My Bagel Shop

I wrote recently about my occasional bout of performance anxiety. No, not sexually. At the Starbucks counter. There's another place I frequent that should, but for some odd reason doesn’t, give me performance anxiety. It’s my little bagel shop in New Rochelle, H&R Bialy. Best. Damn. Bagels. Especially when they’re hot and fresh, which is like 90% of the time. (Sorry, can't link to them. They don't have a website. Don't need one.)

H & R Bialy, New Rochelle NY

To be honest, the shop is almost, not quite, but almost, a hole in the wall.

Slightly dive-y. Which just adds to its charm. It’s so small, in fact, that no more than one or two customers at a time can stand at the counter. Typically when I go, on Saturday mornings, the line of customers is out the door. The shop is always very well staffed and they're extremely, ridiculously fast. You may be eighth man back in line and they are ready for you, so they yell to you to place your order.

In line at H&R Bialy. You can't see them, but they're yelling for your order. "NEXT!"

You physically can not move to the front of the line, because there are two people there already at the register, and five more ahead of you who have already screamed their order but not made it up front yet to pay. And so you yell. I’m not a yeller. I’m not a whisperer, but I lean towards quiet guy. But I have no problem yelling out my order and eventually pushing my way forward to pay. There’s no place for timidity here. They yell to you, you yell back, you push your way forward, you pay. Somehow, it works.

The people (and Yelp) have spoken. These bagels are simply worth the experience.

So how come I never experience a form of performance anxiety at my bagel shop? Hard to say, but I think it just feels so small town, so down home, so neighborhood-y. You see the same faces a lot, customers and of course, clerks. My Starbucks is in the city and there’s a different vibe, all urban and sleek. Bagel shop is dirty floors and old wood paneling and old photos of local little league teams that they sponsor with broken glass frames, and a pile of today’s newspapers for sale by the front door. No seating. No wifi. No fancy names for drinks, or made up new names for sizes of drinks. No baristas in fancy aprons and caps. Just kids in jeans and t-shirts and neighbors chatting and people yelling their order and coffee brewing and bagels. Damn good bagels. And an archaic system of ordering that somehow still works in 2016. It all works and it all feels right.