(Editor’s Note: Episode eight recap will be posted on July 8. This recap contains spoilers.)
Even the most legendary TV series have fallen victim to the dreaded mid-season slump. And it turns out that even a series as well-crafted as The bear isn’t immune. Maybe that’s because Season 3 lacks the propulsive momentum of the previous chapter, when everyone was working toward a common goal under a tight deadline. But now that The Bear is up and running, the fire under the gang’s collective asses has dimmed. Which brings us to the disjointed, meandering “Legacy,” an episode that’s as unenergized as its characters seem.
Carmy is once again dreaming of old times with Claire (without actually reaching out to her); Sydney continues to grow fed up with her creative partner’s inability to, you know, partner with her creatively; and Richie’s dogged positivity has darkened in the shadow of Ever’s impending closure, not to mention Tiff and Frank’s upcoming nuptials.
Meanwhile, Natalie, the mom-to-be, continues to play the role of surrogate mother to all the adults at the Bear. She’s there when Richie needs a pep talk, or when someone needs to nag Syd into signing that damn partnership agreement already (more on that later). But mostly, everyone asks her to restock the damn C-fold paper towels. For those who have never done inventory in the restaurant industry, that’s industry jargon for those pre-folded paper towels that are found in every public restroom—and, apparently, every professional kitchen—in America.
Nat’s impending due date is one of several plot threads still hanging at this point in the season. There’s also the elusive restaurant review of THE Tribune, The ongoing cold war between Carm and Richie, Ever’s “funeral,” and the question of when Donna will make her long-awaited return to her children’s lives.
“Legacy” at least resolves the most pressing plot point. By the time Nat insists on driving to the Depot Restaurant alone, it’s almost inevitable that her water will break before the half-hour is up. When Nat starts balancing giant boxes of C-folds on her round belly so she can cram them into the trunk of her car, we know this kid is coming.
Elsewhere in the box, Sydney is now just as fed up as Carmy with the staff’s disobedience of the “take down all empty boxes” rule. That afternoon, she too has a nervous breakdown while knee-deep in the dumpster. (You could say Ayo Edebiri had a Down– explosion style with this particular piece of burlesque.)
You know where Syd wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of bullshit? Adam Shapiro’s new restaurant. Before she heads to work, she meets Ever’s former executive chef for lunch at Doma Café, where he makes her the offer of a lifetime: He has the financial backing to open his own restaurant, and he wants Syd to be his CDC. When she asks him what kind of vibe he wants to create, he tells her, “Whatever you want it to be.”
The starting salary of $80,000 is a little lowbut I bet it’s a lot more than she makes at the Bear. Adam says he wants to start over, not carry on Ever’s legacy. That’s fair, but given how much Chef Terry’s restaurant has meant to so many, his philosophy seems a little short-sighted.
While searching for inspiration in another of Carm’s journals (I would too, they are truly works of art), Marcus comes across a photo of a group of chefs, captured in a half-pose, half-laughing moment. Among them are three legends: Nobu Matsuhisa, Daniel Boulud, and Thomas Keller. It’s the kind of shot that makes you want to be there; you can practically see the golden thread that connects these guys to each other.
Carmy says he took this photo from a magazine, though we know he worked under Boulud and Keller. He explains that for him, photography is all about legacy: chefs mentor and collaborate with other chefs, share recipes with each other, foster an ethic and aesthetic that is passed down from restaurant to restaurant. Colleagues come and go, but they always leave you with something; and then, in turn, you take a piece of that something to the next person you work with.
Syd interrupts the conversation at that point, having just heard Carmy say the same word Adam did an hour ago. (It’s so crazy! It’s almost like they’re characters in the same TV episode.) When Marcus asks Carm what legacy he wants to leave, he offers an answer that only a Berzattos kid could give: “No panic. No anxiety. I think to achieve that, I’d have to be in tune with everything and everyone.” Like any goal this man sets for himself, it’s completely unattainable.
Marcus’s response is further proof that he’s the best of the bunch: he wants to be remembered as a positive, hard-working, honest, and attentive person, but also as someone who’s “pleasant to be around and a great contact in an emergency.” The discussion leaves Sydney with plenty to think about: is it better, like Adam, to start fresh, or, like Carmy, to plant your life’s work in the soil of those who came before him?
Inheritance is a nice idea, but in practice, being too obsessed with inheritance can be a trap. Syd witnesses this firsthand when, once again, Carm sets the menu without her input. Her single-minded quest for perfection is fueled by all the ghosts in her head, living and dead: her abusive ex-boss, her abusive mother, her abusive brother.
Perhaps it would be best to throw away all those ethereal notebooks and start over with a clean, blank page. This far into Carmy’s labyrinth, it may be the only way for Syd to begin building her own legacy.
Scattered observations
- This episode also gives us a glimpse into Richie’s notebook, which is as disorganized and unkempt as Carmy’s is immaculate. The only illustration inside? A crude drawing of a bloated head with a mop of curly hair proclaiming, “I AM CARMY CHEF! LOVE ME!” Find healthy outlets for your anger wherever you can, Rich.
- Carm goes to an Al-Anon meeting for the first time this season, where he listens to a woman give a speech he could certainly stand to hear: “Apologizing seems easy. It’s just a few words stuck in the back of your throat, and you have to get them out. But if you don’t let them out quickly, those words sink deeper and deeper into you until you can’t find them anymore.”
- We need to talk about The bearFak’s problem is that he only gets worse. Throughout the episode, Christopher Storer butts in on the brothers’ jokes about being “haunted,” a practice we’ve heard plenty about already. They also get a visit from their uncle Gary (Bill Reilly), who, while funny, seems like a complete non-sequitur. But the main problem here is that the episode grinds to a halt every time Neil and Ted hog the spotlight.
- When Nat turns on his car, an audiobook narrator discusses the five personality types exhibited by children of alcoholics: the enabler, the hero, the scapegoat, the mascot, and the lost child. Natalie, a classic enabler, recites the words in unison with the recording before turning off the stereo. As for the other Berzatto children, it’s a safe bet that Mikey is the mascot and Carmy is the lost child.
- Dear Restaurant Depot Employees: Did any of you think it would be a good idea to help the heavily pregnant lady with her giant boxes of paper towels?
- At least one thing is going very well at the Bear: the sandwich stand. The partners finally call on original Beef OGs Chi-Chi (Chris Zucchero) and Chuckie (Paulie James) to help Ebraheim out — and to the scorching beat of the Beastie Boys’ “Fight for Your Right,” the trio falls into an effortless rhythm. Chi-Chi restores the system that made The Beef work in the first place; and as he and Chuckie talk shit about customers who dare order their sandwiches with mayonnaise, Ebra grins from ear to ear.
- Do we think Adam is actually a good guy? Sure, he seems competent and smart, and he rightly recognizes Sydney’s talents as a leader and a boss. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is all some kind of elaborate plan to screw over Carmy.
- How come this is the first time I’ve noticed that the family-owned Faks supply business is called “Matter of Fak”? Great job, boss.