3x-xx-xx ep002 The Man Who Ate a Fortune

The man who ate a fortune. You are in England, in the county of Gloucester, in the 18th century. Within a fine house overlooking the square, a dinner is being served. But first, come into the kitchen.

Pray up for their Pietro. Don't pecanti will be rowing. When God, if you don't watch out, the Turkey livers will be too done. Turn the schpit there, fool, dump cocks. Poor and weak. He can stay out of the city, tequilivers, all day long.

He's offered to do it for him, but if they're not left with me, Mr. Rogison, I'll give him a sense all the way from Munich. And yet, till he's a good life, will he? I have cooked for his Majesty's King, and even he never laid a such a table.

He is a fine thing to cook for an epicure. Oh, he no time he will have no money! Money! What? Rogison, he has fortune, yes? And what does he do with it? One hundred pounds he pays for the Plover's eggs direct from Brittany.

He's a hollywood, she'll come only from the trees, which grow in a certain hill near Sienna. Last to want to cost him a five or hundred pounds. Remember the cool winter he paid a hundred pounds for the dishes for Barry's on New Year's Day?

Oh, oh, oh, oh, he's a mad wonder master. Someday he will eat simple food and be glad to have you. I do not think so. If you cannot have a delicacy, I think I take a song.

Mr. Le Corne, you are enjoying your dinner? Yes, Mr. Rios de Sond. Will you not try these plover's eggs? They came from your own Brittany. Ah, extraordinary. How do you do it, Miss Orosjoson? While eating, I have been transported from Italy to Spain, and now back to France.