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Time Magazine
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
In Season 4, 'The Bear' Has—Quite Literally—Lost the Plot
This article contains extremely minor spoilers for The Bear Season 4. You can't go wrong putting delicious-looking food and the perfectionist chefs who cook it on TV. That was the lesson of Food Network's rise in the 1990s. It held true throughout the Y2K reality boom; stalwart competitions like Top Chef and Hell's Kitchen are still on the air after more than 20 seasons. Anthony Bourdain created his own subgenre of culturally aware, personality-driven food-travel shows that has persisted, since his death, in variations on the format from Padma Lakshmi, Stanley Tucci, Phil Rosenthal, and others. The streaming era has yielded a cornucopia of beautifully shot food programs: Chef's Table, Omnivore, High on the Hog, Salt Fat Acid Heat. All of which is to say that, though it's understood to have been a surprise hit, FX's The Bear was well placed to become the phenomenon it is. The rare scripted series set in a restaurant, its first two seasons combined all the enticements of the best nonfiction food TV with the propulsive tale of a grieving, Paul-Newman-lookalike master chef (Jeremy Allen White) who toils to transform his family's Italian beef joint into a fine-dining mecca worthy of a Michelin star. Like many popular food shows, The Bear makes for satisfying comfort viewing even when the narrative is lacking. Be that as it may, its fourth season, now streaming in full on Hulu, so exacerbates the stagnation that set in during Season 3 that it's bound to make all but the least demanding fans impatient. The show still looks scrumptious. But it has, quite literally, lost the plot. Following the frenzied efforts of White's Carmy Berzatto, in Season 1, to save The Original Beef of Chicagoland, formerly operated by his recently deceased brother Mikey (John Bernthal), and Season 2's transformation of the space and its staff in preparation of its rebirth as culinary destination The Bear, the third season chronicled the new spot's rough start. Carmy chose his work over his burgeoning relationship with Claire (Molly Gordon), pushing himself towards artistic excellence—and his employees towards madness—with a new menu every day. His unwillingness to compromise made the restaurant unfeasibly expensive to run, infuriating his investor, family friend Uncle Jimmy (a.k.a. Cicero, played by Oliver Platt) and making his sister and business manager Sugar's (Abby Elliott) life difficult as she welcomed a new baby. It also heightened Carmy's perennial conflict with Mikey's best friend Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), whose charm eased his evolution from managing The Beef to running front of house for The Bear. Their fights in the kitchen threw dinner services into chaos. Said chaos forced Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), a talented and self-possessed young chef who once idolized Carmy, to consider leaving this restaurant she helped create to accept a job offer from a more stable competitor. But by the end of the season, no problems had been solved and few questions answered. Maybe this was a manifestation of the same streaming bloat that has also, recently, produced maddeningly incomplete seasons of hit shows like The Last of Us and Squid Game. To give The Bear the benefit of the doubt, which it had earned, was to interpret 10 episodes' worth of wheel-spinning as a stylistic choice underscoring the characters' own poor communication and fundamental stuckness. When the finale made the contents of a Chicago Tribune review its cliffhanger, it seemed as though movement was finally imminent. Unfortunately, Season 4—whose thematic throughline is Carmy and his family and colleagues mending broken relationships and making amends for the hurt they've caused each other—is just as inert. Carmy acknowledges as much in a premiere that finds him gloomily watching Groundhog Day on TV and complaining to pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) that he feels 'stuck in the same day.' The Trib headline reads: 'Bear Necessities Missing: The Bear Stumbles With Culinary Dissonance,' and the gist is that, while the food is interesting and ambitious, a lack of harmony behind the scenes makes the overall experience a crapshoot. Or, as Syd sums it up, 'The Trib ate here three different times at three different restaurants… They didn't like the chaos.' As usual, Carmy sees the situation through his own, depressive and self-absorbed, lens: 'I wasn't good enough, and I