When I’m in the kitchen, there are frequently dramatic scenes, usually when I burn the dinner because I’m looking at my phone. Most people don’t realise how pressurised cooking oven chips is, especially if you’ve had a long day. Combine that with trying to heat up a cauliflower cheese grill AND boil peas, AND scroll Instagram ads about skincare over 40, and the result is usually a complete and utter meltdown and a personal life in tatters.
I think this is why I never saw the film of Boiling Point, the visceral story of life in a restaurant kitchen which was shot in one frantic, unflinching take. It felt a little too close to most Tuesdays, and also, when I look in the mirror, I see Stephen Graham anyway – so what’s the difference?
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I have to admit to some scepticism about the manufactured urgency of kitchens. What’s the big deal? Whether you’re feeding food critics at the Connaught or cranking up the fryer in The Codfather in Hull, none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s just food. How dramatic can you make the preparation of it before it all starts to look a bit… hammy?
The Bear was cool, sexy and gritty, but no matter how many high-octane shots there were of Jeremy Allen White marinating meat against the clock, a little voice in the back of my head was always saying ‘Calm down, love, it’s a SANDWICH SHOP. This is basically the Chicago branch of Greggs.’
Of course, it’s not about the food, I know that. It’s the human drama, the pace, the pressure, the broken relationships, the trauma bonding, the endless drive for professional perfection. If you get it right, these are all the ingredients for a banger of a TV show. So, wearing a pair of singed oven gloves, I gingerly decided to peek around the kitchen doors of Point North, the restaurant in the new TV version of Boiling Point.