As many know, the Jews made their way to the East End of London before any finally found their way to NYC. So, for many of us the bagel yearnings started down the same streets that were trodden by Jack the Ripper. In fact if Jack had tasted the bagels from Brick Lane I'm quite certain that he would have soon learned how to swear in Yiddish and he would have been distracted from his other hobby.

So obsessed with the yearnings did I become later in life for the sweet chewishness of a Jewish bagel that it isn't unknown for desperation to win and for me to drive all the way from my home to Brick Lane - a round trip of 5 hours to buy a dozen bagels, having carefully requested the burnt ones. This had to stop.

Now here is the thing.

What idiot concluded that the best thing you can teach a kid at school is woodwork? OK, a bookend is a beautiful and useful thing. And they do make mothers proud. But why (oh why) do they not teach men to make bagels?

Anyway, I make bagels. I read everything I could, I tried every idea and I ended up with what I remember and yearn for and like ... but a bit better. I make wonderful bagels. Anyone can make bagels. And after a few goes they will taste better than any you can buy. And the uglier and less consistant they are ... and the bigger they are ... the better they are. A few hours from now ... when the urge hits that vulnerable mark ... you can be eating bagels without even going out.

Ladies and gentleman .... make bagels!!!!!!!