Recently, my husband and I decided to answer the question, what if marriages worked like the kitchen featured in the series, ‘The Bear’?
Note: If you haven’t watched The Bear, nor ever worked a dish pit, line, or front of the house, you may not understand this blog. Watch it, and then come back. Or, keep reading and try to imagine a pack of rabid coyotes trying to build a sandcastle on a waterslide for 10 hours straight, six days a week. There. Now you know what it’s like to work in a restaurant, or at least in the kitchen depicted in The Bear. Speaking of bears, if you’ve seen Cocaine Bear, it’s like that, too, but in a kitchen.
I fondly remember my almost 20-year span of restaurant work (with a few years off for other behavior). I loved working with food. I loved all the processes involved in getting it from point A (the kitchen) to point B (the table). From prep work to setting up a serving line and, yes, even cleaning up (such a sense of satisfaction when a destroyed kitchen is clean, shiny, and restocked), I loved the work.
Watching The Bear with someone who has never worked in a restaurant, like my husband, is fun. He asks me questions, and I get to explain what’s going on or a restaurant term, etc.
“Do all restaurants change their menu every day?”
“No, not even most Michelin-starred restaurants.”
“What’s a chaos menu?”
“A menu that doesn’t have a theme or common thread going through all the dishes, like a Mexican restaurant or a seafood restaurant does.”
“Do all restaurants let the servers taste the specials before they open?”
“The ones that understand a waiter can do a better job of selling the specials if they’ve experienced them do.”
“Who decides they have to cut costs, the chef or the money guy?”
“Always the money guy. There’s fights. This part is very accurate.”
I found restaurant work challenging, fulfilling, and, most of the time, lucrative. Restaurants and bars provided my spending money in high school, helped me buy my first and second car, and allowed me to put myself through college. Of course, that’s when tuition (classes only) for a full-time schedule of 12 units at Chico State was about $350, plus books.
Back to The Bear: It’s hard to figure out who the biggest asshole is in Carmine Berzotto’s kitchen. We go back and forth. Is it Richie, or is it Carmy? During the second episode of season 3, which is particularly tense, my husband and I found ourselves on opposite sides.
“What’s Carmine’s problem?” my husband asked about halfway through the episode.
“What’s Richie’s problem?”
“Carmine’s being a dick.”
“So is Richie! He needs to shut up when he’s told to. He thinks he’s in charge.”
“Carmine needs to calm down,” my husband said, and he was right. I know that because Sydney slid right up to him at that precise moment and said, “Carmy, calm down.” And he did. But we know it’s not over. Because it’s a restaurant, and it’s The Bear.
After the episode, while we were cleaning up the kitchen, I paused as I wiped the counter.
“What if we run our marriage like Bear’s kitchen?” I said, already knowing how spectacular of an idea this was.
“Hand me that,” my husband said, pointing to the plate on the counter beside me.
“Yes, chef,” I replied, handing him the plate.
“Thank you, chef,” he said.
“Behind,” I said, sliding between him and the island to get to the dishwasher.
“Corner!” he snapped.
“You don’t yell ‘corner’ if you are just standing in one place doing the dishes; you say ‘corner’ as you come around a corner so you don’t bump into someone.”
“Fuck you!” my husband yelled, doing his best impersonation of mad Richie.
“Fuck YOU!” I said, even louder and absolutely nailing my impersonation of Carmy.
“NO, fuck you!”
“No, FUCK YOU!”
“No, FUCK YOU, YOU FUCK!” I said as I slammed the dishwasher door shut.
“Noooo, FUCK YOU!!” my husband screamed as he opened the sliding glass door for the dog, who was now shaking.
“Thank you for putting the dog out,” I said, laughing.
“You’re welcome.”
Just like in Bear’s kitchen, the storm clouds form and the storm clouds pass. We were all in.
A few minutes later Finn appeared at the slider. My husband was back on the couch.
“Chris! The dog! The slider! NOW CHEF!”
“Can’t chef, I’m busy! You do it!!”
“Shut the fuck up and get the slider, CHEF!”
“NOOOO, YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP CHEF!!!”
Another good laugh. Ahahahaha. We were good at this!
The next day, I decided to keep it going. I came downstairs and found my husband eating cereal at the counter. I poured my coffee and sat down next to him.
“Please pass the milk,” I mumbled, pretending to still be half asleep.
“Sure, honey, just a sec—”
“FUCKING GO!!!! EVERY SECOND COUNTS, CHEF!” I screamed into his face.
As you can imagine, he wasn’t 100% on board with our new dynamic. But he will be.
I plan to test it out again tonight at bedtime.
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