Kitchen

Should I stay or should I go?

It’s at once a practical and existential question that plagues the two lead chefs in FX’s “The Bear.” He was the emotionally tortured and volatile chef who left behind a rising career in Michelin-starred restaurants to return to Chicago, his hometown, to run his recently deceased brother’s floundering sandwich joint. She was a Culinary Institute of America-trained chef with potential and a steady demeanor seeking mentorship and an opportunity to work with a prodigy. Together, Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto and Sydney “Syd” Adamu — played by Jeremy Allen White and Ayo Edebiri, respectively — transformed the Original Beef of Chicagoland from a hole-in-the-wall into the titular fine-dining establishment.

But now their partnership in the kitchen has come to an end.

Created by Christopher Storer, “The Bear’s” fifth and final season picks up the morning after Syd, Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and Nat (Abby Elliott) learn Carmy is quitting the food industry and leaving the restaurant in their hands at a make-or-break moment. And the pressure mounts for Syd to decide if she’ll jump ship to pursue another opportunity. The eight-episode season, now streaming in full on Hulu, largely stretches across one day as the restaurant’s debts accumulate, suppliers cut them off and an unrelenting storm floods the kitchen and threatens to upend a night of service the chefs desperately need to have one last shot at survival and one last performance as a team to deliver an improbable turnaround.

In some ways, it’s a journey that mirrors the actors’ own trajectories. Before “The Bear” became a runaway hit, White was best known for his role on Showtime’s long-running dark comedy “Shameless,” while Edebiri primarily worked as a stand-up comedian and writer. Just as their characters have evolved and gained electric momentum in their careers, so have the actors. Both garnered Emmy Awards for their performances on “The Bear,” and they have added a multitude of film and TV credits to their résumés since. Edebiri is currently starring opposite Don Cheadle in the revival of “Proof,” her Broadway debut, while White will be starring this fall as an investigative reporter in Aaron Sorkin’s “The Social Reckoning,” a companion piece to “The Social Network” that chronicles Facebook’s whistleblower scandal.

Over separate video calls from New York, Edebiri and White reflected on “The Bear’s” conclusion and what it means to leave the characters that supercharged their careers behind. Here are edited excerpts from the conversations.

Ayo Edebiri as Sydney Adamu and Jeremy Allen White as Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto in a scene from Season 5 of “The Bear.”

(FX)

After living inside these characters’ skins for so many years, what’s it like to be done playing them?

Edebiri: They keep saying that we’re done, so I guess that really is the thing of it. Obviously I know that it’s over, but even when we were finishing our first seasons, it didn’t matter how much critical acclaim we got because we’re on a show that’s a part of a network that has a deal with the streaming service — there’s all these things that are continually in flux or that you know that you have no control over. As an actor, you’re used to this state of limbo or not totally knowing or being prepared for an ending, so I think I’m not overwhelmed by it, if that makes sense.

White: I don’t know yet. We were very lucky to understand for a long time when the show was going to end and, to a degree, how the show was going to end. It was difficult to see the direction it went — I have strong feelings about Carmy and where he ends up and how his story might continue on. So much of this season, for Carmy, is about a surrender or acceptance of his place in the world and his place in the kitchen, and it’s the first time he’s really been able to get very honest with himself since we’ve met him. And, in doing so, he chooses to leave, and that was hard for me, for Jeremy. Maybe there’s a world in which he tries this and he comes back. I think I had a different understanding for a while of Carmy’s future. I want him to be happy and healed, but it felt like … I don’t know — imagining him outside of a kitchen was hard for me.

I want to unpack that a little bit more. He wants to be happy. But it was interesting to see him wrestle with how his work hinders that — is it the crutch or the salvation? Did you find yourself having an existential moment as Jeremy taking in what Carmy was wrestling with, or have you reckoned with it before?

White: He threw himself into this work, into this world, pretty young in life. And he was really good at it. But a big part of him burying himself has so much to do with his brother, with his family. I was finishing something too. And, yes, of course, I was thinking of goodbyes, and I was thinking of moving on, and new pursuits and all of these things. I was checking in with myself and what it might feel like to just make such a hard turn in life. I thought a lot about what you get back from your work, but I think ultimately, what Carmy and I don’t share is he was causing so much chaos in his work life; it wasn’t just himself that he was punishing at times. It came down to this surrender to an easier way, a softer way, which was to turn it over to Syd, to turn it over to Richie, to turn it over to Tina in the kitchen — that part, I had an easier time understanding.

