His problem, of course, is that he physically can’t cook. Enter our clumsy, lovable ginger chef, Alfredo, and an unlikely alliance leads them on a path through disaster and on to success.
The heart of this film can be found in the recurring line, taken from a fairy godfather-like chef’s cookbook, that “anyone can cook”. This is why I re-watch Ratatouille when I’m feeling exhausted or small, when I’m losing faith in my abilities. And because one of the two villains of the film, the food critic Anton Ego, is all establishment and prestige, I also re-watch this movie when I need courage to speak truth to power.
Most of all, Ratatouille is a film about the life, full of love and delicious meals you can make
for yourself while reaching for your dreams. My boyfriend’s ratatouille, made with herbes de Provence, is a perfect companion to these repeated plays.