Chef ’s Kiss

The Bear is more than a workplace comedy. It’s a delicious, dizzying feast.

in the first episode of The Bear, the young and ambitious Sydney Adamu (Ayo Edebiri) walks into an old-school Chicago sandwich joint, applies for a job, and immediately gets thrown into the fray of a bustling kitchen. Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White), who recently inherited the Original Beef of Chicagoland from his late brother, Michael, has work for her to do. Because there is always work to do, always food to prep, always a sauce that needs stirring, always a mess to clean up, always something until it’s time to clock out, get some sleep, then return for another round of infinite somethings.

Watching The Bear is a lot like being Sydney on her first day—thrust upon a spinning culinary carousel, tasked with finding equilibrium on your own. Under the stewardship of series creator Christopher Storer, The Bear does not lose precious time explaining restaurant lingo, promptly laying out character backstories, or even establishing itself firmly as a comedy or a drama. (It’s both.) Dinner service starts in 20 minutes, and Carmy and his co-workers have sandwiches to make. If you need your hand held, just put your right one in your left one and keep it moving.

This show is all forward momentum and kinetic energy: subways in motion, gas burners lighting, shouting and noise and rushing. But sprinkled throughout the chaos are careful considerations of the culinary arts and food service. Storer and his fellow director Joanna Calo will briefly pause to zero in on hyperspecific details in the Original Beef kitchen— carrots being julienned, juices oozing off a roasted chicken, the wall clock that reminds everyone minutes are constantly being seized or wasted. But even the pauses never come to a full stop. Thanks to rapid-fire editing, the stress and pressure are as palpable as the taste of all that food, glorious food.

Carmy, once a high-end chef at the French Laundry and Noma who’s now overseeing the slapping of grilled onions, peppers, and braised meat onto homemade rolls, writes the phrase sense of urgency on a piece of tape and sticks it to one of the countertops. It’s what he asks of his staff as he implements the brigade system for maximum efficiency and urges them to communicate more clearly—“Thank you, Chef” becomes the catchphrase of the kitchen. It’s also what animates the principal characters, who are flawed, lovable, and fully, blessedly human.

Carmy, played with deliberate and effective reserve by White, is urgently trying to understand how his brother was running— or failing to run—his business. (Michael’s filing system can best be described as disarray. Some important documents needed by Carmy and his sister, Sugar, played by Abby Elliott, are eventually found in a paper folder labeled, simply, shit.) Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) is a mouthy wild card who can’t figure out how he fits into the restaurant, or the rest of the world, now that Michael, his best friend and employer, is dead. Moss-Bachrach finds the soft heart that beats underneath Richie’s resentment of Carmy, the kid he still calls “cousin” but who’s now running things.

Sydney, who has a spine as strong as her many ideas for improving the restaurant, is incredibly skilled and impatient for her skills to be rewarded. Edebiri, the comedian and voice of Missy on Big Mouth, plays her with welcome confidence instead of the insecurity that often becomes the defining quality of mentee-type characters. And Marcus (an absolutely charming Lionel Boyce), the Original Beef ’s inquisitive pastry chef, is fixated on figuring out how to craft the perfect doughnut; episode four opens with a doughnut-making sequence that is easily the most sensuous thing I’ve seen on television in the past year (and that’s including Bridgerton, season two).

Everyone on The Bear is trying to get on their game and still getting blindsided by the unexpected while bracing for it. They shout “Corner!” every time they turn one in the kitchen because they never know who might be just on the other side.

“Corner!” Hey, here’s an unexpected visit from the health inspector.

“Corner!” Okay, who took the onions I need to prep?

“Corner!” Oh, look, a toilet just exploded. “Corner!” Literally everything that happens in the exemplary seventh episode, a 20-minute knockout that depicts crisis after crisis in what seems to be largely a single take. These eight episodes may leave you breathless and a little dizzy. But when it’s over, prepare to say “Thank you, Chef.” ■