank, right?
--Yes.
I had to pound it very hard
to make it soften a little bit.
You should work with an expert.
Someone who masters culinary art.
Do you want to work for me?
I don't know... I'm OK here.
Mister Zulmiro pays well,
plus benefits...
Benefits?
A benefit is to tell Zulmiro
to fuck off.
Hey, Rosemary man...
what's for today?
Excuse me.
Chicken stew...
but I'm working on it,
so it tastes better.
We got no prawns.
Fuck it.
It's damn good.
Hey Rosemary guy, is that
for today or what?
It's ready, Big Walt. Chicken and
coconut rice.
--Folks, lunch is ready!
--Sweet!
Coconut chicken!
Nonato... This is a real kitchen.
Hi Giovanni, we're out of
mascarpone cheese.
--Where can we get some more?
--We'll see that later, Francesco.
I'm taking care of Nonato now.
He's our new assistant.
Francesco is the first chef.
When I'm away, he's the boss,
got it?
--Here's where I keep the wine.
--The bottles are laying down.
Of course. I'm a wine expert.
You're lucky to work for someone
who's a wine expert.
First lesson: did you notice
how far the oven is from here?
The wine has to be stored
at a cool temperature...
like fresh mountain climate. Do you
have mountains up in the jungle?
No, sir.
You're screwed then, because it
gets cold here. Get ready for it!
Why do we lay the bottles down?
To store the most you can.
No, it keeps the corks dry. When
you pull it, it won't fall apart.
They're mostly Italian wines.
I used to sell them cheaper.
Now we can sell them for 40 bucks...
--without scaring the customer.
--Forty reais?
You think it's pricey?
Some guys come here to screw a
girl, so they drink some wine...
get her dizzy and score.
Forty bucks for a gettin laid,
plus dinner...
Look.
Check out this wine.
It's a Sassicaia.
It's one of the best wines ever!
--Sassicaia, right?
--They call it "Super Tuscan".
Very limited production.
It's made from Cabernet Sauvignon
and other French grapes.
It's much better than
most French wines.
--The French, right Mr. Giovanni?
--Those people that love orgies.
I got that one from my father.
May God rest his soul.
--God be praised!
--Amen...
I'm saving it for my sixtieth
birthday.
--60th, Mr. Giovanni?
--Yep.
--How many years left?
--Six. I'm 54.
Won't it go out of gas?
Sassicaia... gas?
Go fuck yourself, Nonato!
Thank God you'll be back here,
away from the customers.
--Lino...
--What?
Come here.
Shoot.
--Hey, Rosemary.
--Sir!
Bottom bunk is yours now.
Skinny's bed is yours now.
Get your stuff.
Move, dude.
It's all ours, redneck.
--Water is boiling, right?
--Yes.
OK, come here, Nonato.
Grab some salt.
That sea salt, right...
add a handful of it.
Add some more.
That's OK.
Don't you dare add some oil,
that's for cheap pasta.
Hand me the spaghetti.
Great.
OK, first we mix...
then we wait...
Till it's ready.
When do we know it's ready,
Mr. Giovanni?
It takes practice.
You need cooking experience.
Cooking is an art!
It's like painting, singing...
One must know how to mix the
ingredients.
You gotta know when this is gonna
go well with that.
You gotta know the exact cooking
time, so it won't lose its taste.
Cooking is an art, Nonato.
Here is our studio, the kitchen
and the spices and
the ingredients are our paints.
--Paints?
--Fuck, what was I saying?
Yeah, cooking time.
Since you don't have experience,
you gotta taste it.
--Can I fry the garlic?
--Not yet.
If you fry the garlic too soon,
it'll turn brown and bitter.
I've had a hard time with garlic many
times. It seems easy, but it's not.
That's why I start frying it
just before the pasta is done.
The easier, the harder.
It's easy to mess it up, right,
Mr. Giovanni?
Everyone thinks it's easy,
but they're wrong.
Simple recipes are like...
like a Picasso painting.
Picasso?
Simple, but intense.
Do you wanna see art
with the most basic ingredients?
--Yes
--Francesco...
--What?
--Your turn.
--Your turn!
--Prick!
Nonato, bring me the guava
that's in the fridge.
Yes, sir.
No, the other door.
There you go!
Get me that cheese too.
--That one over there.
--This one?
Yep.
Mr. Giovanni, it's rotten...
and moldy.
It's not bad. It's a gorgonzola.
--Gor...?
--...gonzola.
Gorgonzola.
One of the word's oldest
cheeses. It's moldy.
--Try it.
--There's no need.
Come on, try it! It's good!
It tastes like spoiled butter.
--Your ass tastes like spoiled butter.
--Come on, Mr. Giovanni!
Do you know the "Romeo and
Juliet" dessert?
It's very popular in my town.
You replace white cheese
with gorgonzola.
It's called Anita and Garibaldi.
I made it up myself.
--Anita and Garibaldi?
--Yep.
It's good.
You know what?
I can't serve Romeo and Juliet
in my restaurant...
'cause it's an ordinary dessert.
If I add gorgonzola instead,
it gets sophisticated.
Then I can charge 8 bucks for it!
Some gorgonzola and guava for
Holy Shit!
How much paint do you spend on
a painting? A hundred bucks?
And later on, they sell it
for millions of dollars? So...
The same goes for cooking.
This is art, Nonato.
--It's a Picasso!
--Lemme ask you something.
--May I?
--Shoot.
We gotta add the paint
just before serving it, right?
Cross the damn ball, man!
Kick it forward! Fuck!
Get out of there!
Here!
Go to the goal line, you moron!
They play so bad!
--Rosemary!
--Hi. Did you find it?
Check if it's what you wanted.
--Perfect. Fantastic!
--Fifteen packs of cigarettes.
--What?
--Fifteen fucking packs!
Fifteen packs?
Don't screw with me.
You're screwing with me.
It was hard to get it.
I don't know if I've got it.
--Really? Give it back to me.
--Ten?
--Give it back.
--Ten?
Give it back, you prick!
Twelve?
Twelve it is. Deal.
It's a bit expensive...
Come by my cell later.
Twelve and don't fuck with me,
all right?
No problem. Chill out.
Whatever...
And then, we're the crooks!
INTERNATIONAL CUISINE
FRIENDLY ATMOSPHERE
--Good night, Mr. Giovanni.
--Good night. Go to bed!
Gonna take a walk...
Go get some rest.
We've gotta work tomorrow. Go!
--Bye.
--Bye.
Out! This is my spot. Leave!
I got here first.
You better leave.
This is my spot, slut.
Did you get your stockings
at the thrift shop?
If you don't move now,
I'll kill you!
It's the fried chicken snack guy...
--How are you doing?
--Fine. I'm hanging in there...
--There... up in her ass!
--You slut!
I came by the bar the other day...
but you weren't there.
--You don't work anymore?
--No, I'm working somewhere else.
At nearby restaurant...
At the Bocatio Restaurant.
Ah. The Bocassio.
I know. Over there.
Friendly Cuisine.
The fried chicken snacks
from the bar are crappy again.
I didn't know about it, but...
Mr. Zulmiro is not a very good
cook, you know.
I agree.
Where are you staying now?
I'm staying at an Inn
by the restaurant.
Good.
And...
Do you have a bite to eat
at your place?
I got no real food,
but we could order a pizza.
So naive!
Lets go.
I'll feed you there.
--You're hungry?
--Yes, and you?
You smell so good, Iria!
It's talcum powder.
--I like it.
--Thanks.
Shall we stop by the restaurant first?
--I'm starving.
--At the Bocatio?
Yes, at the Bocassio!
OK, I've got the keys
to the kitchen.
So you're the boss now!
--It was delicious.
--Really?
--No, stop it, Nonato.
--What?
I don't French kiss anyone.
Never.
--No?
--No!
--You can't?
--I can't.
I can't,
because it's not ethical.
--Ethical?
--Ethics...
I don't kiss anyone. I do
everything else, but kissing.
--Everything?
--Everything!
Fuck!
An ant got into my nose!
Fuck!
You get used to it.
If they go into your mouth,
just swallow them.
I won't get used to it.
This place is like an anthill.
When I used to go to Colombia...
--You've heard of Colombia, right?
--Of course, sucker.
