Robert: Look, Ma, his loss of taste is because of a side effect that he got because of these pills that he's taking.
Marie: What? Pills?
Robert: Yeah. They're supposed to restore his...
Marie: Hair?
Ray: Yes.
Robert: No. His...
Marie: Memory?
Ray: Yes.
Robert: No. Look, it's... It's his... Keep guessing.
Marie: What?
Ray: His manhood, Ma. His manhood.

Marie: Oh. Here you go, Raymond.
Ray: Ma, I don't need these. [hands Ray the herbal pills]
Marie: No, not for that. For Debra's cooking.

Ray: What's for brunch?
Frank: I made pasta with pesto sauce, chicken sausages, pork sausages, eggplant curry, Waldorf salad, and mini-quiches with ham for hors d'oeuvres.
Ray: What, half day today? What's up?
Debra: I made a frittata.
Marie: Well, good for you, dear.

Ray: Hey, Dad. What are you busting Mom's hump about the lasagna for?
Frank: I wish it was just the lasagna. Have you tried these little quiches she made? I've had belly lint with more flavor.
Robert: What are you talking about, Dad? These are fantastic.
Ray: Yeah, you know. I like Tabasco on mine. All right. Try that.
Frank: Tasteless.
Robert: Well, that Tabasco's got no kick. This bottle was issued to Dad during the Korean War.
Ray: Hold on.
Robert: You know, Dad, I have to say that I am surprised that you cannot appreciate the interplay of these flavors-- the smokiness of the ham delicately contrasting with the sweetness of the egg custard.
Frank: Why don't you put on a dress and do a dance?

Ray: Yeah, yeah, it's not my mommy, okay? Dad lost his taste because of some pills he's taking for his... foot.
Robert: Ray.
Ray: I'm sorry, man. I just- I hate it when she thinks she knows stuff.
Debra: His foot?
Ray: That's right, professor. So why don't you two just run along to the mall before they're all out of knick-knacks and paddywacks?

Amy: But how are Frank and Marie gonna get through this if they don't-
Robert: No. We told Dad we would keep this a secret, and I absolutely forbid you to say any of this to Mom. Do you got it? [off Amy's look] Boo boo?

Ray: Look- Look, let me just say this: when it comes to a man and his wife, a man needs to know that he's a man... whether or not his wife knows he's a man or not.
Robert: What else does Dad have?
Debra: Well, I never thought of it like that. I guess we should stay out of it. Okay, so we won't say anything to Marie.
[cut to Debra and Amy in Frank and Marie's kitchen:]
Amy: Hi, Frank.
[Debra looks through the serving partition and sees Marie asleep on the couch]
Debra: Listen, Frank, can we talk?

Debra: So, how are you?
Amy: Yes, how are you?
Frank: Fine.
Debra: Isn't this nice? How often do we get the chance to talk together, just the three of us?
Amy: That is so true. You know, Deb, I think it is so funny how sometimes people can live so close...
Debra: Yes, and never take the time to just sit down and-
Amy: ...shoot the breeze.
Debra: Communication is so important, Amy.
Amy: Oh, I agree.
Frank: What are you two magpies squawking about?

Debra: Frank, listen. When we heard about your situation, that didn't make us think badly of you. We still think of you as big, strong, virile Frank.
Amy: [as the Hulk] Frrrank!
Debra: And you know, that is the only way Marie could ever see you too. So you should really go talk to her about this so you can work this out together.
Amy: Yeah, if you want to impress Marie, you should talk to her. [as the Hulk] Talk!

Marie: What's this?
Debra: Oh, hi, Marie. We were having a chat with Frank.
Amy: Yep, just chewing the fat. And some celery. [both laugh]
Debra: So, Frank, you think the Mets are gonna take it this year?
Amy: Oh, I certainly hope they can. They've been playing their little hearts out.