One of the selling points of the FX’s smash hit “The Bear” has been its commitment to accuracy. The chefs at the namesake restaurant speak in familiar staccato shorthand, the chopping-as-second-nature is done right, the plating is on point.
And especially the high-intensity stress, which is familiar to people who have spent most of their professional lives in a kitchen. In my case, that included training at El Bulli in Roses, Spain, as well as with José Andrés at a few of his restaurants. After that, I opened my own place, the James Beard winning-Cúrate, in Asheville, N.C.
Set in Chicago and starring a weary-eyed, muscle-bound Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) who early on quit his star chef job to rehabilitate his family’s Italian beef sandwich shop, the show’s third season kicks off by throwing us deep into a montage of Carmy’s past jobs at some of the world’s best restaurants. The anxiety, the pressure, and the verbal abuse are rampant — the fancier the restaurant, it seems, the more toxic the workplace.
Over the course of the third season, we then watch Carmy bring those same HR-unfriendly practices to his own restaurant, which by now has transitioned from a humble neighborhood joint to a fine-dining destination. Season 2 ended on a prospective note, as the restaurant opened to friends and family, and its community (inside the kitchen and out) coalesced around the creation and consumption of beautiful food.
In this season, which premiered on June 27, any hope that restaurants can be about more than the timely and obsessive plating of dishes dissolves. In that respect, I’m sorry to say that this season of “The Bear” is less accurate than those that came before.
Yes, restaurants are high intensity. And yes, the hospitality industry, particularly when it’s shooting for perfection, can be a very stressful place. But it doesn’t have to be a nightmare, and in my experience, it rarely is.
There’s a profound divide in the show between diners and the people on the other side of the kitchen wall. The tight world of burners and stainless steel is devoted to perfectionism, with tiny micro greens and baby turnips and minimalist plating. The show hammers home the disconnect between the experience the restaurant creates for its guests and the actual, increasingly unhappy and stressful experience of its workers. The season ends with the characters worse off than at the Season 2 finale, with seemingly no upside from their high-anxiety jobs.
As a chef and restauranteur, I’ve watched “The Bear” throw fresh energy into the industry, making both customers and staff more excited about the prospect of dining out. Look no further than the star chef cameos in Episode 1 — René Redzepi, Thomas Keller and Daniel Boulud all make appearances as former Carmy mentors — to see the show’s impact.
But looking back on the 10 episodes of Season 3 I binge-watched within a 12-hour period, I can’t help but feel defensive about how our industry is portrayed by creator Chris Storer. We witness Carmy gradually recreate the environments of the places where he trained. Yes, he learned technical skill; yes, he became “great.”
But he also suffered abuse and anxiety and has lost his moral compass and compassion — the things we watched him struggle to achieve in the first two seasons. In this round’s pursuit of fame and Michelin stars, his team falls apart. So do his finances: Even though the restaurant is packed it can’t turn a profit. Cash-filled tomato cans don’t materialize as they did in the first season.
And then, even as Carmy obstinately continues on his quest for perfection, Ever, the restaurant most influential in his training, closes. Head chef Andrea Terry (Olivia Coleman) confides in Carmy that she looks forward to connecting with people again. The only way for her to do so is to leave the industry.
And so the finale of Season 3 leaves viewers struggling with a question that has become all-too-familiar over the last few years: Are restaurants viable any more? And if they are, who wants to work in them? According to the show, there are just three options in restaurant culture: The Original Beef way, with its cursing, and perennial fighting; the Bear way, where Carmy pushes his team with the same toxic energy that he was trained with; and the way of Ever, the world’s greatest restaurant, which must close its doors.
“The Bear’s” first two seasons had outsized impact. It made Italian beef sandwiches a thing outside Chicago and taught people that leadership in kitchens is real and that lessons can be learned from it. I hope Season 3 doesn’t turn people away from the industry, but I fear it might.
Hospitality represents a first job for so many people. It can (and often does) launch careers and is a job they have, or can go back to, throughout their lives. Most important, restaurants can be a positive place, not just for diners, but for employees, too.
So please Chris Storer, I am begging you, hurry up with Season 4, and show us the potential of the restaurant industry and how far it’s come. Season 3 destroyed hope; I want it back.
