And H&H, rest in peace, was the most insidious force of all in the bagel’s degradation. While it was understandable that Illinois moms might want big, puffy bagels to make tuna sandwiches on, no one in the 1960s would have foreseen a day when New Yorkers preferred puffy bagels and even (gasp!) knew no other kind. And yet that is the place we’ve come to. As part of the complete corruption of the old ways, the bagel has become not only bigger and softer, but sweeter too. The old bagel was a symbol of hardship and scarcity, its distinctive malty, salty taste inseparable from the austerity of its origins. The new bagel is an oafish, candied monstrosity engineered for children and lazy appetites.
An essay in TIME pondering the demise of H&H Bagels in my old hometown, looking at the sad trend to water down authentic foods.
A journalist's musings and wanderings, trying to find mindfulness and depth in the shallows of social media.
