Marie: I have to admit, all great artists must face the fact that someday their gifts will fade.
Ray: Ma, come on. Your gifts aren't fading, huh? You the man.
Marie: You know, your father used to salivate over my meals. But lately it's like he's just going through the motions.
Ray: Ma, Ma, Ma. You still got it. You're the Pavarotti of pesto.
Marie: That's a sweet boy. Nothing like his father.