Do you know what they eat there?
Guess what they eat...
Ants.
Like the ones we see here.
When I went there for coke,
I ate some.
--Fuck, that's terrible.
--No, they're not that bad.
They sell them on the streets.
Some ants are this huge.
You eat them fried.
They taste good.
Skinny...
Lino...
You know what?
I had a great idea.
We could take these damn ants...
fry them with some garlic,
onion and parsley.
They'd make a delicious snack
before dinner.
Lino, you shouldn't be picky
about food.
I don't know.
It's what the rich eat.
High protein food, man.
I bet they won't like it.
Have I ever let you down before?
Help me gather them. Come on!
We'll gather them.
I'm positive about it.
Bujiu will love
our Colombian banquet.
You fucking Fat rat!
Will you bring us the stuff or what?
Watch out, you dumb ass!
You talk to Skull face.
I'm warning you!
--Guys!
--What's up?
Fat rat is fucking around again.
Fat Rat, quit the crap.
You better behave.
Watch out, bro,
I'll cut your balls!
Fuck off!
This shit is good.
What is it?
Guess.
Guessing game is a queer thing.
Just fucking tell me.
Fried ants.
--You're kidding me.
--It's fucking delicious!
Stick it up your ass, redneck!
Go fuck yourself!
Who do you think I am?
You're feeding me with ants!
Son of a bitch,
fucking jungled cock sucker.
--Stop it!
--Stop, my ass!
Fuck you, man! Are you insane?
Great idea, my ass...
Stick it up your ass,
motherfucker.
Get out of my way, fuck!
Unbelievable! Fried ants!
Go feed your mom
with your fucking fried ants!
Skinny ate it in Colombia.
Big Walt thought you'd like it.
Stop fucking around, Rosemary!
What the fuck you saying?
I cover Bujiu's ass,
but not yours.
I ain't your doormat.
Go fuck yourself!
I said I had them in Colombia,
but I never told ya to make them.
Cook me some man's food, damn it!
Watch it!
I'm getting lucky, I know it!
Guys I'm a smart ass.
Go! Go!
Hey, Rosemary!
Come drink some Maria!
"Crazy Maria", fuck!
What's up redneck?
Are you insane?
This shit is so fucking strong!
If he can't handle Maria,
he won't be able to handle Joe!
That's "Crazy Maria",
a "cachaca" we make in jail.
That's for tough guys.
Bujiu, if you add a drop of
"angostura"...
it'll taste better, like Negroni.
We've got enough niggas here.
No, it's negroni... a fancy drink.
Mix it with some angostura,
that's also fancy.
That drink's gonna kick ass!
Really? Lets get that stuff,
so that shit tastes better.
Write it down, Lino.
How is it called?
"Angostura".
--What?
--An... gostura.
An... gostura.
An... An... An... Cards.
--Listen, you gotta get this shit.
--Lets play!
This is the City Farmer's Market.
It's where it all begins.
Gastronomy starts right here.
It's where we begin to cook.
For a farewell dinner,
a wedding party...
Smell it, Nonato.
It smells like meat, fish, fruit,
grains... all mixed up.
Culinary art is about finding
the best ingredients.
You can't have someone do it for you.
The cook has to come over here.
A real good chef must come here
in person.
He must know all the vendors,
their sons...
He must look at them and see if
they're telling the truth.
I don't have to do it anymore.
I've been coming here for ages!
Everyone knows me and respect me.
They know I won't buy their stuff
again if it's shitty...
and I badmouth them.
But the contrary is true.
If I like their product,
I always buy from the same place.
How are you doing,
Mr. Giovanni?
What's up, Toninho?
That's Toninho, a real crook!
Let's go to the butcher shop.
Now you'll see some blood.
Holy Mary...
--Good morning, Ze!
--Hey Giovanni, how are you?
Nonato is my new assistant
at the restaurant.
--Is he learning?
--I'm teaching him, we'll see.
I'm gonna show him some things
in the back.
Be my guest.
--Good morning!
--Good morning!
This is the supreme art.
The art of cutting beef.
You look at it and think:
"it's all meat".
True. But take a look, Nonato.
This is flank steak. Good meat.
But down here, what do we have?
Sirloin.
Flank steak for 8 bucks per kilo.
Four fingers down...
the sirloin for 1 5 bucks per kilo.
You see, Nonato? It's art!
A quick look tells you that this
is good stuff and this is not.
It's like checking out
a skinny woman.
Under her dress,
you find a bombshell.
To cut meat...
you gotta look at it
with a clinical eye.
This cut for example.
Come check it out.
This one here. This is
filet mignon, the best cut.
It's just like a woman's ass.
Filet mignon is the best cut.
Filet is the cow's ass, right?
And in the ass is more expensive...
No, I said filet mignon...
correlates to a woman's ass.
It's the best.
--Don't you like a woman's tush?
--Sure do!
Hey there!
I work here on Thursdays.
--It's nice here, Iria.
--Yeah, do you like it?
--Buy me a drink.
--What?
--Buy me a drink, will you?
--OK.
Hi, Edson. Is everything OK?
Give me the usual.
What do you wanna drink?
I don't handle alcoholic too well.
Nothing? Get something.
Quit being stingy.
--What?
--Shush!
Edson, make him a fancy drink.
Egg liqueur for Iria...
and a Negroni for Iria's customer.
I'm not her customer.
I'm a friend.
Her friend...
Beautiful!
Stay put. I gotta get ready
for my show up there.
Stay put. Stop grabbing me.
--What's that?
--Angostura
--Angostura?
--It's sour, but good.
Damn it's strong!
Like nail polish remover!
I don't know, I don't drink.
I'll drink it up.
Damn!
Pour me another one.
How long have you been working here?
Angostura...
Another one...
Hurry up, come on...
That's good...
Son of a bitch!
Go mess with someone else!
I know him, let him go!
--Son of a bitch!
--Let him go!
--What happened?
--Calm down.
--Where am I?
--Calm down.
It's all right...
Iria?
--What am I doing here?
--Hold on.
--Is this your room?
--Yes, it is.
--What happened?
--Drink some water...
You don't remember, right?
You made a scene
at the dancing club.
You broke a bottle. ..
You wanted to kill everyone.
The bouncers kicked you out.
They beat the shit out of you.
Honestly you deserved it.
--Did you take care of me?
--No.
No, your aunt came from the jungle
just to take care of you.
--Are you all right?
--I'm a mess.
Well...
Gotta go.
I must work.
--Fuck, Mr. Giovanni!
--It's all set.
I ran into him. I told him...
you wouldn't go to work
for some days.
--Didn't he get mad?
--He laughed.
He said: that jungleman had no brains.
Same old story.
You know him as much as I do.
Iria...
Thanks.
No worries.
Gotta go.
These days, I am the most
respected guy in the slammer.
I really can't complain now.
Middle bunk bed...
You're moving up, Nonato!
When you sleep on the low bed,
you already feel important.
The minute you get the middle
one, you realize it was crap.
It's an illusion that the low bed
is better than the floor.
The floor levels with shoes
and socks. It stinks bad.
But the low bed is not much
better.
There's no feet on your face,
but the view is way worse.
Holy cow!
I could take the top bunk bed.
But I can't, it's Bujiu's.
I can't complain. I'm doing fine.
Everyone has been eating well...
I got lots of compliments.
They lick their plates clean
and love the food.
This is so damn good!
Awesome!
To die for!
--So fucking delicious!
--So good!
--Yummy!
--Mouth-watering!
A trip!
I heard them say
"better than pussy!"
Almost!
I'm gonna write down
a dictionary.
Human beings are weak.
They get used to comfy stuff.
They soften like a shank
in a beef "bourguignon".
By the way,
I gotta get some herbs.
I'm gonna have the guard get me
some thyme, still got rosemary...
fresh parsley. Better yet, I'll
get parsley and spring onions.
And sage.
--How are you doing?
--Fine.
She's my girlfriend.
--Hi.
--All good?
Let's get some fish for later.
This cheese is bad. It's rotten.
Check it out, it's all moldy.
It's not rotten.
It's supposed to be like that.
It's called gorgonzola.
It's 1 300 years old!
This is why it smells so bad!
It's for tough guys.
If you need a bad-ass cheese,
get a gorgonzola.
