30% Iron Chef
Welcome back. Our next guest has taught the world to cook for over 20 years.
But apparently my wife hasn't been listening.
- Funny. - I will destroy her!
And now, extend a formulaic greeting to master chef Elzar.
So, what will you be cooking for Morbo to devour with his mighty jaws?
I'm gonna whip you up a nice, unnameable horror from beyond …
… with mango chutney.
Pathetic humans, prepare to write down the recipe!
What's with the pots and pans? Building a wife?
Part of one. Meantime, I'm cooking up a tasty Sunday brunch for my friends.
Brunch. Right. I'd better warn … Tell … Warn-tell the others.
Okey-dokey.
Nice.
Yes. It's a perfect scale model of the universe's largest bottle.
I put a tiny spaceship inside to keep it from being boring.
Get! For the last time, Zoidberg, look with your eyes, not your claws!
Brace yourselves. Bender is making us brunch.
- Oh, boy! - Oh, God, my tract!
He's proud of his cooking. If we don't eat, he'll be crushed.
Don't panic. If we can get to the ship, we'll fly north …
… and hide under the polar icecaps.
- Good idea! - What's the holdup?
Fleeing somewhere?
With you blocking the only escape route? Don't be silly.
In that case, brunch is served. Let's go, move it out! Stop crying, Leela.
- Zoidberg, are you coming? - Sure. Me.
- I don't want you touching that thing! - I know that.
Surrender your mysteries to Zoidberg.
Oh, no, professor will hit me! But if Zoidberg fixes it, then perhaps gifts.
What?
I've personalized each of your meals.
For example, Amy, you're cute, so I baked you a pony.
Come on, eat! I slaved all day over a filthy stove.
This is terrible!
Good thing I secretly installed this wormhole in the table.
- Where does the other end come out? - You know, I'm not quite sure.
Dear me.
The pie is ready. You guys like swarms of things, right?
Casual hello. It's me, Zoidberg. Act naturally.
Get off of me! Stop!
How interesting, Dr. Zoidberg. Do go on.
Check out the palm tree. It gets sick when I cook brunch.
How's that for coincidence, professor, with all your precious science?
I don't want to hurt his feelings, but this tastes better as vomit.
It's unbearable. What would it cost to get my tongue removed?
And this time I mean it!
Who am I kidding? It was stupid of me to dream of becoming a chef.
I don't have what it takes, and nothing can change that.
Then it's settled. Elzar will teach me to cook!
Absolutely not.
- But I watch your show. You owe me. - I owe you nothing!
One, your antenna's in my crotch. Also, I hate you.
And finally, you can't cook for squat.
- What was the first one? - I hate you.
- I thought that was number two. - I knocked it up a notch. Bam!
I'll never recombobulate this ship.
When the professor finds out, he'll tear me a new cloaca!
Wait. What would the robot do?
Frame someone.
What up?
It's over. My dream of being a chef is deader than the cat I'm sitting on.
Gus, let's give a friendly welcome to this new robo.
- What did you call me? - A "robo". You know, a robot hobo.
- Okay. I thought you said "romo". - No offense intended, my filthy friend.
In fact, why not join us and ride the space rails?
Get ready. We's gonna jump off at that switching prism.
We're going nearly the speed of light, so roll when you land.
Welcome to Bumbase Alpha, biggest hobo jungle in the quadrant.
I've seen bigger. Wait, I'm thinking of Eugene, Oregon.
Wait, a pie with hobo-lifting aroma? Who baked it?
Helmut Spargle. He used to be the greatest chef.
His restaurant was so high-toned, to get reservations …
… you had to create a parallel universe, where you had reservations!
I once ate there, back when I was a senator.
Yo, Spargle, if you're such a great cook, how'd you end up in this dump?
Ages ago, I was the host of a TV show:
Down-Home Country Kitchen mit Helmut Spargle.
One day, the Extreme Soda Company that sponsored the show …
… decided it was too old-fashioned. - Spargle, you're fired.
We need a chef who attracts a younger, more extreme cooking-show viewer.
- Elzar! - Get lost, old man.
Mein soufflé!
Elzar had been seduced by the dark side of cooking.
Cilantro, mango salsa, raspberry vinaigrette.
That twizzler.
As for me, I went temporarily insane and wound up here …
… making pies out of shoes.
My story's like yours, only interesting. It involves robots.
That jerk, Elzar, ruined my dream of being a chef too.
Interesting. You wish to cook, but as a robot, you have no sense of taste.
It's so unfair. I have eight other senses …
… but I'd trade them all, even smision, to be able to taste!
Without the distraction of taste …
… your mind is free to touch the Zen of pure flavor.
- You could be the greatest chef! - I could?
Just as Beethoven was a great composer because he was deaf!
Or how Rembrandt was blind and had wooden hands!
Bender, hear me well. I shall train you.
First, forget everything you know of cooking.
Done.
That's right, Ricardo. A ship in a bottle.
What's that? Well, hang on, I'll look.
I've gathered you in the accusing parlor …
… because one of you is a miniature-ship wrecker.
I'm acting astonished.
Certain clues suggest the culprit is none other than our own Philip J. Fry.
- What? - It was a brilliant scheme …
… but you made one fatal mistake: leaving this confession note!