need to be better.' Whatever the core problem may be, the need for improvement is urgent. Spooked by the review, Jimmy and his numbers guy, The Computer (Brian Koppelman), come into the kitchen with a giant digital timer, counting down two months' worth of seconds. That's how long The Bear has to change its financial outlook or close. This challenge should've been enough to get the show cooking again. Weirdly, it isn't. Though the timer keeps ticking and graphs charting the restaurant's progress periodically flash across the screen, little of what actually happens has much to do with this race towards profitability. It's as though creator Christopher Storer has forgotten how to do the kind of thrilling service scenes that once made The Bear so addictive, painting plot beats and character development into the larger panorama of present-tense panic. Instead, in too many formless episodes, Season 4 favors quiet solo scenes (Syd perfects a dish amid dramatic lighting and a haunting St. Vincent track, in a set piece that looks lovely but has nothing new to say) and earnest two-handers. These one-on-one conversations sound remarkably similar to one another. Everyone is always expressing profound truths from the very bottom of their soul. And what they're conveying, more often than not, are truisms or self-help koans: 'People are not so different.' 'It's realizing the capacity to love that matters.' 'There is probably one really true thing about restaurants… You are never alone.' As awards pundits never fail to notice, The Bear resists categorization as a comedy. Now, it's not only seldom funny; it also takes itself way too seriously. That shift in tone, from early seasons that moved fluidly between humor and wonder and angst to the relentless solemnity of the past two, has been particularly frustrating with regard to our hero. It's not hard to believe Carmy's a culinary genius, nor would the show work if he wasn't one. What's growing tiresome is his depiction as the ultimate tragic hero, noble and beautiful but cursed by the tragic flaw of his perfectionism, and specifically of his need to compensate for a bad childhood by proving he's the best to ever tweezer microgreens onto a blanket of foam. The camera lingers for too long on his pained, Grecian-bust features. His every line is freighted with meaning. White does as great a job as is probably possible of making this overly aestheticized archetype into a believable human being. It's not his fault that Carmy has gotten so boring. For proof, look to Season 4's best episode, in which he isn't even a presence. Directed by Zola filmmaker Janicza Bravo (every other episode this season credits Storer as director or co-director), it follows Syd on a day off spent getting her hair braided at the home of a stylist pal, Chantel, played by Danielle Deadwyler. A pragmatic, emotionally intelligent contrast to Carmy, Syd is still agonizing over whether to leave The Bear or become one of its partners. When Chantel has to run to the beauty supply store for more hair, Syd entertains—and, of course, tenderly cooks a meal for—her 10-year-old daughter, TJ (Arion King), who happens to be navigating a painful transition of her own. The episode is refreshing, thanks in part to Bravo's lighter hand and in part to the respite it offers from Carmy's wallowing. Standout installments of previous seasons have also spotlighted secondary characters, from Season 2's Richie-focused 'Forks' to line cook Tina's (Liza Colón-Zayas) origin story in 'Napkins,' from Season 3. The Bear should be leaning more and more on this great supporting ensemble, whose characters are rich with potential storylines, for longevity. To Storer's credit, the new season does dial back the distracting celebrity-chef cameos and, with Deadwyler among the few exceptions, shiny A-list guest stars. (A wedding episode features many of the same characters we met in Season 2's divisive family Christmas blowout, 'Fishes,' to which this sometimes-wonderful but excessively long, 70-minute montage of confessions and reconciliations is trying a bit too hard to be a sequel.) Still: Carmy's brooding leaves little time to venture into the lives of, say, Tina or Marcus. Like its predecessor, this season ends with the tantalizing suggestion of big, overdue changes to come. If the twist that's teased in the promising finale really does happen, it will be The Bear's most substantial—and, I think, most inspired—reset to date. If not, a show that has now been in decline for half its run risks devolving into a mess as self-indulgent, morose, and, well, dissonant as its title character.
