What to Eat in Pittsburgh

I guess Secret Beigel isn’t so secret anymore… this was, of course, written with permission of the man who makes them.

Once in a while, we come across an unexpected gap in the Pittsburgh food scene. A niche just waiting to be filled.  There’s one that we noticed immediately upon our return to the city in 2017: the bagel.

This gap has particular significance for me. I grew up in Squirrel Hill, a Jewish daughter of two Ashkenazi (Eastern European: Russian and Latvian, mostly) Jewish parents. My maternal great grandparents immigrated in the early 1900s and worked in the Hill District’s stogie factories. That meant that they were first generation Americans, and had deep connections to their roots that they passed on. This meant, of course, food. When I was a kid, my grandparents would take me to Rhoda’s or the Squirrel Hill Giant Eagle every day after school for a snack, usually matzoh ball soup with kreplach or jarred gefilte fish with chrain. When going on long car trips, we would go to Rhoda’s and buy a large quantity of corned beef, rye bread, and tomatoes so we could pack sandwiches for the ride. Richist’s corned beef and matzoh ball soup before a show downtown was a treat. Bagel Nosh was our weekend routine, and Katz and Kids’ tuna sandwiches (which always smelled slightly of cigarettes from the guy making them, which only added to their charm) were a common dinner entrée. My first dessert memory is a Rosenbloom’s sugar cookie, but of course their offerings were expansive. One of my most vivid childhood memories is going with my mom to Bagelland and getting chocolate chip bagels hot off the conveyor belt to pack for lunch.

When I left Pittsburgh in 2000, Ashkenazi Jewish food offerings were already beginning to wane. As I moved around over the years – to Philly, NYC, and even Birmingham Alabama – I was always in search of my comfort food. I was able to find it to varying degrees – Famous’s Deli in Philly and Artie’s on the Upper West Side, for example. On a visit to Montreal a few years ago, I spent a lot of time in the Mile End eating all kinds of Ashkenazi treats. I made friends with the chef at the amazing new-age Jewish restaurant’s Fletcher’s where they serve things like gefilte fish club sandwiches, and sampled bagels from St. Viateur and Fairmount.

When we moved to Pittsburgh, I was so disheartened to see that I could find almost none of these things here. Yes, there are places where you can get matzoh ball soup. Yes, I am aware that there are places that serve corned beef. But none were of the quality I was used to. And the quintessential food of my childhood, the bagel, was nowhere to be found.

Several months ago I was lamenting about this to a friend, who said I should follow @savefrancesbean on Insta. The account appeared to be a personal account of a guy named Joseph. More than half of the posts included the #secretbeigel hashtag, and what is best described as bagel food porn. Round, plump bagels displaying themselves in a variety of ways. On cutting boards, on plates. Whole, cut in half. Adorned in cream cheese and lox, plain.

I immediately sent a message: “Hey! What’s this secret bagel thing and how/where can we taste some?”

Fast forward 3 months…. I notice that a reply has been sitting in my Insta inbox. For 3 months. Completely horrified, I sent a message begging for forgiveness and asking what I could do to score some bagels.

The next thing I knew, we were guests at the home of Joseph and his wife Alex. They live in an adorable house in Bloomfield, coincidentally down the street from where we are going to be moving. Only in Pittsburgh, the biggest small town I know, do you meet your neighbor on Insta.

This gorgeous spread was waiting for us:

Let’s take a close look at those bagels. So beautiful.

  

My head practically exploded. It was everything I could hope for: those gorgeous food porn bagels next to various accompaniments, including gorgeous lox from Penn Avenue Fish Company (which Joseph told me they import from NYC’s Acme fish) and Hank’s whitefish salad from Penn Ave.

Joseph explained his operation. He makes bagels weekly. He doesn’t advertise – everything is word of mouth and Insta. He is well-known within the Pittsburgh Jewish community, from which he gets many of his orders. People message him their order, and he delivers in a small radius or allows pick up.  He delivers just bagels, but also lox and bagel sandwiches. Sometimes the lox comes from Penn Ave, and sometimes it comes from SALMON HIS DAD CATCHES IN ALASKA AND SHIPS TO HIM. That needed all caps because yes, I am yelling. Sometimes he makes special things like babka, which literally cannot be purchased anywhere else in town. (I once posted to the Facebook page Jewish Pittsburgh asking where to find babka and I was directed to Aldi and Trader Joe’s. No, just no.)  He charges enough to break even and do it all again the following week.

