03x08 - What's Cooking?

[bunniefuu]

How come you guys are
always following us?

We're not following you.

You both live that way.

How come you're walking this way when you
want to get over there?

Columbus did it.

My.

Mother's gingerbread.

No thanks.

Sudsy's mom baked brownies today.

Is your mother a good cook, Sudsy?

I guess so.

Maybe she'll win the PTA cooking contest.

She better.

Hermes Beecroft thought it up.

My mother wanted to make it a sewing contest.

She's better at sewing.

Does anybody cook at your house, Chip?

His grandfather does.

Mr. O'Casey does pretty good, considering
he don't know how to cook.

Hey, that was my turn.

I thought you just wanted to stand around
and talk to those clunky girls.

Who cares which mother's the best?

Cook.

Mom's recipe, then you could enter it.

Nah.

You gonna ask your grandfather?

I guess so.

Somebody's gotta come up with a recipe.

Hey, Bub.

Oh, hi, Colonel.

Hey, what are you fixing?

Stuffed pork chops.

How come so many of them?

Well, I'm gonna be ready for those uninvited guests.

No, Amy's taking a course in nutrition.

You know, uh, how to give a family a
balanced diet and all that?

Well, I balance this family's diet by putting five pounds of
meat on one side and five pounds of potatoes on the other.

Amy says we overlook the most nutritious foods
because they're so obvious we don't even think of them.

Well, you haven't overlooked anything.

Oh, I'm hungry.

I had a long session at the air base.

You realize, Bub, that the average man can actually
gain weight eating nothing but grass, tree bark, and roots?

Is that so?

Well, I'll remember that the next time I run short.

No, no, there's nothing personal about it, Hank.

I mean, let's face it, one little
brother's as bad as another.

Look, if there's anybody who's got brother
troubles, it's me.

So are you interested in a trade or not?

Even swap, your little brother for mine.

Well, of course I haven't talked it over with him.

We decide, and that's it.

He's got nothing to say about it.

That's what you think.

Good, it's a deal.

I'll pick him up tomorrow.

Bye.

Gee, Chip, you're like a sl*ve.

Who says you can go trade me off like baseball cards?

This hasn't anything to do with you.

We heard you.

You can go ahead and trade me,
but that doesn't mean I have to go.

Why don't you wait and see, Chip?

It might be someplace you like better.

I'm out of my kitchen, all of you.

Well, Mike... I don't want you in my way.

I'm leaving.

Get out of here.

Bob, Robbie's trying to trade me.

No, Bub, somebody else can have my pork chops.

I'm going to change clothes and go over to Amy's and eat.

Now, how do you like that?

I've been cooking and sweating all afternoon.

Now he'd rather eat grass and roots.

Are you, Mr. O'Casey?

Am I what?

I'm going to let Robbie trade me for some other kid.

What's he talking about?

I heard him on the phone.

Even swap your little brother for mine.

Want me to answer it?

Yes, go on, answer it.

I wasn't talking about you.

I'm the only little brother you've got.

No.

At school, they assign each older guy a
freshman as a little brother.

I'm trading mine to Hank Ferguson.

What's wrong with the little brother they gave you?

Well, he's okay, but the one I'm getting
from Hank is real sharp in math.

He's going to help you with math?

No.

You see, Rangel Milford is our star
fullback, but he won't be if he flunks in math.

So I'm doing the coach a favor getting this kid for Rangel.

Well, when you trade him to Rangel, who do you get?

Well, naturally, I take the kid that
Rangel's got, named Pettijohn.

Just so happens to be Georgette Pettijohn's brother.

For real, that is.

And Georgette's a living doll.

Besides, it's a shortcut to getting acquainted.

Yeah, that's one way to put it.

Mr. Douglas said to say hello.

Hello.

We're just trying to fix it so it's best for everybody.

And Mr. O'Casey?

He said to tell you he won't be home for dinner.

Who won't?

Mr. Douglas.

Bub, if there's any of whatever it is
you're cooking left, save it for me.

