For the past two months, Australians have been taunted by hot takes on The Bear, all the while being unable to actually watch the series, set in a struggling Chicago sandwich bar and responsible for dozens of "Yes, chef!" memes featuring star Jeremy Allen White.

The Bear was finally released locally on Disney+ on August 31, giving us the chance to make up our own minds about whether it was "the restaurant industry's long overdue reckoning" (NY Times), "gorgeously, addictively stressful" (Vulture) or the show of the year.

But who cares what us mere mortals think? What do real chefs have to say about the show?

"It's nice that something is getting closer to giving an insight on how tough it actually is. It's definitely a better representation than Burnt," says Charley Snadden-Wilson, chef at several Melbourne wine bars including The Moon.

He's referring to one of the most widely panned films about restaurants, so cliched in its depiction of the bad-boy chef that David Chang once dedicated a whole podcast episode to slamming it.

The general consensus from chefs I spoke to was that The Bear is pushing restaurant TV forward, a noticeable tempo change from Chef's Table's food porn or the studio glitz of cooking competitions.

I've never been so triggered in all my life.

Mark Best

Temper tantrums, late nights, gruelling labour, ticking clocks, constant pressure to perform: all of it is presented unvarnished in the show.

"You know in the show how the power goes out and they build the barbecue outside with bricks? That's how it is," says Shannon Martinez of Smith & Daughters in Melbourne. "You don't have a choice, you have to figure it out. The pressure is huge."

Why would chefs want to watch something like this on their days off?

Celebrated chef Mark Best (right), now retired from restaurants, delayed watching The Bear because most television dramas about chefs "make him gag".

"It's like saying ER is representative of life in a hospital," he says.

"But I've never been so triggered in all my life," he says of The Bear.

"I've also never wanted to get back into restaurants so badly after watching that. I think I have undiagnosed and unresolved Stockholm Syndrome because I just went, 'Yeah, I want that'," he laughs.

Best thinks he's encountered nearly every personality type featured on the show. "Absolutely all of them, even the cousin. I think I employed that guy about four times over."

Chef-owner of Mabu Mabu in Melbourne, Nornie Bero, said the anger and tantrums were dialled up for television. "The culture portrayed is, to me, a little bit old-school compared to what it is today."

Do chefs really say "behind" that much?

"I say 'behind' when I'm at Bunnings; I think I even said it to a vacuum once," laughs Martinez. "That's something you get drilled into you; it's dangerous to not say it."

What details were under- or over-cooked?

There were some aspects that chefs called bullshit on, such as the restaurant's coolroom. "There's nowhere near enough stuff in there, especially considering the food they were making," says Martinez. "Prepping things half an hour before service is also not a thing."

Pastry whiz Marcus's choice of workwear made chef Brendan Fong of Sydney's Lilymu laugh out loud. "He's wearing [clothing brand] Off White in the kitchen! I wouldn't do that, but sure, cool. In another scene, he was wearing Air Jordans!"

Snadden-Wilson questioned why a scuzzy sandwich shop would waste time making its own bread. "They're rolls! You're going through at least 200, and there's no way they're making them in two Combi ovens."

The outlaw energy of The Original Beef of Chicagoland's kitchen team was also a bit overblown – no doubt in the service of good television. "Lighting your dart on the gas hob in the kitchen and nearly [causing] a fire wouldn't be happening," says Snadden-Wilson.

The brigade system

If you didn't know what a kitchen brigade was, you sure as hell will after watching The Bear.

The hierarchical, military-inspired way of running a kitchen is main character Carmy's solution to the chaos of The Beef, the sandwich shop his brother left him after he died.

In a brigade, each chef has their own "section" they're responsible for – sauces, grill, desserts, etc – which feed into all the dishes on the menu. These chefs de partie then answer to a higher chef.

Fine-dining kitchens would be lost without the brigade, but is it needed in more casual venues?

"Without control there is chaos," says Adam Hall, executive chef of Sydney's upscale Flying Fish. "It's definitely not a thing just for fine dining. It benefits a company of any size. I implemented it in a cafe."

Hall adds that the person at the top can't be a tyrant.

Martinez is a fan of the brigade "minus the bullshit".

"It's the whole idea of having someone in charge who can direct the team, as opposed to everyone wondering, 'What should I do?' " she says.

She's trying to do the same thing in her Smith & Deli kitchen, which has previously operated a bit more loosely.

Snadden-Wilson (right) says bringing the brigade system to a sandwich shop in the show was "stupid, stupid, stupid".

While Snadden-Wilson is pro-organisation, he says "brigades breed this nastiness" and adds that they're useless in a kitchen of less than 20 staff.

Bero agrees: "Just because it works in a fancy restaurant where you can afford to have, like, 10,000 chefs in the kitchen it doesn't mean that system can work in a little shop."

Contemporary kitchen reality

Even if the brigade divided chefs, most of them loved seeing pastry chef Marcus given time to perfect his desserts.

"That creative freedom really helped me grow and find my own direction," says Adam Hall (right). "That was great to see in the show. It's very reflective of what happens in kitchens these days."

Sounds like a far cry from the excesses of the 1990s, epitomised by the character of cousin Richie. But every chef said that era is over.

"There's far less of that kitchen of rogues: drug use, alcohol abuse, addiction. Being a chef is more of a profession now, a more respected career," says Hall.

"You can't always be yelling at people," says Fong. "You have to change the way you run the kitchen. You can't just be a dictator. It's about bringing the best out of people."

"I tell my people that there's three or four hours where they're going to be working their asses off, and then afterwards we're going to have a beer," says Bero. "But maybe that's just the Australian way of thinking!"

Bero applauded the diversity of the cast: "It's really good to see that because that is what kitchens are."

The take-home message for Fong was that hospitality exacts a heavy toll: "It shows the sacrifices chefs make to succeed in their careers, missing family events, and spending time with your own family of friends."

Yes, chef

The Bear has been renewed for a second season and, when it screens next year, Martinez will be ready and waiting for the thirsty 'Yes, chef' memes to be made about women in the kitchen.

" 'Yes, chef' is the new 'daddy'. But the new sexualisation of chefs only hits the men, it's never a female chef. That just goes back to typical misogyny in kitchens and hospitality in general," says Martinez.