Enjoy Every Sandwich

The Bear returns to our screens this June which has prompted some thoughts about purpose and sandwiches.

A promotional image from The Bear courtesy of FX

In case you’ve been living under a rock, The Bear is a TV show about hot chef Carmy “The Bear” Berzatto, who returns home to take over his recently deceased brother’s ailing sandwich shop, The Original Beef of Chicagoland. Carmy has been working in the rarified air of Michelin level dining and tries to bring some professionalism to The Beef, with the help of a richly drawn (and beautifully performed) cast of supporting characters. Comedy and chaos ensues in equal measure. 

“Yo, you ever think about purpose?” - Richie Jerimovich. The Bear Season 2, Episode 1 “Beef”. 

But, more than anything else, The Bear is a show about purpose. If there was any doubt about that, it was dispelled at the start of its second series with the line above. Richie, the antagonistic de facto manager of The Beef asks Carmy this question, because deep down he knows the answer. Because everyone in The Bear is trying to find their purpose, mostly in the wrong place. 

“Young people in Europe and North America in particular, but increasingly throughout the world, are being psychologically prepared for useless jobs, trained in how to pretend to work, and then by various means shepherded into jobs that almost nobody really believes serve any meaningful purpose.” - David Graeber, Bullshit Jobs. 

The idea of work as aspirational is a modern aberration. Under capitalism, the commodification of labour-power is essential to maintaining the system. To this end, in a short space of time, society has been tricked into believing that idleness is immoral. This has created the conditions for hyper production and consumption, to the detriment of our environment and our sanity. To perpetuate this further, an even dirtier trick has been played on us all. The myth that productive work equates to a high moral value and provides people with purpose. These tricks and myths fuel solipsistic and atomised societies, undermining communities, and cause psychic pain for everyone involved. Which brings us to the professional kitchen. 

“Other animals do not need a purpose in life. A contradiction to itself, the human animal cannot live without one.” John Gray, Straw Dogs

Pretty much everybody in the orbit of The Beef is experiencing profound grief and loss. Death, marital breakdowns, alienation, physical and mental health crises - these are people with a lot going on before beginning to think about work. When they are at work, making sandwiches is serious business. But, despite the commitment to their craft, work is not their purpose. Ultimately The Beef is part of a community and its staff are an integral part of that ecosystem, not because of their productivity, but because that’s how communities function.  

If Carmy understands this, he’s forgotten it somewhere along the way. In the final episode of season one The Beef is handed a financial lifeline (drenched in tomato sauce and magical thinking), that rescues the restaurant from the brink. In season two Carmy’s attempt to professionalise The Beef has morphed into an ambition that extends beyond its humble surroundings, and possibly the capabilities of the team around him. With the exception of sous-chef Sydney, who works on the menu, everyone else is sent away to hone their craft. Carmy, meanwhile, rekindles a childhood romance with grounded pixie dream doctor Claire. 

Carmy’s plan is to give his team a sense of purpose, by helping them excel in their work, doesn’t pan out that way. Sure, Richie is quoting Herman Hesse to his waiting staff by the end of the season, but all of his efforts to change are in service of being a more present father. While excelling at culinary school, Tina becomes a leader in her own right. Marcus has the adventure of a lifetime in Copenhagen, but everything he loves and cares about is back in Chicago. Everybody has gained renewed pride in their work, but it doesn’t define them. 

“A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” - Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan

Carmy is the personification of psychic pain. He’s tried to escape his inherited traumas and neuroses through the pursuit of excellence, at the cost of building any meaningful relationships. People can’t hurt you, if you don’t let them get close enough. As season two develops and he realises his love for Claire, his interest in the restaurant slips. If every second counts, the choice between spending those seconds nurturing professional excellence or the love of your life shouldn’t come into question. But in a system that forces people to equate their labour-power with purpose, it’s a genuine conundrum for many. As the season reaches its excruciating climax, The Beef reopens as The Bear - a much classier proposition. Thanks to Chekov’s door handle, Carmy is locked in a freezer, while service goes on without him, ranting that his relationship has taken him away from his real purpose, 

“What the fսck was I thinking? Like I was gonna be in a relationship? I'm a fսckin'... I'm a fսckin' psycho. That's why. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fսckin' bullshit, right? I could, I could focus and I could concentrate and I had a routine and-and I had fսckin' cell reception and… I don't need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don't need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I'm completely fine with that. Because no amount of good is worth how terrible this feels. It's just a complete waste of fսckin' time.”

Claire is on the other side of the freezer door, devastated. 

In Bullshit Jobs, David Graeber mentions “short-order” chefs and medical professionals among only a handful of professions that aren’t bullshit. Of the two, Claire definitely performs the more meaningful work but, as far as we can tell (so far her character is thinly drawn compared to the rest of the ensemble), she’s under no illusion that it’s her purpose. So it must be extra painful that her love is “bullshit” in the eyes of a guy who mistakenly believes that his purpose is preparing uniformly pretty plates of food that can be eaten in a mouthful, for the price of at least two sandwiches. 

“Enjoy every sandwich.” - Warren Zevon

In the trailer for season three, Carmy is laying out a set of “non-negotiables” for the restaurant, including “constantly evolve through creativity” and “vibrant collaboration”. It’s the kind of language one might expect to hear at a tech start-up, rather than a kitchen. This is hospitality in the age of the iPhone. Thankfully not everyone is on board and the smash cuts reveal a montage of all the smart dialogue and fiery confrontation that we’ve come to expect from the show. 

Whether or not Carmy learns his real purpose remains to be seen. More than anything, my main hope is that they go back to just serving sandwiches. Because a good sandwich crosses all divides. A good sandwich is universally loved and savoured. Food brings communities together the world over, the importance of this fact is heightened during times of great division. So if a chef is looking for purpose in their work, what could be more fulfilling than serving their community with delicious, heaving sandwiches that don’t cost the earth.