Preface: I was born an East Coast Jew. My first job was as a sandwich maker in a Jewish deli, owned by an Austrian holocaust survivor. My father, also an East Coast Jew, ensured we had bagels each Sunday morning as far back as I can remember, up until I left home at 16. 

There’s that whole game we play — if we were stranded on a deserted island for a year, what’s the first thing we’d want to eat after being rescued…?

Most of the guys I know would say a steak, pizza, lasagna, a mug of beer — stuff like that. Most of the women I know would say a kale salad and wouldn’t mean it. What they’d really want would be a baked brie and a glass of wine, but they’d never admit it.

Me…? I’ll take a bagel, but probably more than one. And after a year on a deserted island, I’ll take all the bagels, please. 

Bagels are the best things on earth. Honest to God, I can’t think of a better thing to eat, whether I’m hungry or not. Not chocolate, not pizza, not a lobster tail, but a bagel. And just about any variety of bagel will do. The salt bagel is my preference, with plain being next, egg bagel, and then the everything bagel. But there’s no such thing as a bad bagel, only different levels of good. 

But if I’d been stranded on a deserted island for a year, I wouldn’t want a bagel that’s been tainted with cream cheese, whitefish, or lox. That’s stupid. I could live to be a thousand years old and never understand why somebody would ruin a perfectly good bagel with dead fish and milk paste…🤷🏼‍♂️

There’s only one best way to eat a bagel and I’m going to share that with you now, per my previously mentioned qualifications…

You toast a bagel. 

You toast it until it’s golden brown with a little black around the edges. Then, as soon as it comes out of the toaster, you cover it with butter — whipped butter, but not that unsalted shit. In fact, you sprinkle a little extra kosher sea salt onto the butter as it’s melting into the bagel.

Then you eat the bagel, and you eat it immediately. And in the case of a toasted, buttered bagel, it’s okay to eat it like a pig. You can make sounds that come from your mouth or nose — doesn’t matter. You can take enormous bites and tear the remaining portion away from your teeth like a caveman chewing the leg off of dead rabbit. Gosh, I’m getting worked up just writing about it.

Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about when I was riding yesterday. And I wanted to share my opinion with you, because I’m as qualified to tell you how to eat a bagel as anyone you know. Now go enjoy a perfectly toasted, hot, buttered bagel. You can thank me later. 

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb 

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from Big Head Todd And The Monsters. Enjoy…

7 thoughts on “The Best Thing On Earth…

  1. My parents had a bagel shop, The Bagel Place in Virginia. I suggested calling it, Bagels on Broad because it was on a main rode in Richmond, Broad Street, but like most of my ideas, they never used them, lol They had a lot of fun there. Mom would greet and talk to the customers, and Dad would often work the board making sandwiches. He could cut a very thin slice being a surgeon as his day job. It folded after a couple years when the “nice person” who Mom hired to run it didn’t bother to pay the IRS taxes and when they came knocking, it wasn’t for a bagel. They did make a very good bagel there, however. Dad should be out of jail any year now – just kidding.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There was a deli in thee seventies on Santa Fe Avenue in Encinitas called Cohens. The proprietor was a very funny guy with a wry (rye?) wit. His arm was the first one I ever saw with a holocaust tattoo. But you never saw that side of him or a glimpse of the sadness. Don’t remember a thing about his bagels.

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  3. Sorry I enjoy a bit of cream cheese on mine. From our collective past, I was on watch late one night and heard unusual noise from the mess deck. I found our inebriated engineering officer chucking everything out of the breakout reefer while shouting “where are the Jewish doughnuts?!!”. I directed him to the wardroom pantry to continue his search. He woke the commanding officer with his efforts.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That is a great story, and very relatable.

      So long as you keep the cream cheese out of the Stache, we’re cool. My dad walk around for hours with cream cheese in his mustache, and it used to drive me nuts. Oy…!


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