The Courage To Tell The Truth About Courage Bagels

Here’s a headline that’ll start an internet flame war: The Best Bagels Are in California (Sorry, New York). The headline is from The New York Times, which back in 2021 declared, “West Coast bakers are driving a great bagel boom.”

Sacrilege.

That’s the only way to describe New York’s hometown paper talking shit about New York’s hometown product. When it comes Big Apple pride, the bagel ranks somewhere between The Yankees and the Statue of Liberty. But unlike The Yankees, who lose sometimes, and the Statue of Liberty, which made a questionable cameo in Ghostbusters 2, New York bagels never let you down.

When I lived in Brooklyn, everyone told me New York had the best bagels. I’d say something like, “that pigeon is shockingly aggressive, do you think he’s on drugs?” Invariably, the response would be, “New York has the best bagels.” Once, I got hit by a cab and I screamed out, “I’m walking here!” The response? “New York has the best bagels.” I even tried out the line on a mugger. When he stuck a knife in my face and demanded that I hand over my wallet, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “New York has the best bagels!” He settled for a fiver so he could buy a sesame bagel with scallion cream cheese from the place around the corner.

The point is, New Yorkers are proud of their bagels. Whether or not you want to hear their opinion, they’re going to tell you just how fucking good their bagels are.

But Los Angeles?

No.

We are not a bagel town.

Growing up, my family ate Western Bagels, where the motto is: a cinematic logo for an unremarkable bagel.

There are better bagels in Los Angeles, of course. Personally, I’m fond of Sam’s on Larchmont. I know Sam’s is good because as an overweight Jew my bagel bona fides are unimpeachable. Still, I appreciate the validation whenever a New Yorker says, “You’re right, Michael, Sam’s is good,” before adding, “but not as good as New York.”

Which brings me back to The New York Times. Those turncoat motherfuckers crowned California the bagel champ three years ago. Then back in June, they had the chutzpah to run a piece about an outfit called Courage Bagels, where customers actually take pride in the fact that they wait in line for an hour or more. The situation at Courage Bagels sounded FUBAR (fucked up beyond all recognition) to me, so naturally I had to investigate.

I checked the internet, aka the only source of truth in this mixed up world. Everyone on the internet seemed to agree that you will wait “forever” at Courage Bagels. Most people seemed to think the wait was “worth it.” The way I saw it, there were only two possibilities. Either these people had found the best bagels in the world, or they were total dipshits.

So I went to Courage Bagels to see for myself. The drive from my house took about forty minutes. Parking took another twenty minutes and it might’ve taken longer, but I decided to ignore signs for street sweeping and park illegally—just like everyone else in East Hollywood. When I finally got to Courage Bagels, I was shocked to see a very short line.

The view from the back of a line that has fewer than ten people

The wait to place my order took eight minutes. I timed it. The woman in front of me worried that the wait was “too short” because she needed more time to figure out her order. Behind me, two French content creators complained that the crowd was too small to produce compelling footage. I thought about turning around and telling them that Jean-Luc Godard had the courage to shoot whatever was in front of him. But before I could say a word, it was my turn to order.

I got the smoked salmon on an everything bagel with cream cheese. It came with tomato, red onion, capers, and dill. On the side, were three of those tiny cornichon pickles that give me flashbacks to reading about the Lilliputians from Gulliver’s Travels whenever I encounter them. I also ordered a pink lemonade, because fuck it. With tax and tip, the total came to $31.51.

Next, I walked over to the other side of the building to wait in the shade. The crowd skewed young and hip. I eavesdropped on two women who were debating how many steps it would take to “erase” their bagels, but that conversation quickly grew stale. I shot dirty looks at a twenty-something dude who wore a vintage Padres baseball cap and a Shohei Ohtani Dodgers jersey. What the fuck was wrong with that kid? I tried to guess who was there on a date, but then I remembered an article in The New York Times that said zoomers aren’t having sex, and that made me sad for them, but then I thought, at least they have overpriced bagels. Finally, after twelve minutes, my overpriced bagel arrived.

I’ll cut right to the chase: the bagel was good. It wasn’t earth-shattering. It didn’t change my life. And no, it wasn’t the best bagel I’d ever had. It was just a good bagel.

And that’s OK!

Good bagels are one of life’s great joys. They’re right up their with bank errors in your favor, long phone calls with old friends, and taking solace in the fact that while your team may not have won the World Series, the Yankees didn’t win either.

But I don’t think a bagel from Courage Bagels is worth waiting for an hour in line. Why? Because it’s just a fucking bagel. The thing is, I don’t think people wait for the bagels. I think they wait for the clout. Waiting at Courage Bagels is a way to tell the world you appreciate quality, while at the same time signaling that you’re one of the cool kids.

In other words, the hipster snobbery of Courage Bagels is LA’s answer to New York’s bagel propaganda. Where New York’s bagels score reputation points through reach and frequency à la the mass appeal of Madison Avenue, LA’s bagel reputation is all about the boutique if you know, you know vibe that speaks to the TikTok generation. It’s east coast cool versus west coast cool, but as anyone who has graduated from high school knows, the cooler they pretend to be, the more insecure they are. But maybe that’s a good thing for business at Courage Bagels. In a city that’s been told for years that it’s bagels suck ass, there are bound to be insecure bagel fans lined up around the corner.

Badges bagels? We don’t need no stinking badges bagels.

Did this story need to be written? No, it did not. But I wanted to write it, and enough situation normies felt the same way, thus this piece of bagel journalism came to be. What I’m saying is:

I got my best-seller badge back, thanks to the 100-plus generous situation normies who pay for this absurdity, and in return, we all got to learn the truth about Courage Bagels.

That

is

a

win-win,

people!

Of course, there are levels to Substack’s best-seller badge, just like a multi-level marketing scheme. I’m currently at level one. I’d like to get to level two, but that requires thousands of paid subscribers. That won’t happen overnight, but it will happen with more Situation Normal adventures—and you’re generous support.

I’m still working out what the next Situation Normal adventure should be, but I’ve set a target. When we reach 125 paid subscribers, we’ll go on another Situation Normal adventure. Promise.

Stick around and chat!

I ask, you answer

1. Is this piece the future of journalism, or what? Wrong answers encouraged!

2. Paying $31.51 for bagel, lox, and a pink lemonade is too much. But who can I blame? Hipsters? Inflation? Big Bagel? The fishy business practices of the lox industry? The commie pinkos behind pink lemonade? Pull no punches.

3. The Statute of Liberty needs a new agent. Can you help? Lie to me.

4. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with that guy that he thinks he can wear a Padres baseball cap and a Shohei Ohtani Dodgers jersey? Answers that use profanity will be given priority.

5. The best bagel in the world is the one you’re about to eat, right?