Photo: Chuck Hodes/FX
It’s make-or-break time for the staff of the Bear. In “Bolognese,” the booths are in, the fixtures are up, the pans are being delivered, and the kitchen staff has been hired. Tina’s back from school, Marcus is back from Denmark, and even Ebra has returned, though we’ll get to that in a bit.
First, we should talk about Carmy and Claire. Things have progressed so swimmingly that she’s waking up in his apartment and walking around in one of his T-shirts and some very cute underwear. He’s little enough that he can sit on his tiny kitchen counters, and that’s where she finds him, stressed to the max about their NICET level-two fire-suppression exam. He clues her in on what that test entails — some sodium and potassium bicarbonate, a gas-line shutoff — and she calms him down both about that and about how he’s clearly waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop in their relationship. (“Want to know a secret?” she says. “Nobody’s keeping track of shoes.”) They exchange kisses and comments about how attractive each of them finds the other, then we’re off to the Bear.
That’s where we find Ebra, skulking up to the drive-through window as Tina stocks it. They engage in some coded chatter about how “There used to be a good restaurant here. What happened to it?” She quips back that she heard that “there were too many old bitches here who couldn’t hack it,” to which he responds, “Maybe some old bitches liked their old ways, were happy where they were, and didn’t want to change, because they were scared and afraid.” Tina says that, sure, that’s how “an old bitch” would think, “but that’s why they surround themselves with bad motherfuckers who take care of them.”
Ultimately, Tina lets Ebra know that the window she’s behind is actually going to be that beef outlet Carmy talked about so that locals won’t have to miss out on their old favorites — and aren’t gentrified out of one of their spots. It’ll be open during the day, and the team needs someone to run it. Would Ebra maybe be available, since he knows all the old ways and recipes? He doesn’t have to be “top Jeff,” but he would have to stick around. He agrees, and later, we get to see him stocking the area with rolls, his gear, and even a pic of himself, Mikey, and Tina with a little bit of a charred corner.
Sydney, as we come to find out, has bought fully into the Coach K philosophy and is trying to surround herself with a winning team. She’s leading with heart and helping Carmy chug Pepto, and while they can still butt heads from time to time, especially when it comes to menu planning and his vague sketchiness, they’re both in the business for the long haul. I still think she should get some sort of partner agreement in writing, but hopefully, Natalie can make that happen.
When Richie comes in the restaurant, he’s wearing a suit — a fact that gets mentioned about 15 more times in the episode. He’s a suit guy now, it seems, because he says it makes him feel better, which is cute. It leaves an opening for Carmy to make a Blues Brothers reference, which is required by law for any show set in Chicago, so you can check that off the list now.
Back in the pastry kitchen, Marcus has whipped up something with dextrose and gelatin, and while it’s unclear what it really is — Is that caviar on top? — both Sydney and Carmy are blown away. It’s the first of three desserts he’s going to deliver, so I can’t wait to see where he goes from here. It seems like he’s onboard with helping Carmy execute his savory cannolis, which he’s using as a sort of spiritual reboot to his mom’s old Christmas cannolis and which sound fucking amazing. Mortadella mousse and a parmesan shell? I don’t know if they even exist, and I could eat about 100.
When Tina’s new staff members arrive, they’re tasked with cleaning produce and stocking low boys. It’s very Dazed and Confused as she looks them up and down outside before quipping, “Let’s go, freshmen,” and I love that kind of energy for her. I also love that they all chime in with a “yes, chef” right back, because fucking-A right, she’s a chef now. She deserves that respect, and she has earned it.