There's another kind, created by
the French that like orgies.
It's called Roquefort, not as
strong as gorgonzola though.
You wouldn't believe it.
There are a thousand ways to eat
gorgonzola, dude.
As a salad, sandwich,
pasta, pizza...
Hey, Rosemary!
That gorgonzola might be
super-duper or whatever, man.
Do whatever you wanna do with it.
You can make pasta, pizza
or stick it up your ass...
Do whatever the fuck you want.
But you bet your jungled ass
that junk won't stay here!
That stinky ass gorgonzola
won't pollute the air I breathe.
Out of my way!
Keep it outside, with the shoes
and socks.
I've told you already!
Take that damn thing outside!
Nonato... someone is here
to see you.
It's Iria.
Hi Iria! I could smell
your scent in the air!
--You've got a good nose!
--You smell good.
You two behave.
--Have you eaten?
--No.
--Are you hungry?
--Yes, I was born hungry!
My little hungry girl...
I'll cook you some spaghetti.
What do you say?
Yummy.
Just give me a minute.
You're crazy.
Iria...
I need to talk to you!
OK.
I've been thinking about it
for days now.
Spit it out.
Would you marry me?
Did you choke?
Spit it out.
There you go.
I'll get you some water!
God heavens!
Drink it!
Drink it down!
Drink it down, Iria.
There. Drink some more.
Go ahead.
--Felling better?
--Damn!
--I'm fine, thank you.
--Are you sure?
I'm fine!
Holy cow!
The garlic, damn it!
I burned the garlic. Shit!
It stuck on the pan! Fuck!
I screwed up the pasta.
So Bujiu...
big boss is coming over.
--For real?
--They've confirmed it.
Rosemary!
Come here!
Watch out.
Sit down.
Pay attention.
We're talking fed now.
Someone's coming to join us...
His name is Etcetera.
Do you have an idea of who he is?
Never heard.
Etcetera is the big boss.
The boss of bosses.
We need to welcome him
appropriately.
You know what I'm saying?
You dig, Rosemary?
I didn't, but now I do.
So beware, man.
I want to keep it cool with him,
make a good impression.
I want you to cook something
special for Sunday, you know?
--Make us something yummy, dude.
--Next Sunday?
Yes. I want good quality food
and drinks.
No problem! Count on me.
It's for next Sunday.
To celebrate Etcetera's arrival,
we'll get you the main kitchen...
With all gadgets,
so you can rock! You got it?
The main kitchen will cost us a lot!
I don't care.
It's for Etcetera, dude.
It's for a long term investment!
Good evening, Mr. Zulmiro.
Good evening my ass,
you motherfucker!
Chill, Mr. Zulmiro.
You're a motherfucker.
You left me here all alone.
Hey, Nonato... I welcomed you here.
It's just that Mr. Giovanni
made me a better offer.
Salary and benefits... those stuff.
--It's business.
--Yeah right. Business...
What do you want here?
--Looking for an offer?
--No...
I wanna talk about something
very important.
Fuck... I'd better sit down.
Sit.
Shoot.
Mister Giovanni's restaurant
is closed on Mondays.
So I asked him to let me make
a special dinner there.
What are you up to?
Big orgies for sure!
No... I'm gonna get
engaged to Iria.
Iria?
Iria? That Iria?
Now people marry in brothels?
--What's a brothel?
--A whorehouse!
It's not that.
I love her and I want to
marry her.
She doesn't want to rush things,
because she's not pregnant.
So we're gonna get engaged first.
You're gonna marry Iria, Nonato.
What's the point?
Well, it's your cock,
your money.
--You know what you're doing.
--I want you to be my best man.
As my guest of honor,
you know.
Would you accept it?
Not on this Monday,
on the following one.
--Would you accept it?
--Yes.
Thank you, Mr. Zulmiro.
Mr. Zulmiro...
you still can't make good fried
chicken snacks. Good Christ!
Motherfucker!
Excuse me, boss. Mr. Etcetera...
I want to start this banquet
with this wine here.
It's a beauty, delicious...
and it's from Italy.
It's written right here: Italy.
You see? Italy!
Yes, it's the country of that
fucking Paolo Rossi...
who screwed us up in the
This wine is called Chianti,
like the grape.
You can't just take any grape
from the market.
They don't make good wine.
To make wine, you gotta smash
the grapes real good.
Let them ferment, then you put
the must into "cachaca" barrels.
Now you take out only the must,
not the "cachaca".
That's why wine is all about
flavors.
It's stored in a barrel
for a year and a half...
with its scent kept inside,
so when we open the bottle...
we smell flowers.
we smell grapes...
we smell forest, wood
and even animals...
Yes, it smells like animals.
Some wine even smells like
wet dog.
Like wet dog?
You invite me over to drink
something...
--that smells like wet dog?
--Of course not. Rosemary is joking.
Are you nuts, man?
Throw that shit in the toilet.
Bring us some beers.
--Got beer?
--Beer?
We don't have beer, Bujiu.
Bring us Crazy Maria then,
goddammit!
I'm gonna bring you Crazy Maria
right away.
Wet dog, my ass!
He's a schmuck, but he's a good
cook. You won't regret.
--Crazy Maria, Angostura.
--Give him credit. Trust me.
Let's have Maria!
The carpaccio!
You know that having a good cook
in prison is important.
Hey folks, this is "carpaccio".
Fancy food.
It's good... but it's raw.
He's right!
Rosemary, this shit is raw, dude.
It needs more cooking, no?
Big Walt, fry it more.
I want it well done.
No, Bujiu.
It's supposed to be raw.
Raw meat, my ass.
This must make you sick.
--Take it, Big Walt.
--Big Walt!
Are fucking with me, Rosemary?
Big Walt, go fry it.
First, wet dogs, then carcass.
What's next?
I'll eat his bones
if he keeps screwing up.
Give him more credit.
He's good at cooking.
Want some more Crazy Maria?
Who told you to turn up
the flame?
Turn it down, damn it!
Come on!
The potatoes are fucking hard!
Fuck, the broccolis are
overcooked!
Can't anyone do it right?
We're helping you out here.
Are you nuts?
Keep it down, dude.
My ass is on the line.
If I get screwed,
you'll go with me.
Do it right, man.
You too. Do it right!
--I'm trying, man.
--Try harder.
Fuck! Fish and meat
in the same oven!
Motherfuckers! They should have
baked it separately!
What the hell!
Whatever!
Skinny! Come give me a hand.
Hurry up!
There, there.
Good evening.
Hey! Where are you going?
--Is Iria here?
--Iria?
No, she's left.
Not long ago.
She smelled good... as usual.
--Thank you.
--Anyone else?
--Goodnight.
--Goodnight.
--Hi!
--Hi.
Have you seen Iria?
--Where's Iria, Soraya?
--She hasn't arrived here yet.
--She's not here.
--Damn.
But you are...
Wanna taste something
different today?
--Nope.
--Come on!
--I've eaten already.
--Have you?
Shouldn't you be
at the restaurant?
Cutting onions and garlic,
working hard?
Today is Monday
and the restaurant is closed.
Really? Take your chance then.
You shouldn't miss opportunity.
Didn't I tell you that
his cooking is amazing?
It's good or what?
It's getting better.
I'm your fan, dude.
That's a cool tattoo.
I've got one too.
It's pretty, colorful.
Where did you get it done?
Here in town.
This star is for talent.
The other one is for my mum.
This crazy bird means courage.
Every kitchen worker has
a tattoo.
From the chef to the assistant.
It means respect.
I've also got this one.
I made it myself in prison
with ink and a pair of compasses.
--What about those three crosses?
--These are the 3 cops I killed.
Swallow it!
Give it to me, damn it!
There you go!
Move! Move! Move!
Move, 'cos the guy's enjoying it.
Go Big Walt!
You move like a turtle!
Come on! Hold it!
--Here's the pork!
--Yummy!
The knife!
--Come on, where to start?
--Here.
--I'm full.
--You'll be fine.
Cheers!
The cops came out of nowhere
shooting on everyone.
How so?
I don't know. Someone must have
snitched on us.
Don't you ever stop?
Slow down, man.
You eat too much!
You're gonna get sick.
Isn't delicious?
Isn't it special?
