Best Episodes Of The Bear (So Far) Ranked

Few shows in recent years have catapulted as quickly into the zeitgeist as “The Bear.” Debuting in June 2022, just as restaurants were beginning to revive in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the first season of the high-stress restaurant dramedy was instantly recognized as must-see TV. The show has since won a boatload of awards, including Emmys for stars Jeremy Allen White, Ayo Edebiri, and Ebon Moss-Bachrach.

It also dropped two follow-up seasons with a quick turnaround time for a streaming series. For 3 years running now, TV buffs have spent their summer months discussing the epic highs and lows of the restaurant formerly known as The Original Beef of Chicagoland. While the show’s second season was as widely praised as the first, its most recent endeavor garnered some mixed feedback among fans and critics — and revealed some weak spots in the show that may have been there all along. Still, “The Bear” is responsible for some of the most singularly great episodes of TV this decade, pulling off star-studded cameo-fests, loving and introspective foodie stories, and a bold real-time chapter that put the show on the radar of film geeks everywhere. Here are the show’s six best episodes to date.

The quietest major cameo of “The Bear” season 2 is also one of its best. Over the course of the dreamy 29-minute episode “Honeydew,” pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) apprentices under a cool, calm, and collected culinary artist played by none other than “Midsommar” and “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3” star Will Poulter. Poulter’s Luca is one of the most compelling of the fictional chefs on the show. Although he trained alongside Carmy (White), he came away with a more balanced approach to cooking — one that involves discipline without all the screaming. He’s also perhaps the most effortlessly charming character Poulter has ever played, making his season 3 return incredibly welcome.

The episode proved (for the first time, but not the last) that the chaos of “The Bear” is at its best when countered by moments of quiet determination. On the surface, not much happens in this Copenhagen-set detour, yet it relays the show’s sincere love of food and cooking better than most others, and leaves viewers with the same level of satisfaction Marcus has when he successfully conquers three complex dessert recipes. Each moment is elevated by the cinematic eye of guest director Ramy Youssef, who captures the love and precision of Luca’s kitchen with his own sense of love and precision.

Ayo Edebiri’s directorial debut is the highlight of “The Bear” season 3. “Napkins” serves as a sort of origin story for amiable yet no-nonsense sous chef Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), a fan favorite character who began attending culinary school in the previous season. In the snippets of Tina’s plot the show gave us before “Napkins,” it was clear that the former line cook was adaptable yet felt out of her element among younger, more ambitious up-and-comers. Colón-Zayas plays the character as a woman who clearly dreams big, yet is painfully afraid to be seen dreaming at all.

All of this dovetails perfectly into the episode’s storyline, which sees the Tina of several years earlier land a job at The Beef after being laid off from her administrative career. Much of the episode focuses on Tina’s unsuccessful job hunt, and it’s painfully, almost unbearably relatable to anyone who’s dealt with a similarly competitive market (it gave me flashbacks to what I like to call my “72 Job Applications Summer”). When Tina finally meets the late, great Mikey over a tearstained beef sandwich, the episode takes on the air of a gold-tinged memory. Bernthal’s character is her casual, soulful savior, a guy who understands and respects her (the contrast between Mikey and Carmy here is vast!) while admitting that what he has to offer –- a gig in an abrasive, dirty kitchen –- isn’t much.

It is, though: it’s a lifeline. Like Carmy, “The Bear” sometimes struggles to wade successfully between the worlds of working-class people and highbrow elites, but it conjures up one of its most meaningful moments here by finally nailing what it could’ve been doing this whole time: telling a story of paycheck-to-paycheck realities simply and well. Add in Edebiri’s assured filmmaking and several lovely, understated performances (including one from Colón-Zayas’ real-life husband, David Zayas) and you’ve got an all-time great episode.

The emotional centerpiece of “The Bear” season 2 is the narrative equivalent of a slow-motion car crash. Taking place over the course of a Berzatto family Christmas years before the show’s premiere, “Fishes” untangles the complicated psychological web of several main characters –- Carmy’s anxiety and absence, Richie’s anger, Mikey’s pain, and Natalie’s status as cautious peacekeeper -– by introducing us to the exhaustingly dysfunctional people who raised them. The episode begins with the smattering of gossip, ribbings, and awkward small talk that make up most family meals before arranging the cast of characters around the dinner table, where things soon careen out of control.

“Fishes” garnered headlines for its overwhelming slate of guest stars, which, in addition to returning actors Jon Bernthal and Oliver Platt, include Bob Odenkirk (as an increasingly bullying uncle), Gillian Jacobs (as Richie’s ex), Sarah Paulson (as big city cousin Michelle), John Mulaney (as her partner), and Jamie Lee Curtis (as Carmy and Natalie’s mother). While the ensemble doesn’t exactly disappear into the fabric of the previously artifice-free show, Curtis’ blazing performances as a matriarch with a major mood disorder holds the entire experiment together.

