At the top of Act 2 of Seared—Theresa Rebeck’s overstuffed comedy at MCC Theater—hotheaded chef Harry (an ideally cast Raúl Esparza) is concocting some new creation. He silently sautés salmon, slices shallots, and—if I’m not mistaken—chiffonades basil. Later, he presents the finished fish to Emily (Krysta Rodriguez), a consultant who’s been brought in by Harry’s partner, Mike (David Mason), to raise the profile (and profit margin) of their tiny New York restaurant. She practically melts into a puddle on the kitchen floor, gushing, “It’s amazing.” Harry, however, won’t go that far: “It’s getting there.” It’s also an apt assessment of Seared.
A restaurant kitchen certainly provides fodder for endless delicious drama, and Rebeck couldn’t have imagined a better, or more volatile, chef character to stir things up: Harry, a self-anointed genius with Anthony Bourdain looks and a Gordon Ramsay personality. As Emily astutely but callously notes: “Every reasonably talented guy out there has been told that he’s a fucking genius at some point in his life and let me tell you they all believe it and they’ve been believing it since they were four which is frankly when they stopped developing psychologically. And that’s not to say that Harry isn’t actually special; clearly I think he is, or I wouldn’t be here. But being special and knowing that you’re special and also having an attitude about the fact that you’re so special—that ultimately makes you a little less special, doesn’t it?” Rodriguez—who was also top-notch in Rebeck’s What We’re Up Against—is fantastic at delivering Rebeck’s brittle, brutal zingers.
[Read Michael Sommers’ ★★★ review here.]
We know at some point Harry is going to boil over (because that’s what fiery chefs do, right?). But the buildup to his breakdown is bogged down by Harry fighting with Emily, Harry fighting with Mike, and Harry fighting with the working-harder-than-anyone-in-the-restaurant waiter Rodney (W. Tré Davis) about the same damn thing: scallops. Every customer requests them after reading a blurb in New York magazine, and Harry stubbornly refuses to make them; no one knows why, and the great chef won’t deign to explain his rationale. Mike to Harry: “Why are we replacing the scallops? Everybody loved the scallops, they ask for them every night, why can’t you just make the fucking scallops?” If I had a dollar every time someone mentioned the scallops, I could almost afford the Kikuichi knife that Harry likens to a “bird wing.” Okay, not really, that thing is about $350, but you get my point. Enough about the freaking scallops!
Foodies will certainly relish Seared and the way Rebeck describes food—all the ways to cook asparagus tips (“garlic, scallions, butter, heavy cream, sage leaves, rosemary, cracked pepper, butter, sugar snap peas, prosciutto, olive oil, basil, soy sauce, butter”), the “infinite number of doors which are opened with butter,” the banality of snapper, the ridiculousness of flowery menu descriptions such as “seared salmon” with “Bengali onion chutney” and “fresh spring asparagus.” But going back to Harry’s description of his not-yet-signature salmon dish: “I’m saying it’s good. It’s a good start.”
Seared opened Oct. 28, 2019, and runs through Dec. 15 at MCC Theater. Tickets and information: mcctheater.org