“The most beautiful thing about their relationship is their true unconditional belief in one another,” says Allen about Sydney and Carmy in “The Bear.”

(David Urbanke / For The Times)

Syd was facing a crossroads: a shiny new job that could take her to the next level or sticking with this seemingly sinking ship that has taken her to the next level, but where she’s felt unappreciated or stifled at times. Ayo, what did you think of the choice she made?

Edebiri: We’re really fortunate to have such amazing writers who thought about her and her journey. [There’s] an awareness of Sydney’s womanhood and Blackness and youth, but I think [they treated] her with the full dignity of just being a human being and getting able to be a complex character in this show and giving her the dignity of being just as flawed as the other characters. [The choice she made] just made sense to me. It made sense in the architecture of the show. It was gratifying to get to build to that with everybody.

The bulk of this final season has the team dealing with this massive storm that’s created a slew of setbacks at a make–or–break moment for the restaurant. It leads to one final symphony in the kitchen together.

White: Those days were beautiful. So much of our show is shot so quickly, but then we really get to slow down with these choreographed pieces of kitchen ballet, and that’s also when we feel really strong as a group of performers, where we’re incredibly reliant on one another, not just for the emotional beats of a scene, but in this very technical aspect as well. I remember going back to Season 1 and filming Episode 7, “The Review,” which was the single-take episode, and just how much camaraderie came from that, and how much respect came from that for everyone — that feeling of real success that we could do this. It’s a really nice thing that happens sometimes on sets, where there is such a nice mirror of what’s going on with the characters and what’s going on with the cast. In this last push, and this team effort, we want these things as the characters, and we want these things as the cast. We want these people to have what they want, what they deserve, so it was really exciting shooting that last episode or two where all those things are coming into place.

Edebiri: That’s Chris’ thing — it’s like a classical piece of music or something; there’s different movements. His own challenge that he puts on himself, and that, in turn, puts on us, is that we’re still in the same piece of music, but everything just has a different feeling. He’d been talking about it since, low-key, Season 3, but definitely started talking about it a little bit more concertedly when we were filming [Season] 4. It was really starting to take shape in his brain. This challenge of having it be in this one day, and how each episode can feel different, was really exciting to him, so in turn, it became exciting to us.

Were you hoping for more runway to chart what the characters were facing?

Edebiri: No, I think it was cool. I was just like, “Yeah, let’s see what it is.” That’s kind of what everything has been with this show. Part of her emotional journey for the last season, what was on a slower track, in a way, there was something also really fun in having the pressure cooker of one day, and everything getting to ramp up and be quite immediate, which I think has been reminiscent of Seasons 1 and 2 in a fun way.

Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), left, Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) in “The Bear.” The restaurant faces multiple setbacks, including a storm that causes damage and dwindling supplies.

(FX)

Carmy and Sydney’s dynamic has been so fundamental to the series. These are two people who see something in each other that the other doesn’t. What do you admire about their relationship as friends and as co–workers?

White: The most beautiful thing about their relationship is their true unconditional belief in one another. They see the beautiful things in one another that the other one is not able to witness in themselves. Even though trust has been tested and trust has been broken at times, there is such a loyalty to the best in themselves. They know that they can rely on one another. In a lot of ways, they saved each other. That piece in the opening episode of Season 3, where Carmy gets the call about Mikey and serves the scallop to Syd without ever having met her — there is this invisible tether that was not witnessed by either of them, but it inspired Syd, and whether Carmy knew it or not, this thing was loved and enjoyed by someone that was birthed from this very traumatic moment. There’s just this beautiful, invisible tether that has always existed and will always exist between the two of them.

Edebiri: What I admire about it is the fact that they are able to bring out — through a lot of miscommunication and hard work, but ultimately, I think, with good intentions — the best in each other. They want to see each other be the best versions of themselves.

How is that reflected in your dynamic? Jeremy, who is Ayo as a scene partner and what has she brought out in you as a performer, and vice versa?

White: I was really so lucky to kind of witness Ayo in real time — everybody else had to wait some months to see her on the show. I remember genuinely being struck by her presence, her groundedness. It felt like, if this makes sense, wrong because she was doing it so well. She’s incredibly smart, she’s a wonderful writer, and she’s very skilled improvisationally, and so, in acting with her, there’s something that always makes you feel very in the moment. You can never like relax, in the best way. It’s like you always have to surrender yourself to each moment.