Every episode Curtis appears in (“Ice Chips” and “The Bear” narrowly missed this list) is made better by her forceful, unrestrained performance, and she successfully nails the myriad nuances of an unstable character that a different story may have relegated to a simple “monstrous mom” role. Writing has never been the show’s strongest suit, but Donna Berzatto was dropped into the world of “The Bear” feeling fully formed, able to evoke empathy, fear, frustration, disgust, and exhaustion all at once. In under an hour, she helps us understand the fractured, toxic love at the show’s core, and manages to keep us rooting for her all the while. Then she drives her car through the dining room wall.

In a series that often attempts to develop its characters through imagery as much as words, the season 1 finale of “The Bear ” is an unusual instance of the show putting all its cards on the table –- and into the script. Sydney and Marcus quit in response to Carmy’s bad management, while Richie feels the beginnings of a wake-up call after being arrested for assault. “Braciole” pushes each character to an inflection point, though Carmy’s is made surprisingly literal. When his stove catches fire, he lets it burn unattended, frozen in space and time as he tries to decide between annihilation and self-preservation. It’s a great emotional metaphor, one that calls attention to the series’ most powerful and unspoken theme: the ripple effects of suicide, depression, and loss.

Throughout its first season, it seemed clear that “The Bear” could easily end in darkness, but it does something great here by choosing the light in its final moments thanks to a creative deus ex machina. Carmy finds a note from Mikey that he clearly thinks might bring closure or answers, but instead, it’s a command: “I love you, dude. Let it rip.” His final words offer a gesture of faith that Carmy desperately needs, and he also includes a recipe that leads Carmy to dozens of tomato cans full of cash.

“Braciole” isn’t just the end of “The Bear” season 1, it’s also an end of an era for the show. Carmy is alternately absent and angry in seasons 2 and 3, but he knows what he wants here, and makes Sydney the offer she deserves to get her on board with the new restaurant. It’s a fairy tale ending that’s followed by two seasons’ worth of struggles, but after eight episodes worth of unsustainably urgent restaurant drama, it’s the win the team at The Beef deserves.

The episode that put “The Bear” on the map makes the striking choice to unravel its characters in real time through a single tracking shot. “Review” features an 18-minute “oner” that sees The Beef steadily descend into chaos, culminating in Sydney’s resignation after she accidentally stabs Richie. Syd’s initial mistake –- she forgot to turn off online preorders –- is the simple yet nightmarish inciting incident for the drama, which escalates to a fever pitch as the team struggles to hold together during the lunch rush to end all lunch rushes.

In retrospect, the actual plot of “Review” feels like plenty of other episodes of “The Bear;” the season 2 finale mirrored it in an elevated setting (though things actually came together in the end), and season 3 feels like one long preorder problem. Yet, when the show was this fresh and new, “Review” solidified its place in the zeitgeist thanks to familiar restaurant-isms like “corners” and “yes, chef,” its breakneck pacing, and its willingness to lean full-tilt into the sort of raucous disastrousness that — on paper — shouldn’t make for good TV.

“Review” is great TV, though, bolstered by its kinetic camerawork and confident performances from White, Edebiri, Moss-Bachrach, and others. While later episodes felt showy for showy’s sake, the one-take approach works perfectly for the tense, breathless scenario laid out by the series’ writers. There are no moments of peaceful contemplation here, nor any attempt at emotional depth beyond the obvious, yet the episode plainly lays out one of the show’s central theses: people can either help each other or break each other, and in dire circumstances, it always feels easier to break.

If “Review” and “Fishes” invoke a sense of overwhelmed self-destruction, “Forks” is the show’s purest opposite. The episode takes the principles of those Al Anon sessions Carmy sits through –- self-forgiveness, mindfulness, control and a lack thereof –- and applies them to the show’s most hotheaded character, Richie. Carmy’s “cousin” was the funniest and meanest part of the show early on, yet by this point in season 2, he’s on the precipice of change, hoping to do right by his daughter and ex. His softening comes via the show’s most flawless episode to date.

Richie doesn’t learn from a meeting, but a field trip. He’s sent to Ever, a restaurant where Carmy once trained, for a week’s worth of culinary refinement. Instead of balking at the bougie fine dining scene, Richie eventually respects it, and we get the sense that he’s never been given an educational opportunity like this –- or the sense of trust and potential that goes with it. At first, he’s relegated to a tedious job washing forks, but the staff at Ever takes a serene approach to even the most menial tasks, and it soon becomes infectious.

“Forks” features a beautifully contemplative cameo from Olivia Colman, whose Chef Terry eventually reveals the poignant personal story behind the restaurant. Moss-Bachrach easily holds his own in the scene with Colman, revealing deeper layers of a man who was once the show’s comedic foil. The episode turns the Berzatto family’s typical sense of emotional claustrophobia on its head, reframing their struggle against mortality as an opportunity to make the most of life. “Every second counts,” the clock on the wall says, and it’s something Richie takes to heart as he drives home, earnestly belting out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.”

For a show that spends so much time focused on people stuck in their worst habits, the best episode of “The Bear” is about embracing change with reckless abandon and love in your heart.