I’m not usually one for conflict. Thanks to my delicious combo of sweet cinnamon and yummy raisins, I tend to get along with everyone. But I’ll be damned if some sloppy mix of seeds and salt is going to go on saying it has “everything.” Everything bagels, get over yourselves.
You know what separates an everything bagel from a plain bagel? A dash of sesame and poppy seeds, a pinch of dried minced onion and garlic, and a sprinkle of salt. That’s it! “Everything” my doughy ass. It just seems to me that a bagel needs to be a bit more honest with itself.
You don’t see me going around calling myself the “All Things Bagel” or “The Works.” No, I know what I am. I am a boiled a baked ring of goodness with glistening cinnamon and chewy raisins—and you’ll never hear me claim otherwise. And it’s not just me. A “sesame bagel” is a bagel with sesame seeds; a “blueberry bagel” is a bagel with blueberries; and an “asiago cheese bagel” has not cheddar cheese, not Muenster cheese, but asiago cheese, plain and simple. I will not stand idly by while these earnest, hardworking bagels are treated like second-class bread products.
It wouldn’t be that big of a problem if they had gone with “several things bagels” or even “a lot of things bagels,” but no, these greedy bastards go right for “everything”—as if that’s even possible! Tell me, Mr. “Everything,” do you have any pepperoni? Any sprinkles? Where is your gravy? Your avocado? I don’t see any mayonnaise or bacon! No, you don’t have any of that do you? In fact, you’re just a common slab of yeasted wheat with some bird feed on top. So ordinary it hurts.
How about you call yourself a “nothing bagel” for now on? Because in the face of the vast diversity of toppings you claim to contain, you amount to little more.
