[Editor’s note: The recap of episode five publishes July 3. This recap contains spoilers.]
The Berzattos—and by extension, the entire Original Beef family—have been living in, around, and on top of each other for so long that they can’t remember things being any other way. They talk over one another, bump elbows in the kitchen, and regularly call each other “a piece of shit” in the most loving way possible. They’re never, ever alone.
But, as Richie mulls over throughout this episode, there’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely. With the exception of Natalie, there are very few (if any) members of The Bear team who have a significant other in their lives. And sure, you can find fulfillment in your work; but if that’s the whole story, then something is definitely missing.
It’s brilliant and bittersweet that The Bear is showing us some of the most tender moments of Carmy and Claire’s relationship only after it’s ended. “Violet” opens with a whispered exchange between the two—the kind that only happens behind closed doors in the wee hours of the night, honesty giving off its own light in the sleep-drunk dark.
Carm and Claire may be fully clothed, but there’s nothing more intimate than the meandering conversation they have about deep cuts and the things that made them. Claire notices the scar on her boyfriend’s palm and wonders how he got it. From grabbing the handle of a hot pot, he tells her; but of course there’s more to the story. “Did it hurt so much that it didn’t hurt at all?” (I’m reminded of that famous Mad Men scene where Don tells a room of entranced Kodak execs that the word “nostalgia” comes from the Greek for “the pain from an old wound.”)
We’re used to The Bear showing us how intense and devastating the restaurant business can be. But when Claire tells Carm the story of a particularly awful case at the hospital, the show reminds us that it’s nothing compared to being a friggin’ ER doctor. On the Fourth of July, a teen girl was bleeding out after she fell onto a glass table. As if that weren’t bad enough, Claire administered penicillin without realizing the patient was allergic. When the girl woke up from surgery, her body full of stitches that would leave her permanently scarred, she couldn’t stop laughing. “Why?” Carmy asks. It hits me point-blank in the chest when Claire answers, “I don’t think it hurt yet.”
In the present day, Bear wakes up in the predawn dark, alone with the memory of what he lost: a woman who saw his pain and commitment to his work and loved him all the more for it—because she was the same.
After two episodes trapped in the kitchen, “Violet” stretches out, following the main players through their mornings. Still missing his mother like a limb, Marcus turns on one of the medical machines still scattered throughout his apartment, soothed by its steady beeping. On his way to work, he spies a tiny, perfect violet blooming from a vine along a metal fence. He cups it gently in his big hand, entranced, as always, by the small wonders of the world. The flower is alone; but it’s all the more beautiful for its isolation.
Across town, Sydney brings Emmanuel to check out the apartment she just leased. Like boomer dads everywhere, all he can focus on is how thin the walls are. But his worries extend beyond his daughter’s shoddy new digs: He’s suspicious of the partnership agreement she still hasn’t signed. And honestly, when it comes to business dealings with the Berzattos, who wouldn’t be?
Your heart is a shriveled thing if you didn’t absolutely melt at the exchange between Richie and his daughter, Evie (Annabelle Toomey), as he lounges on her bed before work. They’re talking about Tiffany’s new fiancé, Frank, and what she’s supposed to call him. (She eventually settles on, of course, “Waldo.”) Evie says that her mom’s worried about Richie being alone. But more importantly, could she please have 100 candles on her birthday cake? Her dad is all too happy to oblige.
Despite the fact that Carmy has shouted “NO SURPRISES” about 200 times over the past month, Neil and Teddy have a surprise! It’s a wall of his deepest existential fears! The brothers have “decorated” the office with the headshots and MOs of every Chicago restaurant critic of note. “I hate this feeling,” Carm murmurs as the specter of Chef Joel once again rises in his mind. He tells the Faks to do what they obviously should have in the first place: put the info in a binder and leave it at the host stand so that the team can easily catch the first Anton Ego who books a table.
Back in his bespoke armor, Richie drops Evie off at Tiff’s. Frank answers the door, and of course, he’s the perfect man in every way; I mean, come on—he’s literally Josh Hartnett. He pulls Richie aside to apologize for not giving him a heads up before he proposed to Tiff. It’s a move that straddles the line between thoughtful and cringey. Frank also says that he really, really wants Richie to come to the wedding, and asks when he and Tiff can stop by The Bear. “When it’s perfect!” Richie says as he all but runs for the hills.