Los Angeles Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
‘The Bear': Apologies and reconciliations lift the mood in Season 4
FX on Hulu has asked that a spoiler alert head any detailed reviews of the new, fourth season of 'The Bear.' And while this review is not really detailed, everyone has their own idea of what constitutes a spoiler. So, read on, if you dare. Most television series, and not just the best ones, are organic. You can plan in a vague way, but you learn as you go along — what the actors can do, what characters are going to demand more screen time, what unexpected opportunities present themselves, what the series is telling you about itself. This can make a show feel inconsistent across time, but often better in the end, as much as it may irritate viewers who liked how things were back at the beginning. Early in the fourth season of 'The Bear,' premiering Wednesday on FX on Hulu, the staff of the series' eponymous restaurant finally sees the Chicago Tribune review they were anticipating throughout much of Season 3, and when it comes, it contains words like 'confusing,' 'show-offy' and 'dissonant.' (It's beautiful to see the review represented in a physical newspaper.) The show's third season was accused by some fans and critics of similar things, and whether or not creator and showrunner Christopher Storer is drawing a comparison here, it's true that 'The Bear' doesn't behave like most series — the recent shows it most resembles are 'Atlanta' and 'Reservation Dogs,' both from FX, and going back a little, HBO's 'Treme,' which, like 'The Bear,' are less invested in plot than in character, place and feeling. For all the series' specific detail and naturalistic production, the eponymous Bear is a fairy-tale restaurant, staffed by people who not long before were hustling to get beef sandwiches out the door but, encouraged by Jeremy Allen White's brilliant chef Carmen, have revealed individual superpowers in relatively short time. (Carmy asks Marcus, a genius of dessert played by Lionel Boyce, how he achieved a certain effect in a new sweet; 'Legerdemain,' Marcus replies.) If you want to see real restaurants in operation, there are plenty of options, from Netflix's 'Chef's Table,' to Frederick Wiseman's 'Menus-Plaisirs — Les Troisgros,' a four-hour film about a Michelin three-star restaurant in central France. (It streams from you have until March 2027 to catch it there, and should.) But this invented place, which is real enough for its purposes, is primarily a stage for human striving, failure and success — and love. Come for the food, stay for the people. After the first two seasons, which involved transforming the Beef, the sandwich shop Carmy inherited from his late brother Mikey, and creating the Bear, the third looked around and over its shoulder, flashing back and stretching out and developing themes that are taken up again in Season 4, which begins so hot on the heels of three they might as well be one. (They were filmed back-to-back.) The chaos and expense created by Carmy's 'nonnegotiable' decision to change the menu every night; the prospect of the Tribune review; and a participation agreement for sous-chef-turned-creative partner Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) are still working their way through the story. It begins more prosaically, certainly when compared with the impressionistic montage that occupied the whole of last season's opening episode. And, apart from an opening flashback in which Carmy tells Mikey (Jon Bernthal) of his vision for a restaurant ('We could make it calm, we could make it delicious, we could play good music, people would want to come in there and celebrate … we could make people happy'), it stays in the present, facing forward. Once again, we get a ticking clock to create pressure; installed by the 'uncle' they call Computer (Brian Koppelman), it's timed not as before to the opening of the restaurant but to the point at which backer Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) will pull out and the Bear will 'cease operations.' (It's set to 1,440 hours, or 60 days.) But deadlines come and go on this show, and though we're treated to repeated shots of the countdown clock, it doesn't create much actual tension. There is always something more immediately concerning, in the kitchen or out in the world. For all his messing with the menu in search of a Michelin star, Carmy is stuck in a rut — cue clip from 'Groundhog Day' — and has also become maddeningly inarticulate, almost beyond speech; much of what White does this year is listen and react, doing subtle work with his face and fingers, interjecting an occasional 'Yeah,' while family or colleagues unburden themselves or take him to task. 'Is this performative?' Richie asks a moping Carmy. 'You waiting for me to ask if you're OK?' Some of his self-flagellation feels unearned — which I suppose is often the case with self-flagellation. ('You would be just as good … without this need for, like, mess,' says Syd.) Carmy can be a handful, but he's led his team into this land of milk and honey, and if the Bear is dysfunctional, it nevertheless manages to put food on the table, create delight and pay its people. Still, this is a season of apologies — even Uncle Jimmy is saying he's sorry, through a closed door, to his teenage son — and reconciliations. (You didn't suppose you'd seen the last of Claire, Carmy's on-again, off-again romantic interest, played by Molly Gordon?) Some developments can seem abrupt, possibly because so many of these characters are bad at communicating or lie about how they're feeling, saying that everything is OK when everything is not OK. But in the long