Quality and Innovation

Confession: When I originally viewed The Bear (Season 1) last year, I thought it was “just OK.” It’s a drama that centers around a group of 8 people who work in a restaurant, and I’ve never worked in a restaurant. I had little to relate to. Plus, the excellent cinematography helps viewers feel the panic, the chaos, the always-on tension of playing an active role in an industrial kitchen… to be honest, the show kind of stressed me out.

But there’s one subject I think about All. The. Time. and that’s quality and performance excellence. So I’m particularly relieved that I dove in to watch Season 2, because all I can say is: this season is perfection.

(If you haven’t watched Season 1 or 2 yet, there will be spoilers in the remainder of this post. Go watch it on Hulu, come back and finish this post, and then we can talk about what you learned in the comments.)

Season 1 starts as Carmy, the main character, returns to Chicago after the unexpected suicide of his brother Mikey, who ran a gritty neighborhood restaurant called “The Original Beef of Chicagoland” – a long-time community favorite. Mikey has left the restaurant to his brother, an award-winning chef from a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York, entrusting him to take up the helm at the head of the family business. While the family is proud of his accomplishments and happy he’s returned, there are clearly tense family dynamics and a lingering sense of betrayal that he had left Chicago while they remained stuck there.

As soon as Carmy arrives at The Beef, there’s a palpable power differential: While Carmy is in charge, he’s new. The entire rest of the staff has been there for months already, maybe years, and have habits and routines of their own. They’re accustomed to doing their own thing, figuring things out as they go along, and bristle at Carmy’s attempt to manage. On his own, he’s brought in an unpaid intern, a talented young chef named Sydney who’s trained at some of the most reputable places in town and, admiring Carmy’s reputation, wants to work with him… even if it’s at the sandwich shop her father’s been going to for years, and not a fine dining establishment.

Carmy and Sydney are accustomed to an entirely different mode of operation than the old timers at The Beef; his quality and performance standards are much, much higher. The performance differential sets up a cultural rift: the previous staff, in particular “Cousin Richie” (who’s not actually a cousin), get the sense that Carmy and Sydney think they’re better than everyone else (even though they just want the staff to learn and grow). The tension is particularly high with Tina, a long-time restaurant worker who’s not particularly enthusiastic about change, but had been committed to brother Mikey’s establishment and wanted it to succeed.

Soon, they notice Carmy doing strange things: being particular about his, and their, methods for prepping and cooking; cleaning with a toothbrush; rigorous routines, for things they didn’t see the value in. “It’s about consistency,” he says, “You can’t operate at a higher level without it.” His experiences training under world class chefs has opened his eyes to what is possible, and he aspires to the excellence that he observed.

Carmy sees the performance gap between his team and himself, but also sees the performance gap between his own level of performance and where he aspires to be. He meets them where they are, because he knows they’re not emotionally ready for breakthrough improvements, and The Beef isn’t exactly a candidate for Michelin stars. He models the desired behaviors, and never relents: each day, every day, in his interactions with every person, he calls out performance gaps and sets the expectation that he won’t compromise on quality. Meanwhile, they get to observe Sydney’s higher standards, and how Carmy responds – and builds on – her work.

Gradually, and with much pain and friction, the team works out practices that are acceptable enough for Carmy, at least for the time being. He finds he’s got bigger problems: the financial state of the business wasn’t as stable as he was originally led to believe, and the restaurant is struggling. They try experimenting: new recipes, new menu items, and “take out” – but each potential new path fails. He finds out that he’s deep in debt to the Mob, and even if he could pay it off, the restaurant is unlikely to survive. Tension rises – and in a moment of exhaustion, Carmy berates Sydney for minor issues, reminiscent of the abusive treatment he received from his primary mentor. Sydney’s not going to put up with that… she quits, leaving him with even more tasks to do to keep the restaurant afloat.

While Season 1 culminates with Carmy finding hundreds of thousands of dollars stashed in tomato sauce cans that he can use to repay his debt to the Mob, there’s still not enough liquidity for him to keep The Beef in operation. But the team has an idea: they’re ready for the next step, and they want to do it together. Sydney returns at just the right moment to rejoin the crew, who hangs a sign on the door announcing that “The Bear” is coming soon.

Season 2 is all about transformation: building habits and practices that reflect a new understanding of quality standards, and a dedication to excellence and continuous improvement. Marcus, the pastry chef, heads to Copenhagen to study under a master. Tina heads to chef school. And cantankerous Richie (who, it appears, feels like he’s so battle-worn and experienced he doesn’t need any chef school) is assigned to one of Chicago’s best restaurants (called “Ever” – it actually exists) for shadowing. He resists, complains, lashes out… considers quitting. After a few days of rudely resisting his mentors’ attempts to level him up, he decides to accept his “punishment” – but in a moment of “wax on, wax off” has an epiphany and sees how good it feels to embrace quality in a new way. He finds his best self, and becomes a warm, attentive colleague, tuning into a talent of connecting with people that we hadn’t yet seen (but Carmy was clearly aware of, and waiting for its resurrection).

Meanwhile, the building itself transforms in ways that mirror the psychological transformations: walls are torn down, and walls fall down on their own (forcing a vulnerability that the characters aren’t quite ready for). Mold pours out of the ceiling, and all over Richie. The fire suppression system has been tampered with and is no longer functional, and the team has to reverse the damage to get the license to operate. Floors are shined; cozy new lighting is installed. Tables are tightened. A gift arrives in the mail from Denmark, and Marcus hangs it – an “Every Second Counts” sign – under the clock in the kitchen to remind everyone of their shared strategy for banding together in times of crisis to remember their goals.

The team manages to band together for a “Friends and Family” opening night that ends up being… mostly successful. Carmy gets locked in the walk-in refrigerator when the handle breaks off, clearly some karma for his resistance to handing off the “call fridge guy” task to literally anyone else for three months. In a fit of shame and self-flagellation he vocally expresses his regret about prioritizing a new girlfriend over his restaurant, but she’s been listening to his diatribe the whole time…

So we’re well set up for another season, where the characters realize that even though they’ve been through training, they don’t have things figured out just yet, and building a quality culture takes lots of time and a ton of shared dedication. This is probably the best series with a quality theme that I’ve ever seen, and certainly the best of any restaurant show I can think of (Alice, SpongeBob, and the sequel to Three’s Company).

I’m looking forward to Season 3, where I can follow the stories of each person connected to The Bear as they get to know the new quality standards more intimately, and recognize that excellence is a journey, not a destination.