Where are you going?

I'm going over to Hank's to finalize the trade.

Be home around 8.30 or 9.

Oh, fine.

Are you going to ask your grandfather about the recipe?

I guess I'll have to.

Well, do you ever write down recipes?

Write them down?

What for?

Well, I mean, like other kids' moms do.

On those little cards.

Oh, certainly not.

I just make them up as I go along.

Why, I could fly this oven by the seat of my pants.

I guess you don't really like to cook.

Listen, young fella, if I could feed these guys
intravenously, I wouldn't put my foot in this kitchen again.

And I guess you wouldn't have a good
recipe on a little card.

Chip, I'm a cook, not a bookkeeper.

Now, get out of here, both of you.

But there was something I wanted to ask you.

Well, ask me.

You don't have to ask me.

Yes, you can stay to dinner.

My mom already invited Chip to eat with us.

Yeah, they're having tamale pie.

All right, then get out of here and hurry up.

Yeah, why not?

Well, I hope you like stuffed pork chops.

Come on, figures.

Get back in.

Get back in there.

Quit.

Looking at me so sorrowful with those beady little eyes.

I got a job to do.

Man, it's really rough this year, Rango.

I sure hope you keep up with those grades.

We need you in there at fullback, boy.

You know, if there was just somebody who could tutor you.

Well, I mean for free, like this freshman
I got from my little brother.

This kid's a wizard at math.

Who's your little brother?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, the Petit John kid.

The Petit John kid, yeah.

No, no, he's not too much.

You know, maybe we could work out a trade,
Rangel, for the good of the team.

Yeah.

Okay.

Well, you think it over.

Okay, bye, Rangel.

What do you think of that kind of deal
down at the Better Business Bureau, Rob?

Well, you see, Dad, Hank wouldn't trade his little
brother, but he made me a present of the kid instead.

So now I've got two of them.

So I'm going to trade my math wizard to
Rangel for the Petit John kid.

That way I get a chance to meet your Jet Petit John.

Smart?

I'm not sure, Rob.

I'll work on it and let you know.

Oh, Dad, I'd stay out of the kitchen if I were you.

Bub's on the warpath.

Oh.

He's hiding an animal in the fishbowl.

All right, all right.

Okay, pal, I won't dunk you.

I'm too soft-hearted.

Hey, Bob, we're in the finals.

What finals?

Mr. Douglas' ragout was picked as one of
the three top recipes.

Came.

Out even, and you got to cook at the PTA meeting.

And tell Susie the name of that man who could cook so good.

Escoffier.

Oh, yeah.

Chip, would you mind slowing that down and
tell it to me again?

When is who, cooking, what, where?

Thursday night.

You, a ragout, PTA meeting.

Me?

In front of all those people?

Sure, Dad, and you can cook those clunky ladies silly.

Oh, now, wait a minute, Chip.

I thought all you wanted me to do was
write down the recipe.

I didn't know I had to cook in front of a lot of people.

You mean you'd let Doreen's mother be to
without even trying?

Well, I didn't say that exactly.

It's okay, Dad.

I know you're busy and don't have the time to fool
around with cooking as if there's a lady in the house.

Well, now, wait a minute, Chip.

You can understand why I wouldn't want to
get up there and...

Well, I guess if I'm in it this far,
I might as well go all the way.

I'll be there with my apron on.

Come on, Chip, we gotta find Doreen.

We gotta make her miserable.

Oh, Dad, she's cooking in the vinyls.

Oh, yay!

Gee, Mr. O'Casey, some smells awful.

I just bet.

If my mother doesn't beat your dad, I'll be her sl*ve too,

because he knows Doreen's mother's gonna win.

I'm not afraid.

I'm.

Flora McAvoy, woman's editor of the Daily Tribune.

We have a four O'clock appointment with Mr. Douglas.

I'll come right in.

Jim Planton, my photographer.

Steve ought to be here any minute.

Delightful.

Thank you.

Are you by any chance Mr. Douglas' father?

Father-in-law.