view, the view that extends even beyond the end of the series, whether it comes sooner or later, everything will be OK. Whatever Emmy nitpickers might have to say about its category, 'The Bear' is most definitely a comedy; there'll be obstacles, but everyone's on a road to happiness. A double-wide episode, set at the wedding of Richie's ex-wife, Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), mirrors the calamitous 'Fishes' Christmas-dinner episode from Season 2, with most of that extended cast present again. But here, there is dancing. Richie, running the front of the house, continues on his journey of self-improvement, crafting inspirational addresses to the staff, meditating on a photo of a Japanese Zen garden and dealing in an adult way with his soon-to-be-remarried ex-wife and daughter; the Bear has become his lifeline. Gary (Corey Hendrix, getting some deserved screen time) is being educated as a sommelier; Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) is working to put pasta on the plate in under three minutes; Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) is killing it at the sandwich window and looking to 'create opportunity' with a new delivery app, a robot called Chuckie and a business mentor (Rob Reiner). Come for the food, stay for the people. Above all, this is Syd's year, which is, of course, also to say Edebiri's. She's got decisions to make and has been given long, often intense, two-person scenes, not only with Carmy but with Jimmy and Claire and an 11-year-old girl she suddenly finds herself babysitting, and with whom she spends most of an episode; Syd describes her dilemma in terms an 11-year-old might understand and receives the blunt advice an 11-year-old might give. Carmy, for his part, thinks he knows how to fix things, which he will finally get around to sharing. Is it a good idea? Will it work? Will we ever know, and do we need to know? Is this the final season? (No one has said.) It closes on what is not quite an end — that not everything ties up feels very on brand for the series, and like life, which doesn't run on schedule — and a sort of beginning. (I would just point out that R.E.M.'s 'Strange Currencies,' or as I have called it, 'Love Theme From 'The Bear,'' playing very quietly in a scene behind Richie and highly evolved Chef Jessica [Sarah Ramos] may be a gentle nod to their unseen future.) It can be corny, it can be obvious. It indulges in gestures as grand and unlikely as creating snow for a guest, and as small as a sandwich being cut to make it a little more friendly, a little more fancy. Both are moving. Good restaurants serve a reliable version of familiar food, food anyone can like. Great ones do something peculiar that won't be to everyone's taste, won't even make sense, but might inspire love. So it is with television shows.
Straits Times
4 days ago
- Straits Times
Food Picks: Chef's Tavern in Craig Road offers lunch sets from $28++, happy hour drinks from $9.90
Teishoku-style lunch from Chef's Tavern with a choice of protein, as well as sourdough bread or Japanese rice. PHOTO: CHEF'S TAVERN Food Picks: Chef's Tavern in Craig Road offers lunch sets from $28++, happy hour drinks from $9.90 SINGAPORE – After a decade of running 'Western omakase' concept Chef's Table in Tras Street, Austrian chef Stephan Zoisl, 43, has started a fresh chapter at the new Chef's Tavern in Craig Road. While this is a more casual route compared with his previous fine-dining outfit, it does not mean the quality of food and flavour has slipped. The 96-seat restaurant – with a 16-seat private room that can be split into two eight-seat rooms – offers classic European fare that leans towards Japanese techniques and ingredients and at more approachable prices. This begins with the teishoku-style lunch starting at $28++, available daily from noon to 2.30pm. Choose from proteins such as monkfish or pork, as well as a carb of either sourdough bread or Japanese rice. Each set – served on a wooden tray – comes with salad, soup and fruit. The a la carte menu is straightforward as well, with appetisers such as hamachi sashimi ($19) paired with lightly pickled vegetables and grapes compressed in Kracher Auslese, an Austrian white wine; and anchovy puff pastry ($14), topped with ricotta and large Gordal olives from Spain. For mains, I enjoy the prawn and lobster ramen ($28), with a robust housemade lobster bisque topped with ajitsuke egg and Argentinean prawns; and maple leaf duck breast ($34), with a medley of caramelised onion cream, crisp shallot crumble infused with juniper, smoky charred leek, pickled pearl onion and chive oil. A nod to chef Zoisl's Austrian roots, the Vienna-style schnitzel ($28) is beautifully crisp while retaining the juices in the tender pork loin. It is served with a crisp butterhead lettuce salad, cranberry jam, anchovy brown butter and fried capers. Finish with a light White Peach Mousse ($14) dessert with oolong tea ice cream, a buttery sable cookie and marinated berries; or Pina Colada ($14), a take on the cocktail with frozen coconut parfait, caramelised pineapple with rum, pineapple sorbet, crisp filo pastry and gula melaka sauce. Drink to this new venture with daily Happy Hour deals from noon to 7pm, with prices from $9.90++ for pints of Japanese beer, whiskey highballs and other house pours. Where: 0 1-02 Craig Place, 20 Craig Road MRT: Outram/Tanjong Pagar Open: Noon to midnight (Mondays to Saturdays); closed on Sundays Tel: 6224-4188 Info: Eunice Quek is STFood online editor at The Straits Times. She covers all things trending in the food and beverage scene. Check out ST's Food Guide for the latest foodie recommendations in Singapore.
