Hal: This is the turkey you got?
Reese: It's perfect.
Hal: It's really small.
Reese: Well, if it were any bigger, it wouldn't be able to fit inside of this!
Hal: What? Y-You're going to put our dinner inside that monster?
Reese: It's a monkfish. The juices of the monkfish will baste the turkey. The flavor from the turkey will saturate the fish, both melding into one fantastic dish.
Hal: Reese, this doesn't seem like a good idea.
Reese: I don't know, Dad. Maybe you're right. Maybe I have no idea what I'm talking about. [sticks spoon in Hal's mouth]
Hal: Oh! Mmm! You know, that really shouldn't work.
Reese: [to the monkfish] Listen, my ugly beauty. Yesterday you were sucking scum off the bottom of the sea. Tonight you're going to tango with the gods. [moves mouth] Yes, master, I will be delicious for you.

Reese: [to Jamie] See? The real balsamic has a smoother mouth feel. Good, you're back. I'm going to start prepping the herbs de Provence and sautéing the mushrooms. I need you to scrub these pots and pans again.
Hal: What? No, I just finished those.
Reese: Dad, look at this. The stubborn patina of tuna casserole, or enchilada loaf, or whatever in God's name this greasy spoon churns out night after soul-killing night. But not tonight. Tonight we go for greatness. Are you with me, Dad?
Hal: No! This pot is clean enough, Reese. No one will taste this.
Reese: All right, then. I guess no one will ever taste this! [sticks spoon in Hal's mouth]
Hal: Oh, my God.

Reese: That means I have exactly 12 hours left to create the most fantastic Thanksgiving feast in the history of Thanksgiving feasts.
Hal: What's with the sheets?
Reese: I can't cook with distractions.
Hal: I don't think that's...
Reese: Dad, remember the chocolate soufflé I made for Thanksgiving two years ago?
Hal: Oh, yeah. That was...
Reese: Rat puke compared to what I have planned! The crepes I made last Thanksgiving?
Hal: Ooh, they were...
Reese: Crap next to what we're having tonight! Don't think of this as a meal. This is going to be like eating the Mona Lisa.
Hal: Reese, I hardly think you can comp... [puts spoon in Hal's mouth] Oh, my God. What do you need?
Reese: Your mindless, robot-like obedience to every demand I make, no matter how small.
Dewey: Plus, we get to eat anything that falls on the floor.