A Bagel Story

They Don’t Know from Bagels!

By Alexander Marra

After the headline sinks into the confused, distorted brain of the reader, a series of questions such as the following are likely to arise. They don’t know from what? And what’s with this from business? Isn’t it supposed to be they don’t know about? And bagels…who cares about bagels. What’s going on here, isn’t this supposed to be news? I know this is a college newspaper, but still, I expect something a little more sophisticated and intellectual than bagels. Or maybe, because this is Richmond, the capital of the south, the reader may even wonder, what is a bagel? Do to my distraught, perplexed colleagues and fans, I will clear up this mayhem and start the beginning from the beginning.

After much tiresome research, I found little on the cherished Hebrew bread. But, due to my passion for education, I will share with you nonetheless, what my efforts have bore. Bagels are an ancient Jewish delicacy that dates back more than a thousand years. Its original creator is left anonymous and remains forever unrewarded for his great invention and contribution to mankind. What this ancient Jewish man or woman did do is known as we analyze the present day bagel, which was past down through generations and made the trip across the ocean into the New World, alongside the Jewish immigrants who brought it. The bagel is, according to Funk and Wagnalls Standard Desk Dictionary, a circular roll of yeast dough with a center hole, simmered in water and baked. It comes from the Yiddish word beigen, which means to twist. Eventually, people got creative and covered these things with various seeds including poppy and sesame and also have covered them with garlic or onions. My favorite is the one properly given the prestigious title of “The Everything Bagel” which provides me with all the added extras of robust flavor. Over the centuries the bagel has become a food used mostly in mornings to accompany the bread-based, rather less hearty Jewish breakfast that Americans can’t understand.

Okay, so we’ve established that bagels are tasty breakfast breads. But so what? What is the concern? Go ahead and eat your bagels Alexander what do I care? Well, my critical friend, I can’t eat my bagels. There are none in this town. Here in Richmond, fine delicious bagels are non-existent. They are but a legend here, something mysterious and fairytale-ish like the Easter bunny. They are but a mythical being, who exists somewhere in that other place, that Yankee place. Now, of course I’ve been blessed with a New York family and so I’m well aquainted with these Jewish treats. However, this became more of a wretched curse as I first hit the Ukrops to stock up on my favorite breakfast food when I first began my freshman year. “Lenders! Lenders! That’s not a bagel, that’s a disgrace! What do you mean this is all you have?! Haven’t you people got any Jews around here? How can they survive?!”

Right away, after my Ukrops incident, I fled from the store and ran throughout Richmond searching frantically for a good bagel. As my strength and hopes were wearing thin, and I was on the verge of finding a new college, my eyes caught a sign in the West End. It read: “Einstein’s Bagels” Now, I’m already familiar with various Anglo-American restaurants posing as Italian by cleverly naming their establishment, Tony’s or Marcello’s. I figured the same was happening here and the Jewish people and their cuisine were being violated. Another yuppie decided to rape a rich culture. I decided though, that this was my last hope, so I ventured inside.

I was greeted by a Starbucks-like atmosphere with little “schmears” of Jewish inspired art on the walls and a bunch of teenage kids with nametags running the operation. I spied their definition of a bagel behind the glass in the display case. I knew at once that it was not a New York bagel and felt betrayed. By merely viewing it, I could see it did not meet the criteria for size nor was the hole large enough for a thumb to pass through. (The “thumb test” or “thumb law” as it’s called has been developed by bagel inspectors and is used across the country as they rate bagels to give us a heads up on what’s out there.) I decided however that I must actually eat the bagel before declaring Einstein’s a disgrace to the Bagel and the Jewish race. I asked the girl at the counter for the Everything one in the window and she asked if I wanted it toasted. This gave me the signal that she wasn’t trained properly as eating a non-toasted bagel is like having raw eggs. But, I simply replied yes and told her I’d have some cream cheese as well. It was then when she pointed to the sign and questioned whether I wanted the sun-dried tomato flavored one or one of the 20 other choices for my spread. This tactic has been used by many who produce below par products. They try to cover up the bland taste with fancy gadgets and tricks. The best french fries don’t require ketchup and the best pizza doesn’t need pepperoni. Toppings like these take away from the pure delicious taste of the actual meal and are only used to mask bitterness.

But, what can we do. So I ordered the plain one and sat down to take a bite into the Einstein bagel. I must admit, it wasn’t bad. In fact, I was relieved. I was expecting it to taste like cardboard but instead, this was, indeed, a bagel. I cannot say it deserves the royal description of being a New York bagel, but it is a decent, above average bagel. Knowing this is the best it gets in this town, I ordered a baker’s dozen and went home. This will have to do I suppose, but I am still distraught.

And so, it still perplexes me how any self-respecting Jewish Richmonder gets up in the morning around here. How can they pull themselves out of bed knowing that no crispy poppy-seeded bagel awaits them at the breakfast table? Why live? Why, without bagels, what’s life worth? And the suicidal thoughts then kick in. “If I can’t start my day with a bagel, I just won’t eat at all.” As you can see, this is no ordinary problem. Bagels are a series commodity to our Hanukah-celebrating brethren. I can’t fathom why Jerry Seinfeld came to the Landmark Theater last weekend. He must have brought a survival pack supply of the stuff in order to bear the atrocity this city has committed.

Why is Richmond a city of bad bagels? I decided to consult my Jewish friend from back home on this one. I interviewed him recently on the matter. His name is Josh Shapiro; he’s originally from Queens, the capital of bagel country, so I think he is qualified to give us an insight.

“What makes a good bagel, Josh?”

“I’ll tell you one thing. Down, south, they don’t know from bagels.”

“Well, Josh, why don’t they know from bagels? How does one make a good bagel?”

“It’s all in the oven. You see, down south, they have trouble with pizza and bagels because they haven’t developed the proper oven. The average bagel-producing oven up in Queens is capable of melting down a Buick. To make a good bagel you need a hot oven.”

I thanked my bagel buddy for clarifying this riddle and then went to work on this article. But still I wonder, if all of it is in the oven, then why can’t Richmonders take to fixing this problem? Why can’t they import a quality bagel-producing machine?

These questions have yet to be answered, but I believe the reason is that there is no demand for such. The inhabitants of Richmond, or at least the vast majority, are ignorant of the infinite value of our “crazy doughnut bread”. These folks down here start the day with good ol’ bacon n’eggs with grits. (This strange creation called grits will be discussed further later, in a future article.) They have yet to figure out that bagels are the key; that bagels are the best way to start the day. One day, perhaps not soon, but one day, I’m sure they will, and until then, there is always Einstein’s.