Edebiri: When we first started, I was coming from the comedy world, and he was coming from a much more dramatic world. Our approaches were so different. He has such amazing presence of being and a quiet focus and has such care for the work. He’s a really great leader. There are ideas in society of men in power, and what power held by men has to look like and feel like, and he’s very gentle — especially in the show, which can live so much in the space of chaos and anxiety, having a gentle spirit really helps with filming. He’s so good at making that very clear and helping teach me that as well … I’ve definitely learned from him, without realizing it, ways to protect yourself and protect your peace, and protect also the peace of your co-workers — you get the work done, you be serious about it, but it doesn’t have to be torture.

Edebiri on working with White: “When we first started, I was coming from the comedy world, and he was coming from a much more dramatic world. Our approaches were so different. He has such amazing presence of being and a quiet focus and has such care for the work.” (David Urbanke / For The Times)

What was it like to see them get this thing they’ve been after — not one, but two Michelin stars?

White: Reading that moment —there’s been so much pain and heartache … for years and years and years, and I was just so relieved to see this joyous moment on the page. It felt so, so close to the surface of me already. And we — Jeremy and Ayo — have shared so many insane, joyous moments in our lives since the show. So it felt familiar in the best way. I’m so glad for that moment for both of them — for Carmy and Syd.

Edebiri: We’re shooting it so fast. You always wish you just had more time, and that was one of the last scenes — I think it was the last thing that he and I shot. There’s obviously a bit of a preciousness and emotionality that you’re feeling in that moment, while also tapping into what’s happening to the characters. It’s this thing that, in the brain of myself, we’ve been building to this over five seasons. There’s obviously a somewhat meta reflection of what we’ve gone through — this is just such a crazy journey. But I think at the end of it, especially because of what we know is going to change in their relationship, that in their working proximity, that they are not going to be close, but they know that they were able to do this thing and build this thing together, I think [is] what felt very special, and felt very cool. I hope it’s something that people who have loved the show also feel.

Fans have intense feelings about their relationship, as I’m sure you know. Has it surprised you how strongly people feel about their dynamic?

White: I know that exists. I don’t have too much knowledge on how that all works. It’s funny, I’m very aware of it now because it’s become part of a conversation around the show, but it was nonexistent in our approach to the work. It wasn’t even a thought for either of us. It didn’t occur to us. But I understand it. There is an intimacy, of course, with these two characters. And there is this trust. They lean on each other and they admire each other so much. I’m not like — nobody’s crazy to feel that. There is love there, it’s just not a romantic partnership.

Edebiri: It surprised me the first two [seasons] because I don’t think that that’s what we were doing. Anytime that you say otherwise, I’ve learned [not to]. It’s been hard when doing press, it feels like we get asked specific questions to try to give a specific answer, but the point of art is we make it and we give it. If people are having a response, that’s great, and if I don’t agree with you, I don’t think I’m shutting it down or anything. We made something, then you’re picking something up — that’s the exchange.

White says he knows fans have intense feelings about the relationship between Carmy and Syd. “It’s funny, I’m very aware of it now because it’s become part of a conversation around the show, but it was nonexistent in our approach to the work. It wasn’t even a thought for either of us.” (David Urbanke / For The Times)

Carmy has a few heartfelt conversations this season, but one that really stands out is the one with his mom, played by Jamie Lee Curtis, while revisiting the family home he’s stayed away from for years. He cooks for her. She’s remorseful. Jeremy, what did you think of that moment for Carmy?

White: There’s resistance in it. People like Carmy, you can give them the answer, you can give them the sorry, you can give them the opportunity, and a lot of the times they don’t know what to do with it, or they push it away, or they push it down. What that scene was about, for Carm, was becoming available to even listen. That was the conflict of the scene and the moment. But he was able to eventually get to that acceptance to release some of the resentment, to release some of the anger. Then he is able to show up for her, which was what has been absent. He was able to take it and give her something. It’s been years, if ever, that he’s really been able to do that, to get out of his own way, and be of service in that way to his mother.

Ayo, it was really touching to see Syd naming Tina her chef de cuisine. How did you feel about what that sets up for where Syd and the Bear might be headed with these women as partners in the kitchen?