Richie asks if he can chat with Natalie in her very nice new office, telling her he’d like to apologize. She grabs Gary, who just happens to be outside the door, saying she needs a witness to the whole phenomenon. Richie then delivers what turns out to be a very sincere, nice, overdue apology that reveals a level of newfound self-awareness that’s frankly shocking, considering he was only away staging for a week: “I think, for a long time, I didn’t really know where I fit, and I would shove myself into situations and places where I definitely did not, and that made things worse,” Richie says. “I’m sorry if I took anything out on you and if I treated you like shit, because I actually do think that we could fit good together, because I could be good at things you don’t want to do, and you’re great at things that I don’t know how to do.” After a brief interruption from Fak, who asks if his sister Franzie can come to Friends and Family — a query that gets a resounding “no” from Natalie “because of the thing” — Natalie decides to take Richie’s apology, not just because it was heartfelt but because they both really, really need the restaurant to work.
Natalie and Richie’s tag-team adventure begins a few scenes later, when they’re interviewing front-of-house staff. A candidate comes in who seems good and whom Natalie is keen to hire, but Richie throws down a veto, because the server didn’t notice the askew napkin he’d placed in front of her, and as Richie explains, that means she doesn’t have the attention to detail they’re going to need. He’d be going nuts if there was a napkin at a table he was sitting at — a fact that not only shocks Natalie but lets her know that new Richie is here, and he’s not a total fuck-up anymore.
After a little back-and-forth about Carmy’s lovely food drawing, Sydney pops off at him for mentioning how much Claire has helped clear things up about the menu. It’s an understandable reaction, because it’s not like he’s giving Sydney a lot of credit here, and who the fuck is this Claire person to step into this space, but Sydney quickly realizes that a happy, healthy Carmy can only be good for the restaurant. Sydney says Carmy does, however, have to decide if Claire is his girlfriend or just “a friend who’s a girl” — a phrase that no one has said since mid-’90s sitcoms. Sydney rightly tells him he’s being shitty to even consider the latter, and he tells her that he doesn’t want to be shitty, to which she retorts, “So don’t be.” Later on in the pantry, Carmy floats the girlfriend idea by Fak, who asks how much he loves her, to which Carmy replies, “I love her a lot,” so, yeah, dude. That’s a girlfriend.
Richie and Sydney seem to come to an understanding spurred, in part, by the fact that they’re both only children who have been taken in, in a way, by the Berzatto family. Richie brings up Mikey’s “I love you, dude. Let it rip” note, which he says Carmy thought would be nice on the line, and they set it there in a frame next to expo. It’s a very sweet note, and if you were going to get a The Bear tattoo, “let it rip” wouldn’t be a bad phrase to start with. It would certainly be better than Carmy’s weirdly spaced “773,” which didn’t even start to be used in Chicago until the mid-’90s, and even then, just for the area outside of the city proper. But I digress!
Then Natalie has a brief run-in with Uncle Cicero bitching about interest rates and how, really, they’d only make “okay” money if he had to sell the building. They absolutely have to open in ten days, he says, lest interest rates go through the roof and the business gets absolutely hammered on taxes. Everything rests on the fire inspection later that day, and things are looking dire until Fak figures out from Ebra’s charred picture that Mikey, out of his mind on drugs and pursuing the very non-PC idea of “Jewish lightning,” disabled the restaurant’s existing fire-suppression system in an attempt to burn it down and collect the insurance money. Richie tells Fak to “make it so” and find the fix, and, as we find out when the inspector actually comes and does that glove test, Fak actually does make the fix. They get their certificate, and they can actually open in ten days — barring any other total disasters.
But first, Carmy says, he’s got to slip off. He’s “gotta call his girlfriend,” who’s off saving lives at the hospital and whom he’s finally, finally making dinner for — something that, if you remember, no significant other has ever done for her. He’s showing her he cares in the way he best knows how, and she rewards him with a hug and a kiss. At this point, if these two ran off and got married, I wouldn’t be mad. They seem endgame already — even if Carmy didn’t know if she was his girlfriend.
• What exactly is Marcus making with that focaccia? Is that tomato sauce on top like a tomato bread or something? I have queries, and I’m starving.
• Why doesn’t anyone I know have a cool prosciutto hookup? The indignity!