My name's O'Casey, William Francis.

While we're waiting, can I see his kitchen?

Of course.

Do you happen to know what Mr. Douglas is
planning to wear for the cooking contest?

I haven't heard him say.

Mrs. Peters has chosen a perfectly darling
cotton print in soft shades of yellow and

aqua with a dainty ruffled apron to contrast.

Sounds kind of sweet.

Charming.

Oh, thank you.

Lobster Thermidor tonight?

No, no, it's a sort of a pet.

Now, I want to get Mr. Douglas' viewpoint
on nutritional requirements.

Just how does he strike a balance
between the gourmet approach

and the necessity of keeping three boys strong and healthy?

Well, it's not easy, I'll tell you that.

Why don't you take a couple of shots at the kitchen, Jim?

Right.

You know, most men would have hired a cook and housekeeper.

Your son-in-law is a very remarkable man, Mr. O'Casey.

Would you please step out of the picture?

Well, of course.

Well, now...

Where do you suppose he went?

I mean, Dad looks kind of scared.

They didn't put in pictures of Doreen's
mom or Mrs. Hildebrandt.

Well, with them, it isn't news.

Hi, Ringo.

Robbie Douglas.

I'm offering you your choice of a math wizard
or a kid whose father owns the ice cream parlor.

All I want in trade is dumb old Ernie Pettigrew.

Bub?

Bub?

What could you possibly see in that Pettigrew?

His sister?

You and Georgette Pettigrew?

Hey, Robbie.

Well, that isn't fair, Rangel.

Well, listen, what am I going to do with
two little brothers?

Rangel?

Rangel?

Oh, boy.

Of all the crummy backstabbing tricks.

Hey, you guys, Bub is gone.

Well, he's probably at the grocery store.

No, he left us no.

He won't be home to get dinner.

He says we'll have to eat out or get Dad to cook.

Dad?

How come Bub won't be here to fix dinner?

Because he's gone looking for a job again.

Well, if I'm going to be entered in a
contest, I'm going to have a rehearsal.

Now, we, uh, next we poach the veal ba*ls, but of course we

can't poach them until we get
the stock from the sweethearts.

Bet you're getting hungry, huh, Chipper?

Sort of.

Lemon juice, some sweethearts in the stock.

Hey, Dad, should this stuff be smoking like this?

What's that sound?

Oh, my gosh, the mushrooms.

Now, maybe it'll be just as good without the mushrooms.

Dad, I think all of us standing around is
making you kind of nervous.

Nervous?

No, no.

The whole PTA committee will be watching
you at the cook-off.

Yeah, that's right.

Every time I think of it, I break out in a cold sweat.

Dad, how's Daddy going?

I'm supposed to be at Hank's by 7.30.

Oh, it's almost that now, isn't it?

Yeah, I'll pick up a hamburger on the way.

Well, okay, Rob.

Now, let's see.

What did I do with that spoon?

You dropped it in the pot.

Oh, Dad, I'd like to stay and taste your ragu,
but I've got a lot of work to do at the library.

Well, I understand, Mike.

This is taking just a little longer than I figured.

Maybe next time, huh?

Oh, sure.

Uh, Rob, you want a lip?

Well, Chip, it looks like you and I are
going to have the ragu all to ourselves, huh?

Yeah.

Oh, boy.

Oh, well.

Now, let's see.

What's next here?

One cup of minced onions.

Oh, they were supposed to go in the meatballs.

Well, maybe we can roll them in.

I'd have forgotten how to do it.

The chip has been a long time.

Hi.

Oh, hi, Bub.

What's going on?

Well, did you find a job?

No, not yet.

What are you doing?

Cooking dinner?

Well, yeah.

What's that smell?

Oh, the mushrooms got away from me a little.

Practicing the rag...

Ragu?

Ragu?

That sounds like a dance step.

I'm no good with those fancy dishes.

Are you crying?

Yeah, I guess I am a little.

And it's not just from the onions.

I'm sorry, Chip, it's no use.

I can't do it.

You mean you're giving up?

