Why “The Bear” is the best TV depiction of a chef’s hectic mind

Watching “The Bear” is like taking a seat at a fancy restaurant. It’s packaged in a beautiful picture. But when you peel back the metal curtains, the kitchen unveils a whole different story than what’s on the plate.

I have to remind myself to breathe while watching the hit FX show “The Bear.”

No, it’s not as intense as watching the final minutes of a Denver Nuggets playoff game or the season finale of “Game of Thrones.” But somehow, the emotional weight of a disordered kitchen and the day-to-day worries of a fine-dining chef keep you on the edge of your seat.

“The Bear” – which some chefs have described as the most accurate portrayal of a chaotic restaurant kitchen – dropped its third season on Hulu at the end of June. The Emmy-award-winning dramedy lets viewers see the not-always-pretty insides of a former Italian sandwich shop in Chicago that is struggling to transform into a fine-dining restaurant after Carmy Berzatto, a Michelin-starred chef in New York City, returns home to take over the family business due to the sudden death of his brother.

“In ‘The Bear,’ Hulu’s new TV series dramatizing — and nailing — toxic restaurant culture, the main character recalls a chef berating him. When I watched this part, I had to pause. I knew the show was fiction, but the scene could have been lifted straight from my memory. I used to work in Michelin-starred restaurants, and at the last restaurant I worked at, a sous-chef asked if I was stupid and if there was something wrong with me for not understanding what they were asking me to do. I responded the only way I knew: ‘Yes, chef,’ ” Genevieve Yam wrote in Bon Appétit.

For two seasons, I’ve been screaming at my TV, rooting for the success of a restaurant that hadn’t even opened yet. But even though The Bear (the literal name of the restaurant) finally has guests in seats in Season 3, there’s still no sigh of relief.

Chef Carm (played by Jeremy Allen White) and his team swapped remodeling and funding issues with the pressure to earn a stunning review from the local paper. He’s haunted by the critique of his former predecessors and created an unsustainable menu with high-quality ingredients that change every day. He sets his aims too high for a Michelin star in his first year when hiring and scheduling still need ironing out. His investor-uncle questions why microgreens are so expensive, and Carm’s sous chef Sydney wonders what she got herself into.

The show also examines industry trends, like the questionable death of fine dining after three-Michelin-starred Noma in Copenhagen announced its closure. There are cameos from Michelin-star chefs like Daniel Boulud, owner of Daniel in New York City; Noma chef and co-owner René Redzepi; and The French Laundry co-owner and chef Thomas Keller.

Watching “The Bear” is like taking a seat at a fancy restaurant. It’s packaged in a beautiful picture. But when you peel back the metal curtains, the kitchen unveils a whole different story than what’s on the plate, something you can’t understand until you’re truly immersed in it. As someone who has waitressed most of my life, I can attest to the organized chaos that somehow disappears the moment you step into a dining room.

“The Bear’s” new season’s production is thematic, zeroing in on the character development of a different kitchen team member for each of the 10 episodes. You see Marcus, the pastry chef, struggle after his mom’s death. Carm can’t shake the PTSD that came with the strict guidelines of a Michelin kitchen. But all the while, the restaurant still has the original grit it did when it was an Italian beef sandwich shop. (If it makes you drool as much as I do, we’ve got a list of some Italian beef spots in Denver for you to peruse.)

Despite the pit in your stomach that this show can give you, hope is never lost. You stick to the edge of your seat because every small win makes your heart flutter, whether it’s a heartfelt moment between two coworkers or a glowing customer review. “The Bear” doesn’t need to have an out-of-this-world plot with sensationalism because the tales that come out of a restaurant kitchen are dramatic enough.