Yes, it's very special.
He's good at it.
Rosemary, you're the man.
Hey Rosemary, don't you have
some beans to go with it?
Sure thing, boss. I made them
just for you.
--I knew you'd want some.
--Go get it.
I told you he was
an awesome cook.
You trained him well.
He knows I gotta eat my beans,
otherwise I don't feel full.
--You don't?
--Nope.
Good boy!
Your Majesty.
Hey Rosemary, why do you bring
one dish at a time, man?
Why don't you bring them all
and sit your ass down?
Because you can't mix it all
in one plate.
You must savor the flavors.
One at a time.
You must taste each ingredient,
everything...
Why? It'll all end up
in my stomach, right?
They'll get mixed up once inside.
But you don't eat shit just
because food turns into shit.
Does anyone eat shit here?
I never did, but..
I made a loser eat some.
That's so gross! I'm eating here!
--Shut up!
--Wait!
Did he say it was good?
Or what did it taste like?
He didn't say it was good,
but it gave him a bad breath.
He'd got some shitty breath.
I don't get doctors at all,
you know.
You got fever,
your stomach is messed up...
and they say: it's a virus.
If you got a soar throat,
it's a virus.
If you have a dry cough
and red eyes: it's a virus!
They spend 200 years studying
the dead and healthy people...
and every disease is caused by
a virus?
It's fine with me.
The docs saw Bujiu fat, bluish
and bloated...
I thought they'd say
it was a virus.
But no... "Indigestion".
That's what they said.
So apparently you can die
from it.
I thought he died from the poison
I put into his beans.
What can we do? One dies,
others take his bed.
Who's gonna have the guts
to mess with me now?
Etcetera says: "Make me
some meat, Rosemary.
What's on the menu today,
Rosemary?"
No one will mess with me.
I wonder how Etcetera's
bed is like.
Word is he has a cell
for himself.
For himself...
Maybe I'll make him some fancy
food like pasta "puttanesca".
He's gonna like the name.
I could ask the guard to get me
that Italian wine... Sassicaia.
Tomorrow I'll have him
look for it.
I'll ask for a woman too.
It's been nearly a year
that I haven't got one...
This cheese was named after
an Italian city...
You know, Italy, that country
right by the United States.
It's one of the
word's oldest cheeses.
This thing was created more than
a thousand years ago.
A very clever woman looked at that
thing with green snots...
took a bite and said: "this cheese
is so freaking good!"
freaking good!
Lemme tell you
how it all started.
A cowboy was coming back home
after spending the day...
on the back of his horse,
herding his cattle.
Of course he had to bring bread
and milk home.
Even on those days, women
expected their man to do so.
So off he goes "clop, clop"...
with a leather bag full of milk
on his back.
He gets home,
jumps off his horse...
drops his bag on the porch
and takes the horse to the barn.
At that point, he goes in,
closes the door...
and forgets the damn bag outside.
Go figure, overnight the milk curds.
On the next day, his wife sees
the bag outside and gets mad.
She thinks: "that shit is staying
there unless he takes it inside!
Unbelievable! He saw it there and
didn't do a thing about it."
When he comes home at night, he
realizes she hadn't taken it in.
That pisses him off,
but he thinks: "fuck it!".
Another day goes by, the thing is
under the sun again...
Just figure how nasty it looked.
Women back then were less
stubborn than nowadays.
Seeing that her husband wouldn't
lift a finger and do something...
she threw it away,
because back then...
you could drop trash anywhere,
but on your porch.
So she goes to bury it.
You know, women are nosy as hell.
She finds out that the milk
had turned into cheese.
Hey, Rosemary!
That gorgonzola
might be super-duper, bro.
Do whatever you wanna do with it.
But you bet your sweet ass
that junk won't stay here!
"A Gastronomic Story"
At first, Raimundo Nonato was a saint.
"Saint Raymond Nonnatus".
His mother died when he was about
to pop out.
The doctors back then were
much better than nowadays.
The doc rushed to slice her womb,
after all, she was already dead.
So he pulled the baby out alive!
After such miracle,
a new tradition was created.
Anyone born under hard labor
is named after him.
That's what happened to me.
Raimundo Nonato. That's me.
What do you want?
Water, please.
Anything else?
Two fried chicken snacks, please.
Hey you, I am closing up.
OK, sorry.
Sorry.
--Didn't you forget anything?
--What?
--That's three bucks.
--I got no money, sir.
I see!
I was starving.
Right...
So now, what?
No pay, no game.
I ain't here to feed bums.
Is there anything I can do, sir?
I've got some dirty dishes in the
kitchen. Will you clean them?
--Now?
--Yeah.
Deal.
Let's go. I'll show you the kitchen.
Move, kiddo!
--What a stinking kitchen!
--Excuse me?
Never mind.
It'd take me all night
and you're leaving, right?
I live upstairs.
I'll leave now
and I'll do it tomorrow.
Don't you worry.
After you clean it up,
you can crash in the backroom.
--May I?
--Certainly.
Thing is... just cleaning won't do.
For room and board,
you must also mope the floor.
Fine. OK, sir.
Hey, I'm watching you. If I hear
a peep, I'll come downstairs.
What's your name?
Raimundo Nonato at your service.
Zulmiro.
Don't worry, Mr. Zulmiro.
Raimundo Nonato was a long time ago.
In the clink, you need another name.
Raimundo Nonato won't work here.
I need a prison name.
No Alex, Peter, Phil, Junior
or any of those boy scout names.
Criminal names are... Trigger,
Three Fingers, Holy Hand...
Nonato, the cook.
No, after the shit I've done,
it's gotta be a badass name.
Nonato...
pocketknife.
Nonato Pocketknife.
Nonato Pocketknife!
That's me!
Special room for Your Majesty.
Get in, move!
Hey butt-white... your shoes!
Your shoes, man! Didn't your mum
teach you manners, you dumb fuck?
Not in here...
Hey, busboy!
I'm coming.
You slept well, huh?
You did a good job here.
--Do you cook?
--I try to...
--Can you make "pastel snack"?
--No, sir.
Wanna learn?
Pour some "cachaca" in the dough.
That's for the dough, not for you.
Squeeze it harder, dude!
Are you scared of the dough?
Squeeze it. It's like a woman's
ass. Squeeze it!
Squeeze it like a woman's ass!
There you go!
Now add some flour.
Good...
Not bad.
You can help me in the kitchen,
if you want to.
--For real?
--Yes.
--And sleep in the back room.
--Cool.
What's my wage?
I didn't get you. What wage?
You come here from the country
then ask for a wage...
benefits and all that crap?
No, it's just that...
Yesterday I ate and cleaned,
so we're even, right? Now...
if I cook today, we gotta
talk about my wage and all.
What do you think?
That's not how it works in the city.
You came all fucked up from
the country with shitted pants...
No, the backroom smells bad.
--You're smelly.
--It got into my clothes.
Shut up!
How dare you?
Who's talking here?
Me! I have a roof over my head!
And who is listening?
You scumbag that don't have
a place to drop dead.
Here's the deal: I give you room
and board. That's all.
If you want it, fine.
Otherwise, get out.
Mr. Zulmiro...
I'll stay.
Great.
What's your name again?
Raimundo Nonato
So Nonato, start frying it,
gotta wait on the patrons.
Clean the backroom.
Nonato, are the fried chicken
snacks ready?
Not yet.
The "pastel snacks" are.
Take them.
Hurry, fuck, the customers are
impatient already!
In a jiffy, Mr. Zulmiro...
Hey, Dino!
Dino!
Come on!
Are you asleep?
Go see those customers!
--Long time no see.
--I'm fully booked.
Shitty-ass summer!
It's freezing up my muff.
Are those chicken snacks fresh?
I made them today.
Pass me one.
Give me one, dude.
Damn...
It's so fucking good!
--Did you make it yourself?
--Yes, madam.
Check him out, calling me madam.
Pleasure, Iria.
Raimundo Nonato.
I don't remember seeing you
around here.
I've been working here
for about a month or so.
This bar looks different.
All we used to see here was
flies and boozers.
Now we see flies, boozers
and fried chicken snacks.
Give me another one.
Fuck!
Got any tabasco?
If I knew how to cook like this,
my life would be different.
--You don't cook, ma'am?