I shouldn't have started it.

Why don't we just clean up these pots
and pans and we'll all go out to dinner, hmm?

But the cook-off's tomorrow, Dad.

Chip, if I can mess up everything like this in our own
kitchen, can you imagine what I do under pressure?

We'll just have to forfeit, that's all.

I won't.

Discretion.

Public, at least.

Boy, this is worse than a disgrace.

I bet Doreen you'd win.

If you lose, I gotta be your sl*ve for a whole year.

Well, that's too bad, Chip.

Tell them to have a blueprint contest next
year and I'll go all out.

What about this year?

I'll have to leave town.

Bob, Chip didn't want to bother you with
this before, but couldn't you help us out?

You can see this is an emergency.

Could you both please?

Honest, I'd pick out my clothes for ten years.

Can you imagine Chip being Doreen's sl*ve for a whole year?

Yeah, she'd have me doing all kinds of goofy things.

Eating lunch with her, and maybe even holding her hand.

What a horrible thought.

Please, Bub.

I'm sorry, Chip, but if I did that, I'd
have to cook the recipe your dad entered.

Yeah, but Bub, ragu is just another word for stew.

Stew's what you cook the best.

Stew?

Well, all right.

We'll show those ladies how to cook it.

All right.

And now it is my pleasure to present our
three finalists, selected from over 50 entries.

First, Mrs. George Hildebrandt.

Mrs. Hildebrandt will cook her famous shrimp souffle.

Mrs. Hildebrandt will cook her famous shrimp souffle.

Mrs. Eldon Peters will prepare her ham and
asparagus imperial with hollandaise sauce supreme.

Mr. O'Casey will honor us with making
oyster and mushroom ragout.

With veal ba*ls.

With veal ba*ls.

All right, you may begin, ladies.

You too, Mr. O'Casey.

Oh, thanks.

We should allow this gentleman to handicap Agnes.

I think he should have an award just for trying.

Uh, we'll see how it works out.

Let's just start cooking.

And may the best man win.

Tonight.

Are Mr. Albert Turner and Mr. Mervyn Warner.

Will they please step up on the stage?

How did it turn out?

Oh, beautiful.

Just beautiful.

Brown and crisp and raised just right.

Gosh, it does look beautiful.

Why don't you just call it a pancake and hope for the best?

We've had a little accident with our souffle,
and I'm afraid our finalists are down to two.

Shall we begin, judges?

Very good.

Very good indeed.

I hope the judges are hungry.

I hope they brought something to settle their stomachs.

A bit more, please.

What is this, a contest or a free lunch counter?

I see.

O'Casey, get a load of this.

I'm sorry I couldn't be there, Bub.

How did we do?

How did we do?

I won first prize.

First prize, huh?

Well, congratulations.

Thanks.

After tonight, Bub's right up there with
those other men who are great cooks.

He sure is.

I did it with a disguised Mulligan stew.

The judges really liked it, huh?

Well, if I don't know how to feed hungry
guys by this time, I better get out of it.

You're not going to look for a job anymore, are you, Bub?

And let a woman in this kitchen?

Not on your life.

Well, it's a very pretty prize, Bub.

I think so.

But what do you do with it?

Well, you don't do anything with it, Bub.

It's a trophy.

You put it on a mantel or something.

Well, I got a better idea than that.

Let's put the fruit in it.

Jones residence?

Could I please speak to Leonard Jones?

This is his big brother at high school.

Yeah, Robbie Douglas.

Who's this?

Dottie Sue.

Dottie Sue Jones?

You mean, you mean you're Leonard's sister?

No kidding.

Leonard never mentioned that he had a sister.

No.

Uh, yeah.

I'll be dropping by there to check up on
him and stuff like that, you know.

No.

No, I have no interest whatsoever in Georgette Petitjean.

But, Dottie Sue, you're, you're twice as pretty as she is.

Sure.

Well, I wouldn't mind.

Stay tuned for another episode of My Three Sons as
this twice as nice morning continues here on TV Land.