The Bear, at first glance, would not normally be my cup of tea. I don’t watch any sort of reality cooking show – no Great British Bake Off or Master Chef for me. I wouldn’t really consider myself a ‘foodie’. But there’s something about the show that is so damn fascinating and also, weirdly, comforting.

The idea that The Bear offers comfort is quite strange, given that any given moment tempers will flare, arguments will erupt, and fights will break out. But I’m finding the show, specifically in its quieter moments when Carmen, Sydney and others are able to work at their best and perfect the dish that they’ve been working on, extremely enthralling.

A while ago I read about something called ‘competence porn’: a term used to loosely group narratives depicting hardworking and skilled characters striving toward and ultimately achieving their goals. As I understand the term (it has been used to describe comparatively grander narratives like Apollo 13, Oceans 11, and The Martian, as well as smaller-scale procedurals like House), it is this aspect of The Bear that has captured my interest above all else.

Each of the main cast of characters – Carmy, Sydney, Marcus, Tina, even Fac – are all individuals who are clearly motivated by their passion for and interest in food and delivering the best of the best for their customers. The fact that within the first few episodes of the series, Carmy’s attitude, his desire to elevate and enhance The Original Beef of Chicagoland, seemingly ignites or reawakens the fire in all of these characters. In exchanges where, referring to each other as ‘Chef’ regardless of any hierarchical standing, characters come to see each other on the same level and freely compliment each other on their performance or latest culinary innovation, the show is incredibly infectious as a viewer. The smile on Tina’s face when she is told that her dish has lived up to the expectations of sous-chef Sydney, particularly when she had initially been so frustrated by the Sydney’s assertive and, to her eyes, precocious oversight of the team, is simply joyous. It’s these smaller character moments that make The Bear feel incredibly human.

Although larger dramas are playing out across the series (and bear with me I’ve only just finished season one – I can only assume there are more coming), particularly around the psychological wellbeing of Carmy as he learns to adapt to his late brother’s passing, the smaller moments – Marcus finishing off a picture-perfect donut or Sydney’s day-in-day out work ethic – are what really stand out.

Even in episodes like series one’s acclaimed ‘Review’ – a single-take ‘oner’ depicting the restaurant devolve into chaos, vitriol and even a little bloodshed over the span of 20 minutes – it’s difficult not to recognise that all the anger, the impatience, the frustration we see on screen, is all born of the same shared motivation: these characters are trying and wanting to give their absolute best. The disintegration of the restaurant’s ‘family’ in this episode isn’t primarily the result of warring factions or petty jealousies, but of every character, whilst wanting the absolute best for the business and for each other, simply butting heads as to how to go about achieving that dream.

I’m late to the game and currently have just under two seasons to catch up on, with season three having been recently released in June. But there’s something so enticing about this ensemble cast and the passion that these characters (and of course – the performers behind them) depict on screen. I’m completely sold on the show. As strange as it sounds, The Bear is my new comfort food.