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Ratatouille/YMMV: Difference between revisions
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* [[Did Not Do the Research]]: A mistake comes from the fact that, while the ratatouille is indeed the [[Game Breaker]] of culinary delight, it takes half a day to be correctly prepared (you need to prepare each vegetable separately, cook them at a very low heat in order to get rid of the excess of water without burning them, then saute them again together, once or in some case even twice...), yet Rémy manage to improvise one in very short notice: being a genius is not enough, you should need to [[Reality Warper|twist the time to your whims]] to make it work.
** Well, Ratatouille ''was'' on their menu, so it's possible they had most of the ingredients prepared just in case someone ordered it.
** The dish Rémy makes isn't the traditional version. It's an interpretation of Ratatouille that Thomas Keller made up (or, if you prefer, Michael Guerard made up and Thomas Keller refined), it doesn't involve cooking each type of vegetable separately, and while it does take several hours and probably wouldn't be appropriate to make completely à la minute in a restaurant, its cooking time doesn't even begin to approach half a day. [
* [[Ensemble Darkhorse]]: Horst. [[Shrouded in Myth|Guess why.]]
* [[I Am Not Shazam]]: The film's title comes from a dish featured in the movie's climax (and the obvious pun on "rat"), not from any of the characters.
* [[Genius Bonus]]: Anton's food-induced [[Flash Back]] hails from Marcel Proust's concept of "involuntary memory". Quoth ''[
{{quote| No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. ... Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? ... And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.}}
** It's actually a very well-known concept in France, used in common speak through the expression "''C'est ma madeleine de Proust''" (it's my madeleine of Proust).
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