Note: This contains very light spoilers from Seasons 2 and 3, but none that would hamper your experience of the show.
Journalism, even the relatively lighthearted task of writing about food and restaurants, can be grueling from time to time. This is why escapism matters so much when it comes to my choices of entertainment. Whether it's soaring through space in a video game or following the adventures of an aloof manchild in fictional television series, disconnecting from work, and often the art that delves into restaurant-focused pop culture, is essential. That's why you won't find me pining over reality TV cooking competitions.
Then, there's the matter of The Bear, which debuted its third season on Wednesday, June 26, via Hulu. The FX-produced show sits squarely at the intersection of Chicago and restaurants. As the editor of Eater Chicago, I tried to resist by ignoring Season 1. I ignored the hot takes from angry locals who complained about the show's portrayal of Chicago. I avoided the noise until I found myself bored at my in-laws in suburban Detroit in July 2022. Within the first few seconds of tuning in, I heard a familiar guitar riff belonging to the "semi-obscure" Swedish band Refused. It demanded further investigation. In about one week, I finished Season 1. Then, my wife and I had a baby. When Season 2 unfurled last year, I convinced my wife to watch every episode in one sitting as a momentary indulgence of our now-scarce free time. It made us feel more alive to be up until 2 a.m. without the infant to blame. What better show for us to hang onto than one that could assuage our concerns over the quality of our newly enacted parenting habits or reinforce my gratitude for not being on the reporting beat than one that embodies the worst of both? This week, we binged Season 3 on the night it debuted, but my wife left my side after Episode 7. Sometimes I doubt her commitment to Sparkle Motion.
Still, my reporter's brain stays on — hence the aforementioned need for escapism — and I keep a mental flowchart of sorts mapping out the degrees of separation between The Bear's fictional universe and my own Chicago-rooted reality. As proven by the many sweeping shots of locally beloved steaming beef sandwiches that studded the first season, creator Christopher Storer is plugged into the city's restaurant community, and there are certain storylines inspired by the chefs and staff I cover daily. Over the past few years, quick texts or DMs consistently offered confirmation. After seeing Publican Quality Meats butcher Rob Levitt's cameo in Season 2, Episode 3, I messaged him and asked how much he ad-libbed. He responded that his lines were directly inspired by a sour business deal with a former restaurant partner. He wasn't really acting. Maybe that's the key detail that makes the show so brutal to watch this time around — and so evocative: It brings an unquestioned exaltation to the heart of an often brutal industry. In doing so, it mires its viewers in the same disorienting, overstimulating, and conflict-packed chaos that Carmy is experiencing. There are brutally vulnerable exchanges that anyone giving everything in pursuit of a goal can relate to, but it rarely provides the closure or resolution that viewers at home crave.
Some of the most meaningful exchanges I have with the restaurant community are about things that have little to do with the characters' jobs. They're about Jamie Lee Curtis's stunning performance in the Christmas episode, why viewers saw more White Sox caps versus Cubs caps in Season 1 (spoiler: there are zero Cubs caps in Season 3) or examples of the cast's kindness — Ever's Michael Muser tells me he saw Olivia Colman constantly apologizing to Jeremy Allen White in between takes after Colman's chef Terry brutalized White's Carmy with criticism in Season 3, which was filmed at Muser's two-Michelin-starred restaurant.
Need a refresher? Eater Chicago breaks down everything you need to know here. | FX/Chuck Hodes
In 2022, I interviewed White in the lobby of the Pendry Chicago. Sure, the rumors and conspiracies around SydCarmy came up (and were promptly dismissed), but the topic with the most urgency had little to do with love interests. As we wrapped up, White — unprompted — asked me about how locals were receiving the show. He was sincere, his voice full of uncertainty. Going into the event, I'd known a few knee-jerk reactions were circulating on the internet condemning the show, saying it wasn't an accurate representation of Chicago. White conveyed genuine concern and also defended Storer, saying that the show represented the creator's experiences. Whether you loved or loathed the newest season of the show, especially as its fixation on the machinations of being or feeling unlovable in pursuit of excellence intensifies, one thing remains the same: Storer's experiences and aspirations are as valid as anyone else's. Maybe Season 4, likely the ultimate chapter, can balance the tender sincerity at Chicago's core with the grit, trauma, and eerie blue lighting that often overshadow the city.
— Ashok Selvam, Eater Chicago editor
"The Bear" is back. Read our review of the season here. | VALERIE MACON/AFP via Getty Images