--A little. Eggs, toast, tea...
--No one would marry you.
--So what?
I can't cook,
but I love eating.
The other day I saw that TV show
with the blonde and the parrot...
--The green parrot?
--That one!
Damn, she was making some pasta...
My kinda food.
With capers, tomatoes, anchovies...
just the good stuff.
--Anchovies?
--Anchovies. Fancy shit.
--Don't you have them here?
--No, ma'am.
Tell your boss to cook
that pasta here.
--Go ahead, say it.
--I can't.
My friends would be regular here.
It's called pasta puttanesca.
Holy shit, "puta" what?
"Puta" your ass.
It's "puttanesca".
It's Italian, not Spanish.
Italian is fucking posh!
PUTTANESCA!
Nonato, enough talking.
Go fry some more chicken snacks.
Yes, sir.
Excuse me, gotta go back to work.
I'm frying some snacks...
Gonna bring you two more, OK?
What's that noise?
Who's there?
Is it you, Nonato?
Mr. Zulmiro!
--Nonato, is it you?
--It's me, Mr. Zulmiro!
What the fuck are you up to?
Nothing... I just dropped
something by accident.
Are you nuts?
Go inside, Iria...
Go back to bed, you moron!
--It's fish, right?
--No, fish is on Friday.
Food! Food!
I'm starving, man.
More, more...
Give us more, man.
We're eight in here.
--Go wash your hands.
--That'll feed Bujiu only...
--Check out the meat.
--Meat again?
--That sucks.
--Hurry up, man!
I'm fucking starving.
If you don't like it, go to a hotel.
I'm playing the waiter here...
Kitchens are the same anywhere.
Today, we have chopped meat.
Yesterday we had stew,
the day before... steak.
They're good at recycling meat
three days in a row.
I know these kitchen tricks.
Fish should be on Fridays.
It's when you get them fresh
from the market.
It should be, because we never
get fish here.
But worms... they're regulars.
We get them everyday.
Holy cow! This food sucks.
Do you want me to get the waiter,
so you can bitch about it?
Not the waiter, dude.
They could bring back that guy
that went to... Piraquara.
Do you remember him?
That crook with bad hair
that cooked for us?
He kicked the bucket.
He was a motherfucker.
True, but he was an awesome cook.
Some rosemary and black pepper
would give it a nice touch.
What are you mumbling there?
What did you say?
If it had rosemary and black
pepper, it would taste decent.
--Did you hear that?
--Do you cook, butt-white?
Yes. I used to be a cook.
Come here.
Come here, damn it!
Say, if we'd get you that fucking
black pepper, would you cook?
Sure.
But I'd need an oven.
The other guy had one.
--Where is it?
--It's safe. I got it.
Good job.
What's for tomorrow?
--What are we having tomorrow?
--It doesn't matter.
Just get me some garlic, pepper,
onion, cooking oil...
grated cheese, rosemary...
I can make something out of it.
No kidding!
--Hey, Lino!
--Shoot.
Talk to the kitchen guys.
Tell them to arrange that stuff...
that rose something.
Not rose... it's rosemary.
Right... rosemary!
Get that shit for... what's
your name again, redneck?
Nonato Pocketknife.
Lino...
Get that rosemary for Nonato,
tomorrow I'm in for a good meal.
Hey you... Wait Up!
You go back to cleaning.
And you cook.
I should explain about
power struggle in this cell.
Those two talking are
Wait Up and Bigmouth.
Bigmouth is a pickpocket.
He is a loser and always
talks too much.
Things turned out pretty bad
for Wait Up since he got in jail.
That quiet one in the corner...
his name says it all... Kidnap.
He doesn't talk to anyone.
So we'd better leave him alone.
Skinny was a grandma's boy.
He was a "mule".
I ain't swearing him.
He used to carry drugs
in his stomach.
He's done it so many times that
his stomach is messed up now.
He keeps taking those anti-acids...
he buys them off Lino.
That one over there.
Lino is our errand boy.
He gets us some stuff.
And charges everything,
of course.
That one constantly in a bad mood
is Big Walt.
He's a scapegoat.
When shit hits the fan, he raises
his finger and says: "I did it."
That big black guy owns our cell,
he's the big boss around here.
He does things that even
the meanest people wouldn't do.
His name is Bujiu.
He has a cell phone,
gets female visitors...
not just of his own women.
He knows how to make people do
whatever he wants.
That's why we're so few
in this cell...
whereas the other cells confines
thirty guys.
Bujiu... sleeps on the top bunk bed.
But here at the bar,
my fried chicken snack rocks.
Some doctors say fried food is
bad, clogs your veins...
What are they: doctors
or plumbers?
Ask Mr. Giovanni
if fried food is bad.
He knows everything about cooking.
Seems that first they invented
food and then, they wondered...
"so now what? What the fuck?"
Then they created Mr. Giovanni
to guide us.
Check him out... Mr. Giovanni.
He deserved the top bunk bed...
and even a night lamp
for his crosswords.
Hey, you! Come here, please.
Are you the cook?
Yes, sir.
Interesting, I own a restaurant
around here, the Boccaccio...
--Bocatio?
--Boccaccio!
International Cuisine,
friendly atmosphere.
I know everyone here.
Every single person.
But I have never seen you
around here.
I've just arrived in town.
--Did you learn to cook in the jungle?
--I'm not from the jungle.
I knew how to cook,
but the fried chicken snacks...
I learned from Mr. Zulmiro.
Wanna talk to him?
No. Leave Zulmiro alone.
If he taught you,
it means you got talent.
Because his chicken snacks sucks
real bad.
This one is good.
It made me hungry.
What else do you have there,
other than... fried food?
--Hard-boiled eggs.
--Forget it. I'll eat at home.
There's some leftover stew
from lunch. Do you want some?
--Stew, you said?
--Yes, with some tasty potatoes.
--Let me have it then.
--Just a sec.
JAIL UPRISING. INMATES CLAIM FOR
QUALITY FOOD RATION.
Here you go.
Thank you.
Did you like it?
Tell me something, did you put
some rosemary in it?
Yep. It goes well with meat.
Mr. Zulmiro didn't notice it.
--That's shank, right?
--Yes.
I had to pound it very hard
to make it soften a little bit.
You should work with an expert.
Someone who masters culinary art.
Do you want to work for me?
I don't know... I'm OK here.
Mister Zulmiro pays well,
plus benefits...
Benefits?
A benefit is to tell Zulmiro
to fuck off.
Hey, Rosemary man...
what's for today?
Excuse me.
Chicken stew...
but I'm working on it,
so it tastes better.
We got no prawns.
Fuck it.
It's damn good.
Hey Rosemary guy, is that
for today or what?
It's ready, Big Walt. Chicken and
coconut rice.
--Folks, lunch is ready!
--Sweet!
Coconut chicken!
Nonato... This is a real kitchen.
Hi Giovanni, we're out of
mascarpone cheese.
--Where can we get some more?
--We'll see that later, Francesco.
I'm taking care of Nonato now.
He's our new assistant.
Francesco is the first chef.
When I'm away, he's the boss,
got it?
--Here's where I keep the wine.
--The bottles are laying down.
Of course. I'm a wine expert.
You're lucky to work for someone
who's a wine expert.
First lesson: did you notice
how far the oven is from here?
The wine has to be stored
at a cool temperature...
like fresh mountain climate. Do you
have mountains up in the jungle?
No, sir.
You're screwed then, because it
gets cold here. Get ready for it!
Why do we lay the bottles down?
To store the most you can.
No, it keeps the corks dry. When
you pull it, it won't fall apart.
They're mostly Italian wines.
I used to sell them cheaper.
Now we can sell them for 40 bucks...
--without scaring the customer.
--Forty reais?
You think it's pricey?
Some guys come here to screw a
girl, so they drink some wine...
get her dizzy and score.
Forty bucks for a gettin laid,
plus dinner...
Look.
Check out this wine.
It's a Sassicaia.
It's one of the best wines ever!
--Sassicaia, right?
--They call it "Super Tuscan".
Very limited production.
It's made from Cabernet Sauvignon
and other French grapes.
It's much better than
most French wines.
--The French, right Mr. Giovanni?
--Those people that love orgies.
I got that one from my father.
