This afternoon, after a brief and brisk tour of my two most-used libraries, NTS and I decided to give ourselves a treat. We had seen the shop around the corner for months, but never had we stumbled upon it during opening hours. Names are withheld to protect the ignorant, but it was catchy and involved the word ‘bagel’.
As I remarked to NTS afterward, I’m not sure the proprietors have actually ever seen a bagel outside the movies. They seem to be aiming at a sad, hard crumpet with a hole in the middle, smeared on only one side with ricotta-like cheese. And the serving boy thought ‘lox’ was capers.
Of all the things I expected to miss, Jewish delis were not high on the list. (Though to be honest, I would take a Dunkin Donuts bagel if I could get one.) As a New Englander, I find a big city with no significant Jewish population entirely outside my conception. My husband points out that any area with no significant Jewish population (like my home state of Maine) is outside his conception–he’s from eastern Connecticut.
Okay, we struck out on the bagels close to home. How about York? I suggested. I know York was known for it’s Jewish population during the Middle Ages.
I look it up on Wikipedia. Wince. Maybe not so much these days.
Glasgow it is! This is the first time I’ve deliberately suggested we go to Glasgow. We must go to Glasgow to find the bagel makers.
Bagels have now joined my list of foods to eat when I go home, along with a rachel sandwich and non-hard apple cider.