Surely I could do it. I conquered a lot of baking challenges. I had intuitiveness, and combined with tried and true recipes, surely the result would be good. Right?

The last time I was in New York, I spoke it aloud, so my friend heard.

“I’m going to try to figure out how to make New York bagels.” 

There was nowhere around us that sold bagels quite the same. Even the couple of places that were advertised as New York inspired weren’t quite the same. They didn’t offer the same flavors, and the texture wasn’t quite right. Don’t get me wrong. They were good. Just not the same. Not copy/paste. I didn’t expect to copy/paste. That would have taken mentoring, tagging along behind someone who had been making them for years. Noticing the details—their tools, time, temperature, touch. There are a lot of innuendoes when baking. Or perhaps it’s the way I learn. But watching Grammy make her lasagna or Mother B make her cornbread, not to mention all the things I watched my mom make, stuck with me. I picked up details a recipe rarely includes. However, I’ve tried to include exactly those types of details in recipes I’ve shared.

“This is the ‘secret’ step. Be sure the mixture is fluffy before you stop.”

“They should at least be partially submerged in the juice.”

“An hour is good, but you can simmer longer if you want. It lets the flavor steep into the meat.”

I claimed I was going to figure out how to make NYC bagels in front of one of my very best friends, and I knew she wasn’t going to let me forget it. She didn’t bug me about it. She patiently waited until I started the sentence, “I’m finally going to try to make the ba……” and she excitedly asked, “Do you mind if I join you and watch?”

Um, I guess not? I didn’t think it was going to be very exciting. It might even be a flop. Based on the recipe, it might take a while. (It didn’t take as long as I thought.) But any excuse to spend time with her was beyond fine with me! However, I’d have to watch. She had some restrictions and couldn’t help. I knew she’d have a hard time resisting. And she did. I let her stretch the rules just a little bit. What are friends for, right? For protection and for a little wiggle room within reason. Nothing harmful.

I don’t follow recipes to the T except when they’re difficult. Then I follow the instructions in the beginning, just until I understand them well enough to know where I can give and take. So I bought the exact types of flour, sugar, and salt suggested. I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. And the adventure began…

It went very well, and they looked like they should, in my opinion, until the boil step. Then they fell a bit. I think I overkneaded them a bit. They still tasted good; they simply weren’t as fluffy as they should have been. I will try again, and I will master them! Well, maybe master is a strong declaration. I will improve them. 

And my friend is willing to taste test every batch. That’s what good friends do for each other! In fact, sometimes good friends are the secret ingredients to the best recipes of life experiences.

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