The Secret Ingredient of FX’s show, “The Bear”.

Throwing us into the pressure cooker of commercial kitchens, the inner workings of the food industry, and well, the Berzatto family, The Bear dances on the line between control and chaos, yet it’s grounded in moments of tenderness. 

Season two of The Bear is an era of growth (and literal rebuild) as construction on the restaurant continues. Sydney seeks new flavors to fuel the menu, Marcus travels to Copenhagen to master the art of desserts, and Richie stages. Reflectively, it’s a story of Sydney rekindling her relationship with her father, Marcus caring for his terminally ill mother, and Richie finding purpose.

In this essay, I will explore how external environments and experiences in episode seven, “Forks”, shape Richie’s perception in work and relationships.

Episode one intrudes on a moment of introspection between Richie and Carmy, “Yo, you ever think about purpose?” continuing, “I’m trying to learn who I am to my history.” He describes a story he’s reading with “this dude who has no skills, no personality, nothin’” and “one day out of the blue, they drop [him]”. His attachment to this particular fictional character suggests how he feels about his own life. At any given moment, he believes his family could “drop” him.

LET THE STAGING BEGIN.

Richie has the opportunity to stage (unbeknownst at one of the best restaurants in the world), yet carries the belief Carmy wants to “get rid of him.”

He grudgingly slams the alarm ringing at 5:36 in the morning, runs his hands down his face in the mirror, releases an exasperated sigh, and stalls in the car until the last possible second. Like the weight of a thousand pounds, he presses open the door of the restaurant and mumbles, “F-ck you, cousin.”

Even the tone of the episode feels jarring. The audio track reverberates off the restaurant’s walls like the hollow of a spaceship. Delicate strands of dried fruit hang from the ceiling drenched in blue monochronity. Richie bats with an arrogant hand, “Jesus, f-cking Christ.” Not even officially staging and he’s sparring with his surroundings.

Naturally, his familiar combative attitude towards work and others manifest through the mundanity of a nine-hour fork polishing shift. “You think this is below you or something?” “Man, I think I’m 45 and polishing forks.” He’s reminded to respect the craft, but more importantly, himself.

Later in the episode, his ex-partner calls and he’s quick to celebrate, “I got those Taylor Swift tix,” having three if she wanted to join. In an uncomfortable pause, she admits she is now engaged to her boyfriend, Frank. It’s impossible to miss the wedding ring Richie still wears. Bearing the weight of this news, a dark cloud forms over him as he returns to the kitchen.

Framed in a medium shot, Richie watches onward as a waiter returns to his client’s table, “I just wanted to let you know, no check tonight. Thank you so much for dining with us.” It’s not comping the bill specifically, but the reaction after that paves the way for the rest of the episode. The act in itself of hospitality is what makes the job so rewarding, it’s a cornerstone of purpose.

5:32 A.M. – Alarm ready. Jumps out of bed. Strum of music. Sleeves up and gets to work. “No more forks?” “No more forks.” Graduating from fork duty, Richie advances to trailing and a change of clothes is required. Outfitted in a sleek suit that “feels kinda like armor,” he has a newfound sense of professionalism. This “armor” as he calls it, demands respect.

Each shot only holds for a few seconds, again enforcing that urgency within the kitchen. But one thing that remains constant is a reaction shot from Richie. These extreme close-ups acknowledge to the speed at which he’s learning and adapting. He’s watching everything unfold in real-time.

The intensity of the music cools its crescendo as Garett and Richie exit the kitchen and serve the hibiscus cloud. Yet, returns to its initial intensity as Richie bellows, “CHEEEEFFFF. Guest on 9. Emily overheard her tell her family that she was bummed she was leaving Chicago without getting a chance to try the deep dish pizza.” 

“Pick up for Richard,” Returning to the kitchen with a hot pizza in hand, he slams it down for Chef. The music intensifies, striking a cord filled with curiosity, reflecting the awe Richie experiences as the deep dish pizza he delivers turns into a Michelin masterpiece. Just before the pizza “walks,” he interrupts, “Chef, can I b-bring it to the table?” The maître d’ smirks, encouraging his confidence, “Go get ‘em, Richie.” 

His spark is coming back, he feels worthy of his own presence. Post-stage, we also observe Richie cleaning up his apartment, celebrating after correctly answering quiz questions on different dishes, and reading Unreasonable Hospitality: The Power of Giving People More Than They Expect.

Although he may not have gone to Taylor Swift’s concert, “Love Story” blasts through his car’s speakers on yet another successful day of staging. It’s unexpectedly a wholesome moment for Richie, who has entered into the most transformative moment of his arc thus far.

NEVER TOO LATE.

On his final day at the restaurant, Richie meets Head Chef Terry (Olivia Colman) in a chance encounter. Peeling mushrooms! Deceptively a trivial task for someone of such importance. One would expect a person of high status to use fear or intimidation as a teaching method, but instead, Chef Terry deploys kindness and her past experience to forge a connection. Anything, as long as it’s time well spent, is worth it.

The Bear so masterfully creates these authentical character moments that humanize the show, again rooting itself in moments of tenderness. We stop seeing characters for what they are and instead see them as real, living, breathing, people with emotions. Richie’s development isn’t a complete overhaul of his character, but rather the ability to stay true to the indignant, hot-headed, loudmouth we once knew before.