- Scoundrel. - I don't remember any of that …
… but I can't defend myself.
I have no choice but to charge you the full cost of the materials. $10.
There you go.
What have I done?
Your training is complete, little dessert spoon.
Just as he who wishes to be world chess champion must win at least …
… one game of chess, so must you serve at least one edible meal.
Succeed and I shall reveal to you …
… the age-old secret of perfect flavor.
- Slop's on. - Fine-looking eats.
- It is acceptable. - All right!
Another thing I'm great at! Wait, why'd you stop eating, master?
Because my stomach is about to explode.
- What? My dinner killed you? Man! - It hurts.
Stay confident. The important thing is, you defeat Elzar after I am gone.
And using this, you cannot fail.
A diamond vial of Mrs. Dash?
No, it is the essence of pure flavor.
A few drops will cause the inner perfection of any dish to blossom forth.
There goes my …
… life!
I'll avenge you, master!
I swear, in the presence of these drunken bums …
… that I shall defeat Elzar!
I'm not drunk. I'm mentally ill. But I likes what, what you said.
Elzar, I'm a walking pile of your unfinished business!
- Why, you … - Helmut Spargle has a message for you!
He says, "I'm dead."
Spargle? What'd he do, bland himself to death?
No, he was eating some food I made and by coincidence, his stomach exploded.
Now I'm here to avenge him!
- Seems you're the one who killed him. - Maybe so, but you're his sworn enemy!
I challenge you to a battle of the chefs!
Scandalous!
We'll meet on the ancient televised battleground of Kitchen Coliseum.
Whosever meal is best will claim the title of Iron Cook.
Iron Cook? I can't lose. I'm 30% iron.
You're going down!
Also, I had a reservation for one, under Dr. Bender.
Please welcome the superintendent of Kitchen Coliseum, Chairman Koji!
No robot chef has competed here.
But today, one has barged his way in to challenge for the title of:
Iron Cook!
Yeah, you show him!
Meet our celebrity judges.
- Globetrotter Ethan "Bubblegum" Tate. - Konnichiwa, brother.
- TV anchor-monster Morbo. - Greetings, pathetic host.
A woman who ended a galactic war with apple dandies …
… Martha Stewart's head. - The secret is fresh pork.
Now Koji will present the theme ingredient to be used in every dish.
If it's chicken, chicken à la king. Fish, fish à la king.
Turkey, fish à la king.
Soylent Green!
Soylent Green, a classic ingredient of gourmet cooking. And the battle is on.
- What's Elzar making? - Well, Hiroki-san, when I asked him …
… he asked what it was to me and conjectured my mother was a prostitute.
In the countryside, prostitutes decorate rooms with festive gourds.
Thirty minutes to go.
Look at him roll dough!
I've never seen such powerful strokes of the ass.
- You've never seen mine. - No, I haven't.
Fifteen minutes remaining.
The Iron Cook is bringing in his signature creation …
… a working pastry replica of downtown Venice.
Commemorative turkey basters. Get your commemorative basters.
Yo, hook me up. My turkey is dry, and I've tried everything.
Right. Never mind.
The guilt. The unbearable guilt!
Fifteen seconds.
Ten seconds.
Master Spargle, if you can hear me up in that ditch, where I left you …
… this is for you.
Time up!
The Iron Cook's gone all out for the judges.
He's even garnished the salad with $100 bills. Let's see what they think.
Soylent Green is my kind of people.
Scrumptious. Morbo will store this in his sack for future digestion.
I'm swimming in my Soylent waste. It's a good thing.
Next up, Bender, a student of legendary Helmut Spargle …
… Bender is some sort of wonderful mechanical man.
Delicious.
This food looks kind of funky, but it tastes kind of funk-ay!
The challenger's ugly food shows even hideous things …
… can be sweet on the inside.
Now judgment. The winner will be the new Iron Cook.
The loser is doomed to scrub.
Whose confection achieves perfection? Whose foodstuff will be the good stuff?
Challenger Bender!
That's my robot! I own him!
- You honor me, Chairman Koji. - Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.
Chairman-san, I came here with one goal:
To humiliate Elzar in a large stadium. I believe I've done that.
No question.
But the true Zen of flavor is not found in a coliseum.
It is found in a small kitchen with friends.
So I decline the title of Iron Cook …
… and accept only the lesser title of Zinc Saucier, which I just made up.
Also, it comes with double prize money.
Wait. Everyone must know. I broke the professor's bottled ship!
And what is worse, I framed my dearest friend, Fry!
I can never repay him his $10, so I must take the only honorable path …
… what with the killing myself.
Here I go already!
That sword cost $5000!
Fry did it.
And that's how I defeated Elzar, thanks to Spargle's magic liquid.
Yes, we were there, and we just watched it again on TV.
Let me see that vial, Bender.
Good Lord! According to the spectrolizer …
… Spargle's magic ingredient was water! Ordinary water.
So the real gift Spargle gave you was the confidence to be your best.
Yes, ordinary water, laced with nothing more than a few spoonfuls of LSD.
The important thing is, by my standards, I won fair and square.
Now, who wants brunch cooked with plenty of "confidence"?
- I'm in! - I do!