May God rest his soul.
--God be praised!
--Amen...
I'm saving it for my sixtieth
birthday.
--60th, Mr. Giovanni?
--Yep.
--How many years left?
--Six. I'm 54.
Won't it go out of gas?
Sassicaia... gas?
Go fuck yourself, Nonato!
Thank God you'll be back here,
away from the customers.
--Lino...
--What?
Come here.
Shoot.
--Hey, Rosemary.
--Sir!
Bottom bunk is yours now.
Skinny's bed is yours now.
Get your stuff.
Move, dude.
It's all ours, redneck.
--Water is boiling, right?
--Yes.
OK, come here, Nonato.
Grab some salt.
That sea salt, right...
add a handful of it.
Add some more.
That's OK.
Don't you dare add some oil,
that's for cheap pasta.
Hand me the spaghetti.
Great.
OK, first we mix...
then we wait...
Till it's ready.
When do we know it's ready,
Mr. Giovanni?
It takes practice.
You need cooking experience.
Cooking is an art!
It's like painting, singing...
One must know how to mix the
ingredients.
You gotta know when this is gonna
go well with that.
You gotta know the exact cooking
time, so it won't lose its taste.
Cooking is an art, Nonato.
Here is our studio, the kitchen
and the spices and
the ingredients are our paints.
--Paints?
--Fuck, what was I saying?
Yeah, cooking time.
Since you don't have experience,
you gotta taste it.
--Can I fry the garlic?
--Not yet.
If you fry the garlic too soon,
it'll turn brown and bitter.
I've had a hard time with garlic many
times. It seems easy, but it's not.
That's why I start frying it
just before the pasta is done.
The easier, the harder.
It's easy to mess it up, right,
Mr. Giovanni?
Everyone thinks it's easy,
but they're wrong.
Simple recipes are like...
like a Picasso painting.
Picasso?
Simple, but intense.
Do you wanna see art
with the most basic ingredients?
--Yes
--Francesco...
--What?
--Your turn.
--Your turn!
--Prick!
Nonato, bring me the guava
that's in the fridge.
Yes, sir.
No, the other door.
There you go!
Get me that cheese too.
--That one over there.
--This one?
Yep.
Mr. Giovanni, it's rotten...
and moldy.
It's not bad. It's a gorgonzola.
--Gor...?
--...gonzola.
Gorgonzola.
One of the word's oldest
cheeses. It's moldy.
--Try it.
--There's no need.
Come on, try it! It's good!
It tastes like spoiled butter.
--Your ass tastes like spoiled butter.
--Come on, Mr. Giovanni!
Do you know the "Romeo and
Juliet" dessert?
It's very popular in my town.
You replace white cheese
with gorgonzola.
It's called Anita and Garibaldi.
I made it up myself.
--Anita and Garibaldi?
--Yep.
It's good.
You know what?
I can't serve Romeo and Juliet
in my restaurant...
'cause it's an ordinary dessert.
If I add gorgonzola instead,
it gets sophisticated.
Then I can charge 8 bucks for it!
Some gorgonzola and guava for
Holy Shit!
How much paint do you spend on
a painting? A hundred bucks?
And later on, they sell it
for millions of dollars? So...
The same goes for cooking.
This is art, Nonato.
--It's a Picasso!
--Lemme ask you something.
--May I?
--Shoot.
We gotta add the paint
just before serving it, right?
Cross the damn ball, man!
Kick it forward! Fuck!
Get out of there!
Here!
Go to the goal line, you moron!
They play so bad!
--Rosemary!
--Hi. Did you find it?
Check if it's what you wanted.
--Perfect. Fantastic!
--Fifteen packs of cigarettes.
--What?
--Fifteen fucking packs!
Fifteen packs?
Don't screw with me.
You're screwing with me.
It was hard to get it.
I don't know if I've got it.
--Really? Give it back to me.
--Ten?
--Give it back.
--Ten?
Give it back, you prick!
Twelve?
Twelve it is. Deal.
It's a bit expensive...
Come by my cell later.
Twelve and don't fuck with me,
all right?
No problem. Chill out.
Whatever...
And then, we're the crooks!
INTERNATIONAL CUISINE
FRIENDLY ATMOSPHERE
--Good night, Mr. Giovanni.
--Good night. Go to bed!
Gonna take a walk...
Go get some rest.
We've gotta work tomorrow. Go!
--Bye.
--Bye.
Out! This is my spot. Leave!
I got here first.
You better leave.
This is my spot, slut.
Did you get your stockings
at the thrift shop?
If you don't move now,
I'll kill you!
It's the fried chicken snack guy...
--How are you doing?
--Fine. I'm hanging in there...
--There... up in her ass!
--You slut!
I came by the bar the other day...
but you weren't there.
--You don't work anymore?
--No, I'm working somewhere else.
At nearby restaurant...
At the Bocatio Restaurant.
Ah. The Bocassio.
I know. Over there.
Friendly Cuisine.
The fried chicken snacks
from the bar are crappy again.
I didn't know about it, but...
Mr. Zulmiro is not a very good
cook, you know.
I agree.
Where are you staying now?
I'm staying at an Inn
by the restaurant.
Good.
And...
Do you have a bite to eat
at your place?
I got no real food,
but we could order a pizza.
So naive!
Lets go.
I'll feed you there.
--You're hungry?
--Yes, and you?
You smell so good, Iria!
It's talcum powder.
--I like it.
--Thanks.
Shall we stop by the restaurant first?
--I'm starving.
--At the Bocatio?
Yes, at the Bocassio!
OK, I've got the keys
to the kitchen.
So you're the boss now!
--It was delicious.
--Really?
--No, stop it, Nonato.
--What?
I don't French kiss anyone.
Never.
--No?
--No!
--You can't?
--I can't.
I can't,
because it's not ethical.
--Ethical?
--Ethics...
I don't kiss anyone. I do
everything else, but kissing.
--Everything?
--Everything!
Fuck!
An ant got into my nose!
Fuck!
You get used to it.
If they go into your mouth,
just swallow them.
I won't get used to it.
This place is like an anthill.
When I used to go to Colombia...
--You've heard of Colombia, right?
--Of course, sucker.
Do you know what they eat there?
Guess what they eat...
Ants.
Like the ones we see here.
When I went there for coke,
I ate some.
--Fuck, that's terrible.
--No, they're not that bad.
They sell them on the streets.
Some ants are this huge.
You eat them fried.
They taste good.
Skinny...
Lino...
You know what?
I had a great idea.
We could take these damn ants...
fry them with some garlic,
onion and parsley.
They'd make a delicious snack
before dinner.
Lino, you shouldn't be picky
about food.
I don't know.
It's what the rich eat.
High protein food, man.
I bet they won't like it.
Have I ever let you down before?
Help me gather them. Come on!
We'll gather them.
I'm positive about it.
Bujiu will love
our Colombian banquet.
You fucking Fat rat!
Will you bring us the stuff or what?
Watch out, you dumb ass!
You talk to Skull face.
I'm warning you!
--Guys!
--What's up?
Fat rat is fucking around again.
Fat Rat, quit the crap.
You better behave.
Watch out, bro,
I'll cut your balls!
Fuck off!
This shit is good.
What is it?
Guess.
Guessing game is a queer thing.
Just fucking tell me.
Fried ants.
--You're kidding me.
--It's fucking delicious!
Stick it up your ass, redneck!
Go fuck yourself!
Who do you think I am?
You're feeding me with ants!
Son of a bitch,
fucking jungled cock sucker.
--Stop it!
--Stop, my ass!
Fuck you, man! Are you insane?
Great idea, my ass...
Stick it up your ass,
motherfucker.
Get out of my way, fuck!
Unbelievable! Fried ants!
Go feed your mom
with your fucking fried ants!
Skinny ate it in Colombia.
Big Walt thought you'd like it.
Stop fucking around, Rosemary!
What the fuck you saying?
I cover Bujiu's ass,
but not yours.
I ain't your doormat.
Go fuck yourself!
I said I had them in Colombia,
but I never told ya to make them.
Cook me some man's food, damn it!
Watch it!
I'm getting lucky, I know it!
Guys I'm a smart ass.
Go! Go!
Hey, Rosemary!
Come drink some Maria!
"Crazy Maria", fuck!
