A word on Bagels

Bagels used to be the center of my world before I moved to Trieste. I got over them once I realized that my real passion was NOT the bagel but rather the CREAM CHEESE that goes on top. The bagel was merely a vehicle for getting as much of that stuff down the gullet as possible. Thank God, because even if you do have bagels, you probably don't have a proper toaster, and at that point you have opened the Ex-Pat Pandora's Box. Frightening.

Before this moment of clarity, however, I had lots of conversations about how to solve the Bagel Issue (just in case you are wondering what new ex-pats talk about for the first ten years of their new life).

The consensus was that you should not bother trying to make them yourself (this from people who tried to make them themselves). It's crazy to think that this becomes an option at some point, but if you had a window into my Google Soul, you would find all kinds of whacked-out searches for recipes for all the foods from home I missed  (not including velveeta or cheese wiz). Basically, it's a waste of time and they always taste like crap. Even if you boil them in potato water. I don't know what the secret is, maybe the air of New York, because in Trieste they just don't work. Case closed.

I wish I had a good substitution for you but, sadly, I don't. For this is a land of chalky Fete Biscottate in the morning.

Breakfast remains the one meal where there is serious room for improvement on the peninsula.

Do you know something I don't? If so, bring on some happy news. I could use it!