Mel Brooks once said, "A real bagel, you give it a name. You call it Larry or Murray because it's gonna be with you for a while." Truer words were never spoken: Even after one has managed to digest the chewy, monstrous carbo-bombs, bagels are notorious for sticking around your thighs -- or butt -- or wherever your body chooses to store its adipose flesh. With that in mind, I've cut back on bagels over the last few years, generally only bringing them out for very special occasions when I can justify a few extra carbs.Indeed, in my family bagels and lox with cream cheese, capers and minced red onion are practically the official food of any celebration. Unfortunately, southwest Virginia, where I spent much of the last 20 years, is not noted for its highly developed bagel culture. Sure, the local grocery stores sold doughy rolls with holes in the middle, but calling them bagels is a pretty serious stretch.
While I'm not the biggest fan of Lender's bagels, I have to admit that they came through for me a few times. Sadly, they lack the thick, chewy skin that makes a real bagel such a ... lingering experience, but they have always been dense, tasty and reliably mediocre. Besides, from the mid-1990s on, I've been able to find them everywhere, which has proved very handy.
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