I don't know what it is about bagels in California (oh, wait, it's that they are all made by Koreans), but they just suck. Nothing. Nothing will put into sharper focus the difference between our locally Korean made bagels and actual bagels than a trip to a New York bagelry. Doesn't matter which one. Pick any of them. Upper West Side. East Village. Doesn't matter. I don't know if it's the water, the recipe, the dough, or what, but something about New York bagels is just damn right and for a jew whose tenuous connection to his culture consists merely of regular consumption of round pieces of half-boiled, half-baked dough sliced in half, toasted, topped with cream cheese and some kind of smoked fish, maybe a tomato slice, or a red onion or even capers, when available, it's crucial to have the real deal.

Why do I mention this? I brought half a dozen bagels back with me and I finished the last one this morning. So it's back to the fucking Korean-made bastard bagels for this jewboy.