After the sous chef finishes "Dabberina," he walks to the end of the counter and pulls on a string of garlic bulbs. The bottom one begins to glow.
Back at Abby's apartment, a tea kettle begins to whistle. On a cabinet door directly above, the glass steams up. A message appears.
"Help needed at Emeril's Trattoria."
Abby comes into the room, and reads the message.
ABBY: That's the third time this week! The guy should buy a cookbook.
Abby walks to the espresso machine, pushes a button on the side, then pulls first the left lever, then the right. Nothing happens. She repeats the sequence. Again, nothing happens.
ABBY: Damned technology!
There is a door immediately to the left. She opens it, and walks in. Lights on the espresso machine glow, and the door closes.
Emeril's Trattoria: A knock on the back door. Sous chef answers, and in comes La Dabberina.
DABBERINA: Good evening, all. What is it this time?
SOUS CHEF: Good evening. I'll let Emeril explain.
EMERIL: Thanks for coming, La Dabberina. I'm having a problem with my Potage Marocaine.
DABBERINA: And what exactly is that?
EMERIL: It's basically a squash soup, with a dash of ras et hanout
DABBERINA: And the reason you can't just call it 'squash soup' is . . .?
EMERIL: Well, I can charge three times as much if I give it a french name.
DABBERINA: Jeez. Freakin' faux cajuns. Okay, let's have a taste.
Dabberina walks to the stove, and takes a spoonful of the soup out of the pot.
DABBERINA: Wow. You keep trying to sell this stuff at 12 dollars a bowl this place will be a Starbucks before you know it.
EMERIL: I know, I know. Can you help me?
(Song: "With a Little Bit?) Lyrics to follow
DABBERINA: Try spending more time in the kitchen and less time on TV. You might remember some of this stuff.
EMERIL: I know. I'm from Jersey. Showing off is what we do. But I'll do what you say.
DABBERINA: Thank you. I have homework . . . I mean I have other people to help besides you.
SOUS CHEF: Once again, thank you, La Dabberina. I can't teach that man a stinking thing.
DABBERINA: I know. The Food Network has driven many good cooks insane. Just look at Paula Dean. Last week she was wrapping macaroni and cheese in bacon, then deep frying it. I just had to kill her. Such a waste.
SOUS CHEF: Can't you just kill Emeril?
DABBERINA: Well, no. But let me know if he starts using a lot of catsup. We'll work something out. I'm off.
Dabberina exits through the door.
Light comes up on Dabberina standing on the street, astride her scooter. The garlic press on her utility belt begins to beep.
She opens it, revealing a communications device. A voice speaks?
DABBERINA: La Dabberina here. What's up, chief?
CHIEF: Bad news, La Dabberina. It's happened again.
DABBERINA: What's happened again?
CHIEF: The Keebler Elves. They've robbed another liquor store.