The Spinoff
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
One of Wellington's most creative kitchens runs on a single charcoal-fired oven
At Supra, chef Thom Millot proves that brilliance doesn't need endless equipment – just fire, guts and pure creativity. Table Service is a column about food and hospitality in Wellington, by Nick Iles. Ever since the rise of molecular gastronomy and the orchestral slow-mo reverence of Netflix's Chef's Table, we've fallen hard for the image of the high-tech kitchen. You know the look: sous-vide machine humming away in a tub of water, Thermomix spinning silently on the bench, a Pacojet promising silky-smooth everything. All of it signalling control, precision, mastery – but creating distance between a chef and their produce. A piece of meat cooked in a water bath will be perfectly predictable, and probably delicious, but it lacks the chaos and vitality of one seared in a blistering hot pan. Heat, seasoning, originality. That is all a great chef needs. Technology and gadgetry aren't villains; it's just that limitations are where creativity is truly born. Nobody understands this better than Thom Millot, owner-operator of Supra, a 17-seat restaurant tucked away up a set of narrow stairs on Eva Street. His kitchen has a coal-fired barbecue oven, a small induction hob for prep… and that's it. All he needs is a sharp knife, some flames, creativity, and his near-psychotic attention to detail. Thom started his career at the age of 15, working the fryers at fast food joints in the Sydney suburbs. At the age of 19, he began an apprenticeship at a Tex-Mex spot, then moved on to a busy steakhouse. He was quickly stationed on the grill, a big responsibility for someone so young. The head chef saw something in him, and with good reason. Before long, he was routinely knocking out 250 covers a night with precision and control. He knew he had found his passion. He spent time travelling and fell in love with live fire cooking at some of the most exciting restaurants Australia has to offer: Rockpool, Porteño and Poly. Finally, he settled in Wellington and, in 2021, he opened Amok with his wife Tashie Piper. For three years, it blazed a trail in the capital, blending live fire cookery with immaculately sourced ingredients and a wine list full of originality. But like all good things, and with the near impossibility of keeping a restaurant open in this climate, it came to an end. Amok closed, and Thom spent some time cooking at other restaurants. In 2024, he ventured out on his own again with Supra. The space itself is a kind of magic: part speakeasy, part private dining room. Windows wrap around two sides, making it feel both hidden and wide open at the same time. Every night, the room fizzes with energy, the music up high and the talented staff waltzing around the space delivering plate after plate of truly world-class cookery. Here, the menu shifts constantly. Thom responds to whatever's at its best right now. New specials land weekly, depending on what produce is too good to ignore and whatever wild ideas he has been dreaming up. One thing that is always true is that it is all about bold, inventive and delicious flavours – and it all comes out of that one barbecue oven. We start the evening with a snapper carpaccio. It is everything a raw fish dish should be, but with just that little bit more. The snapper is lightly beaten out till it is paper thin and garnished with macerated persimmon, which brings a tart punch. A ponzu dressing lifts and spikes with citrus, and a delicate macadamia ajo blanco lends a luxurious, almost whisper-soft finish. It is a masterclass in restraint and elegance. Next up is a quite frankly outrageous raw beef dish. Six months in development, Thom has taken the classic combination of beef and oysters to a brand new place. Tri-tip is an unusual cut selection for a raw dish, meaning it is cut particularly fine and retains much more texture than a traditional tartare made with fillet. It is heavily spiced with a secret blend and is sweet, earthy and piquant at once, like it's doing a cabaret quick-change act as you eat. Thom smokes oysters and combines them with crème fraîche, resulting in something ocean-sweet, velvety and full of saline elegance. Serving the beef and smoked oyster cream on the half shell with a garnish of thin slices of Jerusalem artichoke turns the whole thing operatic: fatty, spicy, sour, chewy, smooth. It is a dish that I have genuinely thought about every single day since I ate it. The