A nightmare on NE 120th street
A diasterous start to this noble quest calls everything into question, and leads to an answer.
Finding a good bagel in Seattle is what, on paper, this newsletter is about. After a disastrous attempt to begin this endeavor, however, I find myself grappling with the reality that this is, in fact, less a search for a circle of bread and, instead, an existential quest to recapture what has been lost.
Let me explain.
The plan for my very first bagel review was to visit Zylberschtein's Delicatessen & Bakery this past weekend. I’ve been to this North Seattle bagel spot once before and came away impressed by the Jewish deli offerings. You don’t see matzo ball soup and potato knish on too many menus in these parts. So I figured it was a pretty safe bet to start my journey, give us a decent bagel baseline to work with, and establish my bona fides with a bagel that, from my memory, would set the tone adequately.
Arriving around 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday, the line was manageable and pretty soon I was ordering the requirements of this journey; an untoasted everything bagel with chive cream cheese (for the full schmear) and an untoasted plain bagel as-is (to judge the bagel in its most basic form).
I remember while waiting that it was taking a while for an order devoid of any toasting, but there was also a steady stream of customers to consider, so it didn’t bother me.
I noticed that when the employee brought the bag to the window, he hesitated, walked back into the kitchen, and then re-emerged. I do not know why. It struck me as odd but, again, I wasn’t concerned.
When he handed me the bag I remember feeling a slight warmth from inside and, for whatever reason, my brain didn’t click into place. I was too busy thinking about my plan, how I’d eat the bagels, my ranking system, the photo choices, and what I’d write.
I drove home, excited that my long-gestating bagel adventure was underway.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized my everything bagel with chive cream cheese was, in fact, a sausage and egg bagel sandwich.
God, why have you forsaken me?
One, it was the wrong order.
Two, as someone who doesn’t eat meat, I couldn’t even settle for the acceptance of taking what I was given (the sausage-based rectangle also happened to leave something to be desired).
Three, my plan, my day, and my dreams were in tatters.
However, I was not to be denied. I would have my everything bagel with chive cream cheese, in this life or the next. And so, I got back in the car and drove all the way up to Pinehurst once more. This was going to happen and the bagel gods could not stop me.
The bagel gods, it turns out, are mighty.
Returning to Zylberschtein's a little after 10:00 a.m., the line was quite healthier and curved in a way that the end was just a few steps behind those currently ordering, a cruel tease that would only become crueler. While the employees scrambled and the customers gathered post-order, I eventually made my way to the counter.
I explained my dire situation and asked merely for recompense. One everything bagel with chive cream cheese my good sir.
“I’m sorry, we ran out of bagels.”
They ran out of bagels. By 10:30 a.m. On a Saturday.
I didn’t know Jewish delis could do that.
Look, we’re in the midst of SUPPLY CHAIN ISSUES and crazy things happen, so I’m not going to complain about that, other than to say it ended up being the perfect capper in a very imperfect bagel endeavor.
I drove home in shock. All my hopes, dreams, and eventual midday bloating were out the window. My tens and tens of subscribers would be left with nothing but the human wreckage of a failed bagel review email newsletter that contains no review.
I still had the plain bagel. I ate it. I didn’t feel like it was entirely fair to base my review on it, though I did record my thoughts and will hold onto them for a later date. Look, no matter what, you put a bagel in front of me, I’m gonna eat it.
I sat with the experience a bit more as the day went on. What were the odds that the day I start my project to find a good bagel in Seattle I get the wrong order and then the place sells out of bagels (AT 10:30 A.M.) before I can get the right one? What did it all mean? Did it mean anything? What am I doing with my life?
It dawned on me that what bummed me out most was not that I didn’t get my everything bagel with chive cream cheese. I was looking forward to it, but hey, life is full of days without everything bagels with chive cream cheese. We move on. We survive. No, what bummed me out was that I felt like I didn’t get my bagel experience.
For some kids, they wax nostalgic about waking up on Christmas morning or waking up to pancake day. For me, waking up on Sunday morning knowing that there would be a giant brown bag of assorted bagels, flanked by a series of cream cheeses and schmears, waiting for me in the kitchen was life-giving. Even if I didn’t realize it at the time, it was the experience I trudged through the misery of the school week to arrive at.
That feeling of digging around in the bag, pushing the poppyseed bagels and onion bagels out of the way to find the everything or plain (or sometimes salt) bagel that I desired was a religious experience. Noting the texture of the bagel, the crispness of the bottom, the dark brown cook on the top, and the pillowy center revealed after cutting into it, was a tradition.
As I got older, there would be times when it was on me to go to the bagel shop (Eli’s Hot Bagels, then, now, and forever) and order, which felt like an honor handed down by god (technically by my mother, who, let’s face it, was the de facto version in our house).
There’s an art to picking the right dozen bagels. You have to account for everyone’s preferences. You have to account for potential guests. You have to account for whether or not someone is going to be really hungry. You have to take a leap of faith and know that someone, somehow, is going to eat that poppyseed bagel.
Same for the schmears. You have to know whether or not plain cream cheese will do or if your household desires flavor. Do you live in a scallion cream cheese home or a chive & onion cream cheese home and can you appreciate the difference? Is someone gonna crack open that veggie cream cheese or will it take up real estate in your fridge for weeks until someone finally notices the mold?
Not to mention knowing what it takes to work with a harried bagel shop worker who has tons of orders to deal with and passive-aggressively demands that you know what you want before you even start speaking. That kind of “annoyed efficiency experience” that is so prevalent in the Northeast is hard to find elsewhere (and rarely appreciated) but it’s something I thrive dealing with.
There are more important matters in this world than ordering bagels for your weekend, but not many. Not in my world.
And upon realizing that, I realized why this experience was so jarring. I also realized what I’m actually searching for with this newsletter. Yes, I want to find a good bagel. But more than that, I was to recapture that bagel experience, if possible.
It’s made me realize that while Mt. Bagel was truly an out-of-this-world bagel and I’m sad to see them go, there was also something missing about their online-only ordering experience. It robs you of that tangible feeling of waiting in line, staring down hundreds of bagels as you compute the perfect dozen in your brain, and also eye that Dr. Brown’s soda in the fridge that you’re debating whether or not to order for old time’s sake.
There’s more to a great bagel than the bagel itself. I realize that now. And I also realize what I’m really looking for. What every slab of cream cheese and each sesame seed truly represents. An emotional experience. Something that transcends a bagelry’s ability to make something that’s “as good as New York.”
I don’t know if I’ll find that in Seattle. I’ll try again with Zylberschtein's and see what I missed. I may have just caught them on a bad day. But I already have to give them a nod of appreciation for helping me understand what this quest is about, even if it meant I had to find out they RUN OUT OF BAGELS BY 10:30 A.M. ON A SATURDAY OH GE VALT…