Carmy’s “non-negotiables” aren’t a bad list of goals, but as demands, it’s asking way too much.
If The Bear’s premiere, “Tomorrow,” was meant to ease viewers into the season, “Next” sets the table for what’s to come. It does that mostly through Carmy’s list of “non-negotiables” and the crescendoes of “no, fuck YOU” between him and Richie. But it also does that through an early montage paying tribute to Chicago’s rich, high-low food service industry, where thousands of people (sometimes literally) grind out long days at places like the Vienna Beef factory, Kasia’s Pierogies, Chiu Quon Bakery, Lasalle Flowers, Jim’s Original, and in the bowels of the city’s many hotels. They bring love, joy, and food to millions of people, and it’s one of the noblest career pursuits in the game. You can admire Carmy, Daniel Boulud, Thomas Keller, and whoever else for their high-end culinary pursuits, but even the highest-brow chefs will tell you that some of the best food comes from some of the least-glamorous locations.
Where it doesn’t come out of, though, are kitchens full of hot, acrimonious personalities who seem to love and hate each other at the same time. While the scope and intensity of Carmy’s list of non-negotiables might seem absurd (“no repeat ingredients,” “pursuit of excellence,” “vibrant collaboration”), especially to people like Richie or Tina who are more concerned with getting the restaurant off the ground than with getting a star, it’s not a bad list of goals to line the path toward The Bear’s success. For instance, changing the menu every single day is a lot, but it’s not like they’re being asked to make pizza one night and steak the next. It’s little tweaks. Seasonal produce from the farmer’s market. Hamachi looks better than kampachi today, that kind of thing. Carmy shouldn’t expect the staff to embrace literally everything on the list from day one, no questions asked, but I think if he had, like Syd, tried to present these as just goals to work toward, even a week at a time, then he could have been more successful.
What’s really clear is that Carmy’s unrest and headlong dive back into work stem from his inability to deal with anything emotional. It doesn’t seem like he’s tried to work anything out with Claire, even if he should have been Say Anything-ing it at her window the second he got out of the fridge. He apologizes to Richie in a way that I thought was satisfying, but Richie says is emblematic of him being “a baby replicant who’s not self-actualized.” Fucking with Richie’s “dojo,” as it were, might have seemed nice to Carmy, but his messages aren’t being received like he thinks — or maybe he’s always three steps ahead in the conversation when he needs to be one step behind. Grand gestures like trying to make Syd a partner are only grand if they’re not also terrifyingly life changing at the same time. Syd wanted to be a chef, but does she want to own a business?
Everyone at The Bear seems afraid of something. Marcus just lost his mom, and he’s scared of what his new world could be. Carmy’s scared of failing at the one thing he’s good at. (Or he’s afraid that he’s “wasting time,” whatever that means.) Natalie’s scared of becoming a mom in just two months. Sydney’s scared that they can’t sustain what they’ve started or that she’s going to get run over in the process. Chicago’s scared that they’ll never get that Italian Beef window back because “fuck this fancy fuck.”
And Richie’s scared of change. He’s afraid of becoming the better person he knows he could be. He’s scared of opening up and actually accepting his cousin’s apology because their relationship has always been more confrontational than convivial, and he’s scared that, frankly, Carmy’s never going to change. Richie is worried that he’s becoming his mom with what Richie calls “classic behavioral dysregulation,” a term that implies he’s emotionally volatile, overly anxious, and has a tendency to lash out. Four servers quit The Bear on night one because they couldn’t deal with the mania of the kitchen, but Richie seems to want to amp it up even more, pushing Carmy (and, one would assume, Sugar) to their breaking points. I don’t know if that’s by design, like he thinks he can push Carmy so much that he becomes a better guy, or it’s just straight up out of fear. I’m sure we’ll find out throughout the season.
We will also learn more about Marcus this season. We already know that he felt it was right that he was at the restaurant when his mom died, which makes me think the show could be setting him up to be a neo-Carmy. He is still relatively green in the kitchen but willing to put in hours upon hours to learn technique, flavor, and how to be truly creative.
And if Marcus needs to throw himself into the restaurant to get through his trauma, then Carmy’s going to help him get to the top of the pastry (or culinary) world, no matter what that means for his own mental and physical health. The show keeps inserting these shots of Carmy basically vibrating with adrenaline and stress, and while that could just be how Carmy is, it’s also kind of threatening. There’s no way he can sustain this pace, this pressure, and this level of stress. Something’s going to have to give.
Small Bites
• Special thanks to The Bear for letting us know that Syd’s dad has diarrhea.
• Love the Pearl Jam cover of The Beat’s “Save It For Later” that we hear up top.
• For my husband and my first date, we went on a tour of Vienna Beef’s Bucktown factory and had lunch in the cafeteria. He almost proposed to me there but then decided against it in favor of Union Station. Why we didn’t have hot dogs at our wedding, I’ll never know.
• The Chicago accent on Christopher, the produce guy? A++. I could listen to it all day.
• There are eight, no, nine Faks. Richie always forgets about Avery.
• I love the way Tina asks Carmy, “Every day, Jeffrey Ballet?” Great reference and delivered with mom-level care.