Edebiri: I loved it. I love getting to work with Liza [Colón-Zayas]. I’ve been so privileged to also be able to direct her — she’s just phenomenal. I think about these two characters, where they started Day 1; Tina was pretending not even to speak English just to stay away from the girl. It was rough from the get-go, but I think both for Liza and I, as two women of color as well, we felt so invested in their relationship and the community they built with each other. There’s something very moving about that to me. Part of the thing for Sydney, she doesn’t know — I think Carmy can see it — that one of her strengths is that they’re different types of leaders. Part of what I think makes Sydney a great leader is that she’s able to delegate and actually remove herself when she knows that she might not be the best in a situation, it might be somebody else.

I haven’t actually seen it. I can’t watch the episodes, but I know when we were filming it, it was both very sweet and very funny. I don’t know if they kept any of the improv from Liza.

You can’t watch because you’re emotional about it or because you just don’t have access?

Edebiri: No, I don’t want to. We were doing all this press and everybody was, “You were so emotional; you wanted to cry, right?” And I’m like, “No, I just don’t want to watch.” I’ll watch it later. The only season that I watched before [it aired], frankly, was 3 and 4 because I had episodes that I made in it. I love the show and I know the show is good. I don’t enjoy watching myself.

I do love that Syd’s ethos in the kitchen is borrowed from “Ratatouille.”

Edebiri: Yes, f—ing rat. It tracks for Sydney.

“I love getting to work with Liza [Colón-Zayas],” says Edebiri about her co-star, whose character is named chef de cuisine. “I’ve been so privileged to also be able to direct her — she’s just phenomenal.”

(FX)

Jeremy, what was your reaction when you read Carmy is in a suit interviewing for an internship at an architectural firm? And what he expresses there?

White: I understand and I’m proud of the courage that it takes [to do a life pivot], but also I tried to play that scene in a way where I didn’t want it to be entirely clear [what happens next]. I wanted the question to be like, “Is this guy still so f— up in the head that he’s trapped regardless of his place in this world, or place of work? Is it a romance that he’s saying goodbye to? Is it a love that he still has, and he’s not quite over yet?” Then I was like, “Do we snap out of that scene and we’re back on the clock?” What is this? I think the goal of the scene is it shouldn’t be all too clear and wrapped up.

What do you think?

White: I could see there’s obviously so much love. There’s love for the people he works with, and there’s love for the paces he’s gone through, but I didn’t know. … I didn’t know if it was a goodbye or an admittance. I think I was trying to find something between him coming clean and being like, you know what, I don’t belong anywhere else or I’m so in love with this thing, but it’s not good for me, and I think it exists somewhere in between that.

Ayo, what was your reaction to Carmy interviewing at the firm?

Edebiri: I was like, “Yeah, that makes sense. This boy’s a noodle.” He’s a fool, he’s ridiculous. It makes sense.

Where do you think he goes from here? Have you thought about it? Do you think he will ever find his way back to the kitchen?

White: I haven’t thought about it too much. I do think there’s something really honest about that direction that Carmy was moving into, but I would hope there’ll always be room for him somewhere in a kitchen.

Edebiri: Syd is like, “You can’t do anything else, brother. Like, what’s the plan?” I don’t know if he takes a break, if he comes back to help her, if he does his own thing.

What do you think happens to the Bear?

Edebiri: I think they do well. It’s not just her; it’s her and Sugar and Richie and Marcus and Tina. She got in it for Carmy, but I think she ended up finding her own voice. I think they keep going, at least for a few more years. I really do.

White: I have to believe that all the pain and suffering and trauma — not only that Carmy has gone through, but that everybody has gone through — is for some greater good. That there is a payoff. My hope is that it would be successful. They’ll have the endurance and the motivation to make it.

“Hell’s Kitchen,” the Alicia Keys musical that has landed at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre in a blaze of rousing sound, deploys the R&B star’s glorious treasure trove of work in the service of a semi-autobiographical version of her coming-of-age story in the Manhattan neighborhood that gives the show its title.

The Hell’s Kitchen of Alicia Keys’ story, set in the 1990s, isn’t the gang-ridden Hell’s Kitchen of West Side Story, set in the 1950s. Keys grew up in Manhattan Plaza, a federally subsidized residential complex that provides affordable housing for artists. But for a teenager in rebellion from her watchful mother, the vibrant, music-filled street life comes with its share of dangers.

Kennedy Caughell as Jersey and Maya Drake as Ali in the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

Ali (Maya Drake, who’s making her professional debut in this North American tour production) is a 17-year-old ready to break out of the cage her mother, Jersey (Kennedy Caughell), has placed her in. Jersey, a single mom, isn’t a tyrant. She just doesn’t want to see her daughter make the same mistakes that she did, namely get pregnant at a young age before she’s had a chance to realize her own dreams.

