Sara Hohn – Food… Brooklyn & Beyond

Big bagels offend me. I dislike their sponginess, and the difficulty of getting a thorough toasting when each half is two inches thick. I resent that a bagel requires an entire cup of cream cheese, just to create a basecoat that spans the diameter of each half. Yet a fatty topping is sometimes necessary to obscure the tasteless mass of cumbersome, dense bread. All that heft, yet after eating a colossal bagel, I’m unfulfilled.*

At a time when bagels, like so many foods, have tripled in size, I’ve been opting lately for the bialy, a more streamlined, sprightly breakfast option. Originating in the 17th century, a bialy is a simple round roll with a depression in the middle, usually sprinkled with onions. It is named after Bialystock, Poland, a town with a tragic history. Thousands of Jews (including bialy bakers) perished there during World War Two. But the humble bialy survived and is still much-loved throughout the world. (The bagel on the other hand, may come from the German word beugel, meaning stirrup).

The bialy is made from basic ingredients: flour, yeast, salt, sugar and chopped onion. Brooklyn-based Bell’s bialys are made by hand with the signature middle indentation made by thumb. They are sufficiently salty, light as an English muffin, not too filling, and are ready for any topping – sweet or savory. All this, and you can still fit your mouth around it when you sandwich the two sides (hole side up!) back together. But, it’s tough to find a fresh bialy outside of the New York Area. Fortunately, New York City’s top bialy makers, Brooklyn’s Bell’s and Manhattan’s Kossar’s both ship, with Bell’s sending bialys as far as Japan.

But I can’t praise bialys without acknowledging their down sides. Bialys dry out minutes after they are baked, so they are almost always served toasted. So unless you get them freshly made at Kossar’s, you can purchase Bell’s bialys frozen throughout Brooklyn. (I found them recently in a grocery store on Avenue P called “Fine Fare” but they are sold in more desirable delis and supermarkets throughout the borough). Another challenge with the bialy is that an even slice takes more knife agility than slicing a three-inch thick bagel. A poor angle and you’re left with one ripped holey half, and one side that is too thick, making for uneven construction. But don’t let these small details deter you from the bialy next time you’re considering a leaden cinnamon raisin bagel at your local bagel shop.

For a truly engaging bialy read, check out Mimi Sheraton’s heartfelt quest to understand the “simple and runty onion roll” titled The Bialy Eaters: The Story of a Bread and a Lost World.

Bell/B&S Bialy
10013 Foster Avenue

Kossar’s Bialy
367 Grand Street, Manhattan

*H&H and Murray’s Bagels notwithstanding

Originally published on Until Monday: Brooklyn