The Bear season three review: A symphony of swearing and food to die for

“Asparagus with duck egg and potato raviolo, peas and parm mousse! We have a mochi with grapefruit, cauliflower and Swiss chard! And a tenderloin with mushroom and cherry jus! Is everybody good?”

Yo! Chef! And, arriving late to the idea of many as the greatest show on TV, and one of the greatest ever, I’m hoping there’s a table for me. It’s an opportune moment with Carmy Berzatto’s Chicago restaurant finally opening for business in season three, episode three of The Bear (Disney+). So can I say: don’t know where you’ve been, fools, but you’ve got to watch this.

You can tell a drama has a swagger about it, and a bucketful of clanking awards, when season three, episode one features hardly any dialogue. There’s a soundtrack of constant electronic cacophony. There’s the food prep, glorious colours sliced, diced and primped. And there’s Carmy looking like one of the Strokes or an amalgam of three of that band with his whites and his tattooed knuckles and his slightly popped-out eyes, which have to work overtime in this near-wordless flashback instalment covering training, rows, regrets and a car smashing into the side of a house.

One thing: with these crazy curls shouldn’t he be wearing a hairnet when working with food? I guess that would ruin Jeremy Allen White’s cool and the actor would never have become an international pants model superstar.

Episode two in contrast is just about all swearing: “You get f****d! … No, you get f****d! … I insist, you get f****d! … No, please, you get f****! … Absolutely you get f****d first! … Wait a second: f*** you!” This is Carmy and front-of-house Richie arguing. About everything but mostly Carmy’s list of “non-negotiables” for the eaterie - “Less is more … Vibrant collaboration … Push boundaries” - which could also apply to Christopher Storer’s drama.

It’s a symphony of expletives. There’s a real symphony thundering in the background but unfortunately the music goes uncredited. I don’t often hang around at the end to check the names of the editors but Joanna Naugle and Adam Epstein deserve the highest praise and presumably they work with the sharpest of Sabatiers like everyone behind the bump-door.

There are Michelin star insults in The Bear: “Chef Carmer uses power phrases because he’s a baby replicant who has not self-actualised.” There are Michelin star moments of rage: “I have a bill in my hand for 11,268 dollars for butter. What’s it come from: the f*****g rare Transylvanian five-t*tted goat?”

If the restaurant doesn’t run out of money, it’s going to acquire a star for real. This is why Carmy insists on changing the menu every day. Why every serving must be to the highest standards (“Refire please! … No, plate that s***! … If it’s not perfect it doesn’t go out!”).

When food is tossed in the bin you will shout at the screen, as I do: “Give it here!” When the kitchen seems about to spontaneously combust, you will feel like screaming, and only the sensuous glooping of sauce on a plate will soothe you. If you don’t already, you will love The Bear. All ten episodes screen from today. “Happy Thursday! Fire duck! Fire wagyu! How long halibut? Chef! Doors!”