The book by playwright Kristoffer Diaz (“The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity”) is structured around a loving but combustible mother-daughter relationship amid the creative ferment of New York. This artistic neverland is crystallized in the apartment building that has music pouring out of every floor when Ali rides the elevator.

Maya Drake as Ali and the company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

The story isn’t the strong suit of “Hell’s Kitchen,” which is powered by Alicia Keys’ versatile catalog, which has been supplemented with original material. The hits — “You Don’t Know My Name,” “Girl on Fire,” “Fallin’,” “If I Ain’t Got You,” “Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” “No One” and “Empire State of Mind,” among them — reverberate inside the Pantages with a thrilling exuberance.

What’s most impressive, however, is the way these tracks have been arranged both musically and dramatically. Jukebox musicals are notorious for shoe-horning in beloved songs without regard for storytelling integrity. “Mamma Mia!,” which crammed in as many ABBA hits as possible, hardly even bothered to find pretext for their inclusion. The lucrative example paved the way for more than two decades of musical theater shamelessness.

The company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

“Hell’s Kitchen,” directed by Michael Greif, takes a more dignified approach, raiding Keys’ greatest hits in a way that doesn’t cause dramatic offense and better yet, adds a layer of surprise to music that is so well known.

The songs are allocated in unexpected ways. Numbers that you might think belong to Ali are divided among the company. Jersey is first in line, and Caughell makes the most of her opportunities. But sharing in the bounty are Davis (Desmond Sean Ellington), Ali’s mostly absent and chronically unreliable father; Knuck (Jonavery Worrell), Ali’s forbidden love interest; or Miss Liza Jane (Roz White), a pianist who lives in the building and becomes Ali’s formidable mentor.

There are other characters who offer luminous assistance, but these are the principals in a musical tale built around Ali’s central relationships. Keys’ origin story is more dynamic on an atmospheric than dramatic level. A mother having difficulty with her boy-crazy teenage daughter isn’t exactly breaking any ground, and Diaz avoids venturing into more turbulent territory. Ali’s divided identity, stemming in part from an all-too-present white mother and all-too-missing Black father, sets up issues that are touched on but never deeply engaged.

Desmond Sean Ellington as Davis and Kennedy Caughell as Jersey and the company of the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

Miss Liza Jane spots Ali’s musical gift right away and fills her with a sense of pride and responsibility in her Black heritage. But her character’s role is somewhat earnestly compartmentalized. Knuck recognizes that Ali’s fascination with him stems in part from the way she sees him, much as her mother does, as a “thug.” But their tentative affair is secondary to the complex bond between Ali and Jersey, whose troubled connection with Davis helps Ali understand why her mother is so paranoid about her romantic choices.

But these concerns fall away when the performers start singing. Drake has a beautiful voice, but her Ali is slighter than that of Maleah Joi Moon, who won a Tony for her Broadway debut performance. I didn’t mind that Davis sings “Fallin’,” as Ellington has a voice of luscious thunder. Worrell’s Knuck more than holds his own with his duets with Ali. (In fact, I was more taken by his velvety interpretation of “Like You’ll Never See Me Again” than Ali’s more straightforwardly pretty version.) White’s Miss Liza Jane takes the Pantages audience to church in her numbers. And when Caughell magnificently directs “No One” to Ali, I can’t imagine there’s a dry eye in the house.

Desmond Sean Ellington as Davis and Maya Drake as Ali in the North American Tour of Alicia Keys’ “Hell’s Kitchen” at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre.

(Marc J. Franklin)

This tour production isn’t crisp in all areas. The dancing isn’t always smooth, the costumes struck me as a road show idea of New York cool, and the acting didn’t do much to compensate for some of the book’s less subtle moments.

But the energy of the production is infectious. “Hell’s Kitchen,” a New York story of a wunderkind discovering her gift, helped me get over my allergy to the jukebox genre. The soaring quality of the orchestra and the delectable company of voices pay exhilarating homage to a singular artist, who seems right at home at the Pantages.

Israeli attacks on Gaza have killed at least 871 Palestinians since the so-called ceasefire began last year.

Israeli attacks across the Gaza Strip have killed at least five Palestinians, including three in Deir el-Balah, and others in Khan Younis and Beit Lahiya.

Sunday’s attack on the central city of Deir el-Balah targeted a community kitchen and all three victims were charity workers, according to Al Jazeera’s Hind Khoudary, reporting from Gaza City.

