The Bear, Deep Dish, & Redemptive Hospitality

Hey Beloved,

I’ve been writing a lot lately about redemptive hospitality.

Not just hospitality as service.
Not as branding.
But as a way of seeing and serving that restores something—in the guest, yes…
but also in the one doing the serving.

Because when hospitality is done right, it doesn’t just meet a need.
It makes people matter again.

And in honor of Season 4 of The Bear premiering on Hulu this week (June 25),
I’ve been revisiting one particular episode that captures this truth in a way that’s stayed with me.

Season 2, Episode 7 — “Forks.”

It is an episode of transformation.
Where a single act of care—done with intention and urgency—
turns into a moment of redemption.

Not just for the guest.
But for the one doing the serving.

Let’s get into it…

The episode focuses on the character—Cousin Richie.

You know the type—loud, angry, stuck in the past.
He’s not a chef. Not really a manager.
Just… there. Clinging to something he can’t name.

In Forks, he’s sent to stage at Ever, a fine-dining restaurant in Chicago.
He doesn’t want to be there. He’s annoyed. Defensive.
They assign him to polish forks.

That’s it.
All day. Every day.

But something starts to shift.
He watches how the team moves—
how they anticipate, adapt, honor the guest.

It’s not ego. It’s excellence.
And slowly, Richie starts to care.

Then comes the moment.

A family dining that night casually mentions it’s their last night in Chicago—
and they’re a little bummed they never got to try deep dish pizza.

Richie gets a note.
Passes the note to Jessica, the expeditor.

She shouts into the kitchen:
“Surprise on 9!”

Richie asks,
“What’s the surprise?”

 Jessica smiles:
“Take a wild guess.”

Richie,
“You’re gonna make deep dish?”

Jessica just smirks and says….
“Nope…”

Cut to Richie sprinting through the streets of Chicago in a suit.
Straight to Pequod’s—one of the city’s deep-dish legends.

He rushes back.
The chef doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t mock it.
He honors it—plating it like art.

Richie, lit up now, asks:
“Chef…can I bring it to the table?”

And Jessica just says,
“Go get’em Richie.”

He delivers the dish with presence:
“I couldn’t live with myself if I let this beautiful family leave Chicago without sampling one of my personal favorite dishes...Pequod’s Deep Dish ”

The family is shocked. They laugh. They light up.
And something in Richie clicks.
He’s not just delivering pizza.
He’s delivering care.

He is practicing the ministry of welcome.

Just watch it the moment here »

That moment in Forks wasn’t just clever writing.

It was inspired by a true story—one of the most well-known from Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara.

Guidara was running the dining room at Eleven Madison Park—a world-class restaurant in New York where dinner costs upwards of $500 per person.

One night, he overheard a group of European guests talking about all the incredible food they’d tried in NYC.

But they had one regret: they never got to try a classic New York street hot dog.

So what did he do?

He ran outside to a Sabrett’s cart, bought a hot dog for $2, brought it back, and asked his executive chef to plate it—with the same care and intention as the rest of the tasting menu. Swooshes of mustard, ketchup, sauerkraut, and relish.

And you know what?
That hot dog got more oohs and aahs than anything else they were served.
Not because it was expensive.
But because it was thoughtful.

Because someone listened.
And acted.

That’s not just good service.
That’s unreasonable hospitality.
That’s soul work.

By the end of the episode, Richie drives home singing Taylor Swift—and you can sense a change.

Not because of the pizza.

Because he finally understood what it means to create a moment that matters.

To be part of something that makes others feel unreasonably seen.

Watching the episode fired me up.

And maybe it did for you too.

Because this kind of work—it’s not reserved for restaurants.
It belongs in teams. Retreats. Studios. Startups. Boardrooms.

It belongs wherever people serve people.

When you give your team permission to care—
and a system that helps them act on it—
they stop just managing transactions…
and start creating transformations.

They begin to outdo one another in honor.
They take pride in what they do.
They realize they’re not just showing up.
They’re making moments that matter.

This is what redemptive hospitality makes possible.

Not just for the guest—
but for your people.

For the ones carrying trays, sending invoices, answering phones, welcoming strangers.

It’s not soft.
It’s not fluff.
It’s sacred.

And it’s worth building everything around.

With you,
Nathan

Before you go, a question to sit with—or bring to your next team meeting:

Where’s one place in our business we could create a moment that truly matters?
Not for the bottom line.
Not for the brand.
But for someone to feel seen.

P.S.
Later this summer, I’m launching a 6-week online workshop designed to help leaders like you build a culture of Unreasonable Hospitality in your organization.

Not just to elevate your customer experience—
but to ignite your team.

If you're ready to turn service into redemptive work, stay tuned!