Pops: Aw, honey, what's wrong?
Beverly: Nothing. I'm just tearing up 'cause Julia's chopping an onion.
Pops: You do know that that onion is on TV, right?
Beverly: [voice breaking] Okay, fine! [sniffles] It's my cookbook. I sent it out to some publishers, and they said I was poop and that my cooking was poop and that my one and only dream is poop!
Pops: No one has just one dream, Bevy. I'm sure you got plenty of others.
Beverly: Well, like Barry becomes a doctor, Erica wins a Grammy, Adam gets a rare disease that prevents his snuggly little body from developing into a full adult man.
Pops: Bev, none of those dreams are about you, and one in particular is very troubling.
Beverly: Damn it, I know! Erica's never gonna win a Grammy!

Geoff: Bar, those letters were written about me. And they need to be sent in sealed so the admissions people know they're legit.
Barry: So, you're saying I'm going to actually have to ask a teacher to write nice stuff about me?
Erica: Ha! You're not going to college.
Murray: College-what? Who said college?
Matt: Whoa, where'd he come from?
Andy: For a big man, he moves like a phantom.
Murray: Because college is the only thing that matters to me. That and the thermostat.

Pops: Okay, I'm sure it's not as bad as ya think. Lemme see that letter.
Beverly: Take your pick.
Pops: "Dear Ms. Goldberg, your blending of fish and veal is both upsetting and against God's plan."
Beverly: [sobbing]

Adult Adam: [v.o.] The '80s marked the rise of the cooking show. There was Yan, The Galloping Gourmet, the Cajun cook, and of course, a Swedish Muppet. But my mom's lifelong hero was Julia Child. Julia's show, The French Chef, was the inspiration for our family's deliciously cheesy "French phase."
Beverly: For Erica, savory Quiche Lorraine. For Murray, melty cheese fondue.
Murray: It's like nachos without the hassle.
Beverly: And for my hungry bear, potatoes au gratin, extra gratin.
Barry: This is gonna wreck me. Thanks, Mom.

Barry: Seriously, you all have 'em?
Erica: Definitely to rub it in your face, but Geoff got 12 reccos.
Barry: Twelve? That's almost a baker's dozen! Gimme one. I'll just open it and change the name from Geoff to Big Tasty.

Barry: Okay, don't freak out and call me a moron, but I've apparently thus far failed to "obtain" a "recommendation letter" from a "teacher" at "school."
Murray: Stop with the quotes. My God, I raised a moron.
Barry: You have. "This is your fault."

Beverly: You know, at first, the rejection letters were devastating, but then I remembered that Julia didn't become famous 'til she was 50 and had her own cooking show! Huh? That's where you come in.
Adam: Or go out as fast as I can 'cause what you just said is horrifying.
Beverly: But this is so up your alley, Adam. You're always running around with a video camera.
Adam: Me? Nah, that's like the opposite of what I do.
Beverly: You got a camera in your hand right now.
Adam: Good eye! Good eye. Thing is, I was just about to put this in the garage 'cause making childish movies just doesn't appeal to me anymore.
Pops: Let's start filming, kiddo. This karate tortoise outfit is already making me schvitz.

Pops: Adam, I saw the rejection letters! It was too much! Just help the lady with her dream!
Adam: Even if I wanted to help, I don't run a TV station. I'm just a kid with a camera.
Pops: What about public access? They'll let anyone on there. I watch this one program where a lady answers tax questions in a bikini. Her information is definitely wrong, but I'm a loyal viewer.

Erica: Hey, my Caboodle!
Geoff: Erica's Caboodle!
Barry: Silence! In my hand, I hold a glowing recco from Dr. Katman.
Geoff: Oh, man, what a relief!
Barry: Yeah. Feels good to know I'm not gonna be a full-time drain on society like your miserable couch sloth of a girlfriend.
Erica: Excuse me?
Barry: You've worn sweats for six straight days. You get it.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] And so, Barry broke the sacred code of the recco letter using a high-tech method he learned from watching Murder, She Wrote.
Geoff: Oh, crap! It worked!
Barry: "It is a great honor and privilege to give "Barry Goldberg my highest recommendation."
Geoff: Uh, Bar? The steam is making the ink run!
Barry: Don't panic! We'll just dry it off with the iron.
Geoff: Oh, no! The iron's intense heat is burning the paper!
Barry: Don't panic. I'll just spray it with water from this bottle.
Geoff: Oh, no! The charred remnants are soaked, and now the ink's running even more!
Barry: Don't panic! I'll just hit it with the iron again!
Geoff: Let me try to piece it back together!
Barry: Time to panic!
Geoff: Aah! Aah! The charred remnants are burning my hands!