Sydney has her own awkward encounter with Adam Shapiro, the chef de cuisine at Ever, outside the El station. Turns out he ate at The Bear two weeks ago without Carmy or Richie noticing, because they were too busy screaming at each other. He compliments Syd on a scallop dish that felt “really new—like, not Carmy.” She tells him the recipe was a collaboration between the two of them, but I have a hunch she’s giving Carm more credit than he deserves.
After the frantic pace of the last episode, it’s an oddly leisurely afternoon at The Bear. Regardless of the tension between them, Syd and Carm move around each other with an easy intimacy, taking turns slicing grapefruit when they each nick their hands. As she works, Syd brings up the very pertinent point that Carmy keeps changing the menu at the last minute without consulting her, which, frankly, sucks. He owns up to being a bad communicator and says he’ll do better; but I’ll believe it when I see it. (The button on this scene of Syd sampling Carmy’s Nicorette, then immediately spitting it out, is pretty adorable.)
In the office, Natalie is giving herself a crash course on the Michelin star system. To no one’s surprise, Richie has opinions about it that are both extremely entertaining and totally beside the point. “I do not give a flying fuck into a rolling donut about the gastronomical proclivities of some dusty French tire-marketing exec. I mean, I’m a Pirelli guy. I have been from way back. Although I would say that a Goodyear is probably a more practical choice for Chicago winters.”
He spots a framed photo over the desk of a zen garden he recognizes as the Philosopher’s Walk in Kyoto. According to a director Richie likes, William Friedkin (I’m guessing his fave is The French Connection), the rocks and the combed sand around them symbolize the distance between people—“how we are, all of us, alone in this world.”
This leads Nat and Richie into a discussion about parenting that gets real real fast. She’s due in two weeks, and terrified that she’s going to infect her daughter with her own childhood PTSD. (You can’t, Nat. All you can do is try your best. This be the verse.) Despite being a wonderful father, Richie is starting to wonder whether he should be less involved in Evie’s life now that Frank and his Hartnett smile are in the picture. “I don’t wanna back off, but is it confusing for her? Everyone’s talking about how Frank is the shit. And I dunno—maybe it’s weird that I’m, like, around.” Oh, my dear sweet baby Richie. Don’t you know she adores you?
Richie is reluctant to dig deeper, and he’s saved by the bell when the phone rings. But The Bear isn’t. Turns out the Faks’ system isn’t as airtight as Neil thought it was, because The Chicago Tribune wants to set up a time to shoot photos of the restaurant. When Richie and Nat tell the kitchen gang, Sydney puts two and two together: Not only is The Trib reviewing them—they already have. The opening lines of Weezer’s “Getchoo,” which plays over the credits, say it all: “This is beginning to hurt / This is beginning to be serious….”
Stray observations
- The music supervisors pulled out all the stops for “Violet.” Hot needle drops include the Cocteau Twins’ dreamy “Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops” and Brian Eno and John Cale’s airy “Spinning Away.”
- Tina rediscovers her love of great ingredients on a trip to pick up fresh veggies from Jacobson Farms, smiling beatifically as she inhales the aroma of smoked garlic. But it’s not all stinky roses: In a reminder of the toll climate change is taking on small farms, the proprietor tells T that the growing season is getting shorter, thinning out the veg selection a little more each year.
- Matty Matheson once again gives us the laugh-out-loud moment of the episode. He coaxes Carmy into the office by bellowing, “JUST COME IN HERE BECAUSE IT’S NICE IN HERE! HELP US HELP YOU!” (Also, it’s awesome that Ted is working at The Bear now. The way these two play off each other is pure gold.)
- The writers clearly had a blast putting together Neil and Teddy’s notes about the food critics: “She’s hot. We like her. Seems nice?” “Likes to BLAST his phone flashlight on the menu.” “Grew up rich. Spent a lot of time eatin’ bass.” “She wrote a couple food books. Didn’t read ’em, though.”
- In case you were wondering what kind of animals the Jerimoviches would like to be: Evie opts for “mer-horse,” but Richie’s knee-jerk answer is caterpillar, which he changes to fox because “they’re so pretty.”
- Storm clouds are gathering on the horizon: Not only is Donna coming to Tiffany and Frank’s wedding, but she’s also been bugging Pete (Chris Witaske) about seeing Nat before the baby is born. “What’s that saying? Find Dee-Dee before Dee-Dee finds you.”
- Ebraheim is continuing to flounder at the sandwich window without any support. Chi-Chi rolls up to offer some unsolicited advice: Make the sandos “fluffy, not stuffy,” and lose the plastic trays. When he says that, back in the day, the production line at The Original Beef ran like General Hospital, Ebraheim replies darkly, “I worked in a hospital once. Many people died.”