What's up redneck?
Are you insane?
This shit is so fucking strong!
If he can't handle Maria,
he won't be able to handle Joe!
That's "Crazy Maria",
a "cachaca" we make in jail.
That's for tough guys.
Bujiu, if you add a drop of
"angostura"...
it'll taste better, like Negroni.
We've got enough niggas here.
No, it's negroni... a fancy drink.
Mix it with some angostura,
that's also fancy.
That drink's gonna kick ass!
Really? Lets get that stuff,
so that shit tastes better.
Write it down, Lino.
How is it called?
"Angostura".
--What?
--An... gostura.
An... gostura.
An... An... An... Cards.
--Listen, you gotta get this shit.
--Lets play!
This is the City Farmer's Market.
It's where it all begins.
Gastronomy starts right here.
It's where we begin to cook.
For a farewell dinner,
a wedding party...
Smell it, Nonato.
It smells like meat, fish, fruit,
grains... all mixed up.
Culinary art is about finding
the best ingredients.
You can't have someone do it for you.
The cook has to come over here.
A real good chef must come here
in person.
He must know all the vendors,
their sons...
He must look at them and see if
they're telling the truth.
I don't have to do it anymore.
I've been coming here for ages!
Everyone knows me and respect me.
They know I won't buy their stuff
again if it's shitty...
and I badmouth them.
But the contrary is true.
If I like their product,
I always buy from the same place.
How are you doing,
Mr. Giovanni?
What's up, Toninho?
That's Toninho, a real crook!
Let's go to the butcher shop.
Now you'll see some blood.
Holy Mary...
--Good morning, Ze!
--Hey Giovanni, how are you?
Nonato is my new assistant
at the restaurant.
--Is he learning?
--I'm teaching him, we'll see.
I'm gonna show him some things
in the back.
Be my guest.
--Good morning!
--Good morning!
This is the supreme art.
The art of cutting beef.
You look at it and think:
"it's all meat".
True. But take a look, Nonato.
This is flank steak. Good meat.
But down here, what do we have?
Sirloin.
Flank steak for 8 bucks per kilo.
Four fingers down...
the sirloin for 1 5 bucks per kilo.
You see, Nonato? It's art!
A quick look tells you that this
is good stuff and this is not.
It's like checking out
a skinny woman.
Under her dress,
you find a bombshell.
To cut meat...
you gotta look at it
with a clinical eye.
This cut for example.
Come check it out.
This one here. This is
filet mignon, the best cut.
It's just like a woman's ass.
Filet mignon is the best cut.
Filet is the cow's ass, right?
And in the ass is more expensive...
No, I said filet mignon...
correlates to a woman's ass.
It's the best.
--Don't you like a woman's tush?
--Sure do!
Hey there!
I work here on Thursdays.
--It's nice here, Iria.
--Yeah, do you like it?
--Buy me a drink.
--What?
--Buy me a drink, will you?
--OK.
Hi, Edson. Is everything OK?
Give me the usual.
What do you wanna drink?
I don't handle alcoholic too well.
Nothing? Get something.
Quit being stingy.
--What?
--Shush!
Edson, make him a fancy drink.
Egg liqueur for Iria...
and a Negroni for Iria's customer.
I'm not her customer.
I'm a friend.
Her friend...
Beautiful!
Stay put. I gotta get ready
for my show up there.
Stay put. Stop grabbing me.
--What's that?
--Angostura
--Angostura?
--It's sour, but good.
Damn it's strong!
Like nail polish remover!
I don't know, I don't drink.
I'll drink it up.
Damn!
Pour me another one.
How long have you been working here?
Angostura...
Another one...
Hurry up, come on...
That's good...
Son of a bitch!
Go mess with someone else!
I know him, let him go!
--Son of a bitch!
--Let him go!
--What happened?
--Calm down.
--Where am I?
--Calm down.
It's all right...
Iria?
--What am I doing here?
--Hold on.
--Is this your room?
--Yes, it is.
--What happened?
--Drink some water...
You don't remember, right?
You made a scene
at the dancing club.
You broke a bottle. ..
You wanted to kill everyone.
The bouncers kicked you out.
They beat the shit out of you.
Honestly you deserved it.
--Did you take care of me?
--No.
No, your aunt came from the jungle
just to take care of you.
--Are you all right?
--I'm a mess.
Well...
Gotta go.
I must work.
--Fuck, Mr. Giovanni!
--It's all set.
I ran into him. I told him...
you wouldn't go to work
for some days.
--Didn't he get mad?
--He laughed.
He said: that jungleman had no brains.
Same old story.
You know him as much as I do.
Iria...
Thanks.
No worries.
Gotta go.
These days, I am the most
respected guy in the slammer.
I really can't complain now.
Middle bunk bed...
You're moving up, Nonato!
When you sleep on the low bed,
you already feel important.
The minute you get the middle
one, you realize it was crap.
It's an illusion that the low bed
is better than the floor.
The floor levels with shoes
and socks. It stinks bad.
But the low bed is not much
better.
There's no feet on your face,
but the view is way worse.
Holy cow!
I could take the top bunk bed.
But I can't, it's Bujiu's.
I can't complain. I'm doing fine.
Everyone has been eating well...
I got lots of compliments.
They lick their plates clean
and love the food.
This is so damn good!
Awesome!
To die for!
--So fucking delicious!
--So good!
--Yummy!
--Mouth-watering!
A trip!
I heard them say
"better than pussy!"
Almost!
I'm gonna write down
a dictionary.
Human beings are weak.
They get used to comfy stuff.
They soften like a shank
in a beef "bourguignon".
By the way,
I gotta get some herbs.
I'm gonna have the guard get me
some thyme, still got rosemary...
fresh parsley. Better yet, I'll
get parsley and spring onions.
And sage.
--How are you doing?
--Fine.
She's my girlfriend.
--Hi.
--All good?
Let's get some fish for later.
This cheese is bad. It's rotten.
Check it out, it's all moldy.
It's not rotten.
It's supposed to be like that.
It's called gorgonzola.
It's 1 300 years old!
This is why it smells so bad!
It's for tough guys.
If you need a bad-ass cheese,
get a gorgonzola.
There's another kind, created by
the French that like orgies.
It's called Roquefort, not as
strong as gorgonzola though.
You wouldn't believe it.
There are a thousand ways to eat
gorgonzola, dude.
As a salad, sandwich,
pasta, pizza...
Hey, Rosemary!
That gorgonzola might be
super-duper or whatever, man.
Do whatever you wanna do with it.
You can make pasta, pizza
or stick it up your ass...
Do whatever the fuck you want.
But you bet your jungled ass
that junk won't stay here!
That stinky ass gorgonzola
won't pollute the air I breathe.
Out of my way!
Keep it outside, with the shoes
and socks.
I've told you already!
Take that damn thing outside!
Nonato... someone is here
to see you.
It's Iria.
Hi Iria! I could smell
your scent in the air!
--You've got a good nose!
--You smell good.
You two behave.
--Have you eaten?
--No.
--Are you hungry?
--Yes, I was born hungry!
My little hungry girl...
I'll cook you some spaghetti.
What do you say?
Yummy.
Just give me a minute.
You're crazy.
Iria...
I need to talk to you!
OK.
I've been thinking about it
for days now.
Spit it out.
Would you marry me?
Did you choke?
Spit it out.
There you go.
I'll get you some water!
God heavens!
Drink it!
Drink it down!
Drink it down, Iria.
There. Drink some more.
Go ahead.
--Felling better?
--Damn!
--I'm fine, thank you.
--Are you sure?
I'm fine!
Holy cow!
The garlic, damn it!
I burned the garlic. Shit!
It stuck on the pan! Fuck!
I screwed up the pasta.
So Bujiu...
big boss is coming over.
--For real?
--They've confirmed it.
Rosemary!
Come here!
Watch out.
Sit down.
Pay attention.
We're talking fed now.
Someone's coming to join us...
His name is Etcetera.
Do you have an idea of who he is?
Never heard.
Etcetera is the big boss.
The boss of bosses.
We need to welcome him
appropriately.
You know what I'm saying?
You dig, Rosemary?
I didn't, but now I do.
So beware, man.
I want to keep it cool with him,
make a good impression.