We sat down to eat. First, Joseph and Alex are both the loveliest people you can imagine. I mean, they invited two strangers (with their two 9 months olds) to their house to share a mutual love of bagels, so that should give you some idea. They poured us Chemex-made coffee and played with our babies, all while prepping the bagels. Joseph asked if we wanted him to make the sandwiches he normally delivers. Um, yes please.

Sandwich one: the traditional. Lox, cream cheese, perfectly ripe tomatoes, capers, onions, and homemade dill pickles.

During the building process:

Fully built:

First of all, I have to comment on the bagel. It is by far the best bagel I’ve had since we’ve moved back to Pittsburgh. It ranks up there with the bagels of my childhood, for sure, and also St. Viateur, Fairmount, and Famous’s. There are different bagel styles, and this one was definitely most similar to those I had growing up. Perfectly chewy on the inside, with just enough crustiness on the outside. And so plump you just want to squeeze them. It’s an everything bagel, which means it’s a bit salty and when you eat it you get covered with the delicious bagel seasoning.

One of the things I really loved about this sandwich was that every ingredient was so thoughtfully considered. The best lox, the ripest tomatoes, homemade pickles. This is what I would have eaten at a synagogue luncheon, gourmet version. Absolutely fantastic and completely nostalgic.

Sandwich two:

In process:

Fully built:

What I love about this sandwich is that there’s no way I would have eaten this at a synagogue luncheon. It has lox and cream cheese, but after that, things get wild. There’s triple berry jam made by their best friend’s mom,  and homemade harissa. Again, using all the best ingredients lets the bagel be the star of the show and makes for an incredible sandwich. It’s slightly salty from the bagel and lox, and also sweet from the jelly and spicy from the harisa. Incredible.

We sat and ate and talked for a long time, as one should do over bagels. We learned that Joseph grew up in Central PA but often visited friends and family in Pittsburgh where he was exposed to all of the same places I loved as a kid. When he came to live here in 2008 he also bemoaned the lack of a good bagel. So, of course, he decided to take it upon himself to figure out how to make the perfect bagel. When he told his mom, she told him that his great grandfather was actually a baker and made excellent bagels. So, of course, he used his grandfather’s recipe as a starting place. He boils the bagels in his own mixture of barley malt syrup, salt, and baking soda, which is part of what gives them their texture and flavor, then bakes them.

Joseph views his bagels as a meld between his grandfather’s traditional Eastern European bagel and something a bit more modern. This reminds me so much of what Fletcher’s has gotten so much positive attention for in Montreal.

Joseph shared his bagel philosophy. Bagels (also spelled beigel, the spelling Joseph has adopted) originate from Jewish communities in Poland. However, they are completely ubiquitous in the United States, and come in flavors (e.g., chocolate chip) and served alongside things (e.g., bacon egg and cheese on a bagel) that Joseph’s grandfather would probably never have imagined. While still staying true to the shape, size, and form of their roots, they have assimilated. This is not a bad thing at all – just a sign that bagels are evolving. This philosophy is directly reflected in Joseph’s approach to bagels. Because he bakes in small batches, his strategy is to make a style of bagel that most people will like – the everything bagel. It’s definitely an American creation, but I think we can all agree that it’s amazing. If a customer wants something simpler, like just a sesame bagel, they can contact him for a special order.

Joseph bakes in small batches to ensure the quality is on point. Everything is done by hand by Joseph, and sometimes Alex, who has gotten good at rolling dough. Small batches also mean that he makes enough money to keep going but not enough to be a full-time bagel baker. During the day, he works in tech. Evenings and weekends, he’s in the kitchen.

It turns out, there’s an entire community of niche bakers in town who have taken on various holes in the Pittsburgh food scene. They pop up from time to time at farmer’s markets and have Insta and word-of-mouth followings. “We’re all just sort of baking the niche foods that we can’t find on our own in the quality we want,” he said. In reflecting on why we don’t see brick and mortar bakeries who take this on, Joseph was very practical. “When these artifacts [e.g., Rosenblum’s] close, who else is there to enter, you know? They take their recipes with them and bigger shops push them out. The bigger shops drop in quality, but by that point you can’t afford to lease near them.”

I asked him what it would take to disrupt this process.  The answer is obvious: a bagel-loving investor.