“This shows that Israel is not only targeting people, but also organisations serving the community across Gaza,” Khoudary added.

Reacting to the same attack, Hamas said it was “a deliberate war crime and a renewed scene of the ongoing genocide against our people in the Gaza Strip”.

“This occurs amid an unjustified international silence and inaction that emboldens the occupation to continue its massacres, in blatant disregard for all international values, norms, and laws,” said the armed group’s statement.

According to Gaza’s Health Ministry’s statistics published on Sunday, Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza has killed at least 72,760 Palestinians since October 7, 2023, including at least 871 since the so-called ceasefire started last October.

Israel’s military occupies about 60 percent of Gaza’s territory, demarcated by a so-called “yellow line” buffer zone.

In that zone on Sunday, the Israeli army said its forces killed a person saying, without providing evidence, that the victim was armed and posed an imminent threat to soldiers.

The army statement also said a Hamas commander was killed, identifying the man as Bahaa Baroud. There was no immediate confirmation from the group.

Saturday Kitchen presenter Matt Tebbutt joked with Rivals stars about a missing guest on this week’s show.

Matt Tebbutt explained why his Saturday Kitchen co-star was missing.

Saturday Kitchen returned this weekend, with presenter Matt Tebbutt hosting some of the stars of the newly released second season of Rivals.

He introduced Gary Lamont, Lisa McGrillis and Emily Atack from the series and asked them all about their characters and what they get up to in the Jilly Cooper adaptation.

After speaking to the Rivals cast, Saturday Kitchen’s Matt Tebbutt addressed viewers, explaining one star’s absence from the line-up.

Helen McGinn, wine expert and presenter, had not been able to take part in the show as Matt said: “Now, Helen McGinn had to stay at home today because last night she had a binge-watch party with her neighbours in the leafy gated community of Hampshire.

“And seriously, she is too much of a fangirl to sit here today; her jaw would be on the floor. She can’t believe she’s missing out on our Rivals special.”

“So guys, please say hello to Helen.” The cast then waved and blew kisses, with Lamont saying, “Wish you were here.”

“Are you hungover, Helen?” McGrillis added cheekily as Matt joked, “Probably is. Helen, drop us a text, let us know what you are up to.”

Viewers took to X noticing her absence, with one sharing: “Rivals dropped last night, and Helen is not doing the wine this morning. Coincidence? #SaturdayKitchen”

Will Murray, Jake Croft and Kate Jenkins were on hand to serve up some culinary delights inspired by 80s classics in homage to Rivals.

Ollie Smith served up some classic cocktails, which were also in tribute to the Disney+ “bonkbuster” series.

Tebbutt and Smith spoke to the Rivals cast about the new season with the show’s host bingeing the first two episodes.

“It’s absolutely brilliant,” Tebbutt said. “And I have to say, none of you looks anything like you do.” Later in the episode, Tebbutt expressed his surprise at the stars’ transformations in the series.

Saturday Kitchen airs on BBC One on Saturdays at 10am

TWO retired RAF rescue helicopters have been transformed into luxury glamping pods.

The old aircraft have been given a new life after decades spent carrying out dramatic search-and-rescue missions across Britain.

The bright yellow Sea King helicopters are now parked at North Yorkshire Water Park, at Wykeham Lakes, near Scarborough.

ZE369 and XZ589 have had their specialist rescue interiors ripped out and replaced with cosy living spaces complete with a double bed, bunk beds and a mini kitchen with a microwave, kettle, toaster and fridge.

However, the aircraft hasn’t lost all of its original charm with some parts still preserved.

Parts of the cockpit, including the switches and controls, have been kept intact and reworked into a dining area.

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Guests enter through the original sliding helicopter door, which opens onto a gravel landing pad complete with a picnic bench.

The water park says the unusual stays are designed to offer couples and families a “unique” and “memorable” experience.

The pods only became available to book from May 1 with prices starting from around £130 a night.

The demand has already gone through the roof with the first four weeks sold out on Airbnb.

Guests will have plenty to do nearby too as the 250-acre waterpark offers inflatable aqua parks, kayaking, paddleboarding and open-water swimming.

James Whitehead, Operations Manager at North Yorkshire Water Park, said: “Both helicopters have an extraordinary history, having spent decades carrying out life-saving search and rescue missions across the UK.

“It was important to us that the original character and charm is preserved as much as possible while making them a cosy place to relax after a day of fun.”