A Little Piece Of Heaven With A Hole In The Middle

I love bagels. I loooooove bagels. They serve as the lifeblood to millions up and down the eastern seaboard. But why, oh why, can't I find a good bagel in the Northwest?

Top reasons that Northwesterners who don't love bagels, should love bagels:

1. Made well, they're delicious. Elitist Foodies be damned. (Apologies to readers that might be restaurant critics.)

2. Bagels fit nicely in one hand, and possibly more importantly, travel well. One can be consumed easily on a crowded morning bus ride with hot cup of Starbucks riding shotgun in your other hand. The ultimate grab-and-go food.

3a. You can slice it and put on it pretty much anything you can put on a sandwich made from an overpriced boulangerie. Save some money in these hard economic times. And don't forget to lightly toast the two sides first.

3b. A favorite of east coasters (including myself, and especially those of Jewish descent (me) -- I'm not sure how this came to be, and will require some history/culture research if I want to know) is cream cheese and smoked salmon, usually known as nova or lox. Alaskan salmon (best in the world, I'm convinced) isn't exactly hard to come by in the Northwest, so this should be a no-brainer.

3c. Variety is endless. Sesame, Poppy, Cinnamon Raisin, French Toast, Pomegranate, Blueberry Muffin (what?!), and whatever else you can think of to put in the dough, someone's probably done it, somewhere. And of course, the Everything bagel. (Well, not really everything.)

4. There's a neat little hole in the middle. How many other things you eat can you say that about? So you like those fresh donuts from Pike Place, hmm? (Bagels and donuts are closely related: the dough recipe is slightly different, and bagels are boiled while donuts are fried - see next point.)

5. Bagels - good for you. Not the leanest food around, but covers enough bases (if you put the right stuff on it) to provide a good meal any time of day, and certainly not unhealthy.

So, all this said, where can a east coaster in bagel withdrawl find himself a decent bite to eat? The only place I know so far is near Pike Place market in Seattle, on 1st Ave., I think. This lack of satisfaction feeds an occasional desire to take my eventually-minted business degree and open a bagel shop of my own. I will do this with the simple mission to spread the word of perhaps the greatest food ever invented.

(Okay, so ice cream is pretty close, cut me a break?)

The Act of Being a Fan

(Warning! Sports-related post ahead. Sonics-Fans-In-Mourning read on.)

So I got my real induction into British culture on Tuesday night - my first football (otherwise known as soccer in the US) match. I was offered a ticket to the Arsenal vs. Porto FC match in Champions League group play. (Explanation: Porto FC is a Portuguese team, and this match was being played as part of the tournament that comprises the best teams from the individual .) Arsenal plays at shiny new Emirates Stadium in Northeast London, and the place is truly massive, say, NFL stadium huge. 60,000 showed up to watch Arsenal dispatch the defending Portuguese league champs by a score of 4-0. And it was great.

We had seats that were way, way up near the top of the stadium. At any American sports venue, you'll need binoculars to even see what's happening at that height. But due to the shape of a soccer field (about as long as an NFL field including the end zones, but much wider - NFL: 120x53yds, Emirates: 114x74yds) and an intelligently constructed stadium, you can see everything, from anywhere.

What really shocked me was the atmosphere as the game went on. Soccer is played over two continuous 45-minute halves, with discretionary time added by the referees at the end of each one. The clock, once started, does not stop at all until it runs out. This completely constant action is completely absent from American sports, which all stop and start with regular frequency. Aside from the occasional rousing chant or insulting (and usually a bit salty) song aimed at the other team, and cheering in reaction to play on the field, the place is otherwise comparitively silent. I go to sports games in the US and carry on conversations and hear the call of beer men walking the aisles, and so on. There's that dull roar of conversation. None of that here - everyone, and I do mean everyone, is totally dialed in to the action on the field. (No beer men either - I didn't even see people drinking in the stands, but I think that might be because it simply isn't allowed.) The tension was palpable, despite the dominating play by the home team. (It may have also been a byproduct of the very embarrassing home loss dealt to Arsenal last Saturday.)

Oh, and everything you hear about English soccer fans having sailors' vocabularies and not being afraid to use them is completely true. (Perhaps this is why there were no traveling beverage salesmen.)

I didn't sing a whole lot during the match - my clearly American accent stuck out like a sore thumb. It would have sounded wrong to me, and everyone else around.

Watching the flow of a well-played soccer match is nothing short of exhilirating. Back and forth, closer and closer, until that gorgeously placed cross into the box gets the diving header and is sent straight past the opposing keeper and into the net. The whole place then erupts. They sing, they cheer, they have merriment. (See: Seahawks' 12th Man for inspiration.) They live and die by their team. It's not unlike being a die-hard for an American sports team, but the act of being a fan in Europe has a slightly different job description.

All in all, loads of fun. More adventures to come.