headline act for the meal is the rack of lamb sourced from Conscious Valley, a high-welfare ethical farm in Wellington's Ohariu Valley. The meat they produce is something quite special and can be seen popping up on menus across the city. Here, it has been brined for 24 hours before being left for a further two days to thoroughly dry. It is then set in the barbecue to roast without any additional fats or seasoning. At the halfway mark, it is smothered in a honey and black vinegar glaze and heavily dusted in cumin, coriander seed and fennel. The thick ribbon of fat on the edge is rendered into something quite obscene, and the eye of meat blushes perfectly. It's the rack of lamb you've always dreamed of but never quite received, until now. On the side is a cabbage that has been lacto-fermented for three days and then lightly charred and dusted with shiitake powder. It is an uber-cabbage that has had all of its natural sweetness and umami brought forward. To finish, a fennel puree and a jus made from the bones of the lamb provide perfect balance. Sweet, savoury, fatty, all clicking into place like it was always meant to be. You'd have to be a better person than me not to pick up the bone and gnaw until there is nothing left. It is without question the single best plate of food I have eaten this year. None of this is a fluke. The menu goes on, playfully riffing on things you recognise and showing you things you never dreamed of. Thom's focaccia is a revelation; it rises tall but not showy, all sour and savoury and rich. The duck liver parfait is a perfect rendition, accompanied by a zesty, bitter marmalade – all candied peel and deep citrus. The pumpkin gnocchi are pillow-soft and sing with sweetness before grounding themselves in hazelnuts and crispy sage. Brown butter brings the toastiness, and a genius touch of sharp black vinegar cuts through it all. A lacy peppered cheese cracker on top gives cacio e pepe energy, distilled to a single, brilliant disc. It's rare to witness genius up close: one man, in a tiny kitchen, turning out dishes this bold and brilliant. Thom sources every ingredient with care before filtering it through his singular vision and that one charcoal barbecue oven. Supra is the kind of restaurant this city should be parading through the streets, high on its shoulders for all to see.
Eater
11-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Eater
‘Chef's Table' Star Francis Mallmann's Restaurant Is Opening in Manhattan This Summer
Plus, 'And Just Like That…' bakery pops up in the East Village — and more intel Jun 11, 2025, 2:04 PM UTC Internationally renowned South American chef Francis Mallmann, known for his live-fire cooking and his appearance in Netflix's Chef's Table , is set to open his New York City restaurant this summer. La Boca will open inside the forthcoming fancy Faena New York hotel in Chelsea on 500 West 18th Street, near 11th Avenue, on Sunday, August 3. Details are still scarce about the restaurant — it's fair to expect Mallmann's live-fire cooking approaches. The name stems from a neighborhood in Buenos Aires. There will be breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Reservations can be booked now. The hotel's other dining and drinking spots will include the cocktail lounge, the Living Room, the speakeasy El Secreto, and the wine cellar La Cava. It is not Mallmann's first time working with the hotel, running Los Fuegos By Francis Mallmann inside the Faena in Miami. HBO Max series And Just Like That… is bringing its Hot Fellas bakery into real life in New York this weekend. The pop-up will take over East Village bakery Librae, offering free baked goods such as miniature croissants and flourless chocolate cookies, along with cold brew and hot coffee. The space will be themed for the show — will there be bread sconces and handles? It takes place from Saturday, June 14, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., and Sunday, June 15, from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Paterson, New Jersey Turkish bakery Taskin is expanding into New York this summer, per the Instagram account New Restaurant Openings NYC. The second Taskin Bakery will open in Midtown East at 50 United Nations Plaza at First Avenue and East 46th Street, with an opening date sometime in June or July. The bakery opened in 1997, focusing on Turkish breads like a variety of pides (flatbreads), acma (similar to bagels), and the stuffed scone-like pogaca. See More: Coming Attractions Intel NYC Restaurant Openings