I want you to cook something
special for Sunday, you know?
--Make us something yummy, dude.
--Next Sunday?
Yes. I want good quality food
and drinks.
No problem! Count on me.
It's for next Sunday.
To celebrate Etcetera's arrival,
we'll get you the main kitchen...
With all gadgets,
so you can rock! You got it?
The main kitchen will cost us a lot!
I don't care.
It's for Etcetera, dude.
It's for a long term investment!
Good evening, Mr. Zulmiro.
Good evening my ass,
you motherfucker!
Chill, Mr. Zulmiro.
You're a motherfucker.
You left me here all alone.
Hey, Nonato... I welcomed you here.
It's just that Mr. Giovanni
made me a better offer.
Salary and benefits... those stuff.
--It's business.
--Yeah right. Business...
What do you want here?
--Looking for an offer?
--No...
I wanna talk about something
very important.
Fuck... I'd better sit down.
Sit.
Shoot.
Mister Giovanni's restaurant
is closed on Mondays.
So I asked him to let me make
a special dinner there.
What are you up to?
Big orgies for sure!
No... I'm gonna get
engaged to Iria.
Iria?
Iria? That Iria?
Now people marry in brothels?
--What's a brothel?
--A whorehouse!
It's not that.
I love her and I want to
marry her.
She doesn't want to rush things,
because she's not pregnant.
So we're gonna get engaged first.
You're gonna marry Iria, Nonato.
What's the point?
Well, it's your cock,
your money.
--You know what you're doing.
--I want you to be my best man.
As my guest of honor,
you know.
Would you accept it?
Not on this Monday,
on the following one.
--Would you accept it?
--Yes.
Thank you, Mr. Zulmiro.
Mr. Zulmiro...
you still can't make good fried
chicken snacks. Good Christ!
Motherfucker!
Excuse me, boss. Mr. Etcetera...
I want to start this banquet
with this wine here.
It's a beauty, delicious...
and it's from Italy.
It's written right here: Italy.
You see? Italy!
Yes, it's the country of that
fucking Paolo Rossi...
who screwed us up in the
This wine is called Chianti,
like the grape.
You can't just take any grape
from the market.
They don't make good wine.
To make wine, you gotta smash
the grapes real good.
Let them ferment, then you put
the must into "cachaca" barrels.
Now you take out only the must,
not the "cachaca".
That's why wine is all about
flavors.
It's stored in a barrel
for a year and a half...
with its scent kept inside,
so when we open the bottle...
we smell flowers.
we smell grapes...
we smell forest, wood
and even animals...
Yes, it smells like animals.
Some wine even smells like
wet dog.
Like wet dog?
You invite me over to drink
something...
--that smells like wet dog?
--Of course not. Rosemary is joking.
Are you nuts, man?
Throw that shit in the toilet.
Bring us some beers.
--Got beer?
--Beer?
We don't have beer, Bujiu.
Bring us Crazy Maria then,
goddammit!
I'm gonna bring you Crazy Maria
right away.
Wet dog, my ass!
He's a schmuck, but he's a good
cook. You won't regret.
--Crazy Maria, Angostura.
--Give him credit. Trust me.
Let's have Maria!
The carpaccio!
You know that having a good cook
in prison is important.
Hey folks, this is "carpaccio".
Fancy food.
It's good... but it's raw.
He's right!
Rosemary, this shit is raw, dude.
It needs more cooking, no?
Big Walt, fry it more.
I want it well done.
No, Bujiu.
It's supposed to be raw.
Raw meat, my ass.
This must make you sick.
--Take it, Big Walt.
--Big Walt!
Are fucking with me, Rosemary?
Big Walt, go fry it.
First, wet dogs, then carcass.
What's next?
I'll eat his bones
if he keeps screwing up.
Give him more credit.
He's good at cooking.
Want some more Crazy Maria?
Who told you to turn up
the flame?
Turn it down, damn it!
Come on!
The potatoes are fucking hard!
Fuck, the broccolis are
overcooked!
Can't anyone do it right?
We're helping you out here.
Are you nuts?
Keep it down, dude.
My ass is on the line.
If I get screwed,
you'll go with me.
Do it right, man.
You too. Do it right!
--I'm trying, man.
--Try harder.
Fuck! Fish and meat
in the same oven!
Motherfuckers! They should have
baked it separately!
What the hell!
Whatever!
Skinny! Come give me a hand.
Hurry up!
There, there.
Good evening.
Hey! Where are you going?
--Is Iria here?
--Iria?
No, she's left.
Not long ago.
She smelled good... as usual.
--Thank you.
--Anyone else?
--Goodnight.
--Goodnight.
--Hi!
--Hi.
Have you seen Iria?
--Where's Iria, Soraya?
--She hasn't arrived here yet.
--She's not here.
--Damn.
But you are...
Wanna taste something
different today?
--Nope.
--Come on!
--I've eaten already.
--Have you?
Shouldn't you be
at the restaurant?
Cutting onions and garlic,
working hard?
Today is Monday
and the restaurant is closed.
Really? Take your chance then.
You shouldn't miss opportunity.
Didn't I tell you that
his cooking is amazing?
It's good or what?
It's getting better.
I'm your fan, dude.
That's a cool tattoo.
I've got one too.
It's pretty, colorful.
Where did you get it done?
Here in town.
This star is for talent.
The other one is for my mum.
This crazy bird means courage.
Every kitchen worker has
a tattoo.
From the chef to the assistant.
It means respect.
I've also got this one.
I made it myself in prison
with ink and a pair of compasses.
--What about those three crosses?
--These are the 3 cops I killed.
Swallow it!
Give it to me, damn it!
There you go!
Move! Move! Move!
Move, 'cos the guy's enjoying it.
Go Big Walt!
You move like a turtle!
Come on! Hold it!
--Here's the pork!
--Yummy!
The knife!
--Come on, where to start?
--Here.
--I'm full.
--You'll be fine.
Cheers!
The cops came out of nowhere
shooting on everyone.
How so?
I don't know. Someone must have
snitched on us.
Don't you ever stop?
Slow down, man.
You eat too much!
You're gonna get sick.
Isn't delicious?
Isn't it special?
Yes, it's very special.
He's good at it.
Rosemary, you're the man.
Hey Rosemary, don't you have
some beans to go with it?
Sure thing, boss. I made them
just for you.
--I knew you'd want some.
--Go get it.
I told you he was
an awesome cook.
You trained him well.
He knows I gotta eat my beans,
otherwise I don't feel full.
--You don't?
--Nope.
Good boy!
Your Majesty.
Hey Rosemary, why do you bring
one dish at a time, man?
Why don't you bring them all
and sit your ass down?
Because you can't mix it all
in one plate.
You must savor the flavors.
One at a time.
You must taste each ingredient,
everything...
Why? It'll all end up
in my stomach, right?
They'll get mixed up once inside.
But you don't eat shit just
because food turns into shit.
Does anyone eat shit here?
I never did, but..
I made a loser eat some.
That's so gross! I'm eating here!
--Shut up!
--Wait!
Did he say it was good?
Or what did it taste like?
He didn't say it was good,
but it gave him a bad breath.
He'd got some shitty breath.
I don't get doctors at all,
you know.
You got fever,
your stomach is messed up...
and they say: it's a virus.
If you got a soar throat,
it's a virus.
If you have a dry cough
and red eyes: it's a virus!
They spend 200 years studying
the dead and healthy people...
and every disease is caused by
a virus?
It's fine with me.
The docs saw Bujiu fat, bluish
and bloated...
I thought they'd say
it was a virus.
But no... "Indigestion".
That's what they said.
So apparently you can die
from it.
I thought he died from the poison
I put into his beans.
What can we do? One dies,
others take his bed.
Who's gonna have the guts
to mess with me now?
Etcetera says: "Make me
some meat, Rosemary.
What's on the menu today,
Rosemary?"
No one will mess with me.
I wonder how Etcetera's
bed is like.
Word is he has a cell
for himself.
For himself...
Maybe I'll make him some fancy
food like pasta "puttanesca".
He's gonna like the name.
I could ask the guard to get me
that Italian wine... Sassicaia.
Tomorrow I'll have him
look for it.
I'll ask for a woman too.
It's been nearly a year
that I haven't got one...