Wednesday, February 23, 2005

A Bialy Eater

I’m sitting at my desk eating a toasted bialy and all is right with the world.

There are few things in the world that recall my childhood than bialys, especially warm, freshly baked bialys that smell like dough and onions and tasty goodness. When I was growing up, my paternal grandmother lived in a high rise on the Lower East Side, and every time we visited her, my parents would make a trip to Gus’ Pickles on Essex St. and Kossar's Bialys on Grand St. We’d get two or three bags of warm bialys and eat them over the course of a week (the longest a bag of Kossar's bialys ever lasted in our house). I ate the bialys toasted with a slice of cheese, dipped in jam or plain. They were just so GOOD.

Almost no one seems to know what a bialy is. They’re small, round pieces of dough that look like flattened bagels but instead of a hole in the middle, they have an indentation filled with chopped onions. Not only are they delicious, they are much healthier than bagels—one bialy has about 80 calories and 20 grams of carbs. I know this only because a couple of supermarket chains have started carrying generic bialys and they list the nutrition information on the bag.

Bialys are a true part of my family history. My father’s side of the family is from Bialystok, one of the old, traditional Jewish cities in Poland where the bialy was invented. His great grandparents, who spoke only Yiddish, immigrated to New York before Bialystok was systematically destroyed during World War II, and settled in Brooklyn during the 1920s. My father grew up running around Flatbush Avenue listening to doo-wop music, eating good Jewish food and Nathan’s hot dogs, misbehaving at Coney Island and skipping school to play in pool halls. When he was little, his immediate relatives all lived within three blocks of each other. Since then, they’ve mostly moved to New Jersey. My grandmother died about 6 years ago and we haven’t been back to New York in a while.

So when my parents picked me up in Midtown on Sunday and I discovered three bags of Kossar's bialys in the backseat, I almost levitated. Life is good! I have the best bialys in the world at home in my fridge and now I can eat them for breakfast until they run out. And then I can order more because now Kossars takes orders online…..

1 comment:

Overmatter said...

My family is from there, too! Maybe we're bialy cousins.