Ray: Dad, I mean, you're gonna have to stop taking those.
Frank: No way. These babies work.
Robert: Hey, uh, Dad. Do you really need those?
Frank: Hey, your time will come, wise guy. I might not get to hit that often, but when you're called to the plate you better bring a bat.

Frank: I'll live with it, okay?
Marie: Oh, that's it-- "I'll live with it."
Ray: Ma, now you know that it's not your cooking. You still got it. So now you can be happy again.
Marie: Happy? How could I be happy? I'm Rembrandt, and he's blind.

Marie: Honey, it breaks my heart that you think that I might not see you as a man. And you have to know by now that I couldn't possibly think any less of you.
Amy: [to Debra] That is so sweet.
Marie: And I appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to have to decide between my food and our physical relationship.
Debra: [to Amy] Maybe we should go shopping now.
Marie: And I want you to know that I'm touched that our years in the boudoir have meant so much to you.
Frank: Well, they have. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather have the food.
Marie: Me too. [they hug] Oh, Frank. Oh, Frank, I was hoping you'd say that. [as they hug] Oh, Frank. I don't think you need those pills.
Frank: No, those are the pills.

Frank: I have been taking these pills.
Robert: What, for like blood pressure or something?
Frank: Nah, just some herb pills that Stan and Garvin gave me.
Ray: Stan and Garvin? What? What for?
Frank: They're for my, uh... foot.
Ray: Your foot?
Frank: Yeah, you know. My foot.
Ray: "Lancelot"?
Robert: "Possible side effects: headaches, stomach cramping" - Oh, God, Dad, look at this: "loss of taste."
Frank: Hey, you're kidding me.
Robert: Well, didn't you read the label?
Frank: No. My eyes are as bad as my foot.

Frank: Hey, listen, you two knuckleheads. Your mother doesn't know about these pills, so keep your traps shut.
Robert: Yeah, but Dad-
Ray: Well, what are you gonna do when she finds out you can't taste?
Frank: She's not gonna find out. Taste I can fake.

Frank: Everything looks delicious, Marie.
Marie: Thanks, Frank. Here you go.
Frank: Can't wait. [eats] Mmm. Mmm. Fantastic, Marie.
Marie: Really? Oh, I'm so glad.
Ray: So can you believe? Spring training already.
Robert: Yeah, first day tomorrow. Pitchers and catchers.
Marie: Hey, Frank. Try the frittata.
Frank: Bring it on. [eats] Mmm! Oh! Wow, that's good.
Marie: No, it's not. That's Debra's.
Frank: Whoops.

Marie: So is everyone turning against me? Is that what's going on? I don't make lasagna for three days and all of a sudden nobody cares about me. Everybody is Frank's friend.
Robert: No, Ma, that's not it at all.
Marie: Well, what else could it be? Cooking is all I'm good for, isn't it? Oh, yes, I raised two boys with precious little help from your father. And yes, my charity work has benefited countless people within the community. But apparently if anybody looks at this face, all they see is a frying pan.
Robert: I don't see a frying pan, Ma. I see a woman who deserves the truth.
Ray: Don't be stupid.

Marie: Oh. Well, why didn't he tell me?
Ray: Because he didn't want to be ashamed and think that you thought he was less of a man.
Robert: He had to choose between his tongue and his manhood.
Marie: Oh, poor Frank. I had no idea. ... I'd rather he could taste.
Ray: Well, Ma, it's not that simple.
Marie: Yes, it is. I have a say in this. I'll take the taste.

Frank: Hey, could you pass the salt?
Marie: [shocked] What did you say?
Frank: I want to put some salt on this.
Marie: In 47 years of marriage you've never salted my lasagna.
Frank: Marie, it's bad enough it needs it. You gotta remind me how long we've been married?
Marie: That doesn't need salt. [moves the salt shaker away] What's this about, Frank? Are you mad at me?
Frank: No, I just want the salt.
Marie: Baloney. It's because I yelled at you last night for blowing your nose into your sock, isn't it?
Frank: No, all I'm saying is this is not doing it for me.
Marie: Oh. Well, then by all means have the salt.
Frank: Thank you.
[As Frank salts his food, Marie takes both their plates and throws them in the sink]
Frank: "Pass the salt." The list of things I'm allowed to say is getting shorter.

Debra: Look, Frank, about your problem...
Frank: Yeah? Don't worry. I got no taste, but I still got crunch.
Amy: No, we mean the problem with your...
Debra: Foot.
Frank: What?!
Amy: We want you to know this is nothing to be ashamed of.
Debra: Yeah, let me tell you something about Ray. He might talk a big game, but there's a lot of times when he can't always... put his best foot forward. And that doesn't change the way I feel about him at all.
Amy: Yeah. We love our fellas no matter what they're able or unable to do.