A bagel's tale

I could go on and on about the 24 hours I spent in New York last week, but I won't. I don't have the energy to do so. But I do have some things to share.

First, Claudia was right. BLT Prime treated me quite well for dinner, despite specializing in critters. Our hostess, Amanda even ordered grilled cheeses from the kitchen without bacon when she noticed I wasn't eating any. She said, "You have to have one of these" and I'm glad I did. So decadent...truffle oil-drizzled mini grilled cheese sandwiches. Second only to truffled macaroni and cheese in my heart now.

So they already had me at the grilled cheese, but when we sat for dinner, there were popovers. With gruyere cheese melted inside. Popovers! Yes, I know they're easy to make (everyone--EVERYONE--I've raved to about them has said so), but I never have 4 cups of warm milk and/or 8 eggs in my house. Nor do I have a popover pan. And besides, why ruin the memory? I don't make things this decadent at home. I mean, white flour! No.

Anyway, this popover was huge. We're talking if the Swedish Chef was just a little smaller, he could use it for a hat. And I ate the whole thing. Despite knowing that a salad, dinner and dessert were coming. Dinner was a delicious medley of chopped vegetables with a few shavings of truffle on top and tossed with a few Hen of the Woods (relax, it's a mushroom) and a couple of other savory (never slimy) 'shrooms. I squeezed in as many bites as I could, but knew I needed to save room for dessert, which included lemon-cassis meringue pie with lemon sorbet. I shoved in as much as I could in what tiny crevices were still unoccupied in my stomach. And then there was more. Creamy chocolate petit fours. But there was no room. So Amanda boxed some up for me. She's the Significant Omnivore's new best friend since I was unable to eat them until I got back to Nashville the next day. Naturally, he helped me out.

But this post is supposed to be about bagels. I don't think a bagel store still exists in Memphis; those that opened during the bagel craze of the mid-90s have since become sushi bars and other eating establishments. A couple of bagel places survive in Nashville, but I rarely visit them. Because they're just not right. I don't know why it is that a chain bagel store can't manage to make an authentic New York bagel. And because they can't, I just don't bother.

But why can't they? Lots of bagel joints in NYC make really great bagels. Granted, some are better than other, but all are better than what we get here. We were staying in Times Square and the concierge pointed us toward Times Square bagel.

That, my friends, was a very good recommendation.

It's a small place and sort of BagelNazi-esque in that you better know what you want or the people behind you might toss you out. This is a place that people who know where to get a good bagel go to get their bagels. The line was populated with sour- and sleepy-faced New Yorkers who'd not yet had their bagels and coffee and by God, you better not get in their way. Though, luckily the woman in front of us had already had some cheer juice and helped us out before our big moment at the counter.

When it's our turn, we see trays of fresh bagels right out of the oven get unloaded onto the shelves in front of us. No! It can't be. But it is! I order a wheat bagel for breakfast (plain) and an oat bran, plain, and salt to go. My boss was a little curious as to why I ordered mine plain, but when we got out to the street and I bit into my bagel, she figured it out. There is just nothing like the experience of biting into a fresh, warm New York bagel. The outside is crispy, but not hard and once your teeth get through the exterior and tear through the warm, soft, fluffy flesh inside...heaven. You just don't get the same experience when it's been sliced and covered in cream cheese.

I brought the rest back to Nashville and heated them up for the SO. They were almost as good as fresh--still crispy on the outside, but soft once you get through that thin layer of crust. When the SO attempted to slice his bagel, I admonished him and showed him how he must eat it. I figure, since I toted these things all the way back from NYC, I have the right. Right? Right.

But why can't anyone outside the city of New York make these bagels? I've had very good New York style pizza here. Certainly, there's not something in the water or a special kind of NYC humidity that makes these bagels difficult to replicate. Is there? Though I should be careful what I wish for. If there were such a place here that could create a bagel that good, I'd have to make a deal with myself that I could only have a bagel if I walked to get it. Because there really isn't enough room for that many more carbs in my life.

So maybe the best bagel should stay in NYC after all.