Linguini frowned. “Remy… this is just macho ratatouille.”
Remy pointed a tiny paw at the printed specials. Then he crossed his arms and shook his head. He had seen the reservation list: twelve burly firefighters, three rugby players, and a food critic named Anton Ego who had recently declared that “vegetables are what food eats.”
“I was wrong,” he said quietly. “Vegetables can be brave.”