open, sesame: bagels, bistros, and me
Daniel’s experiences a sesame situation in Murray Hill (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
In August, I wrote about several of the much-loved restaurants in my Murray Hill neighborhood that have closed since the start of the pandemic in February 2020, many of them now vacated storefronts that look like the aftermath of an apocalypse.
Since then, a few more have been shuttered, including the Mexican favorite Baby Bo’s. Several others have struggled with staffing levels and, surprisingly, attitude. At a time when customers are at a premium, I’ve had several encounters with local places that seemed to be doing whatever it could to keep me from coming back.
As I mentioned in the summer, Sarge’s delicatessen is no longer open twenty-four hours; it now closes at either ten or eleven. One night a friend and I walked in right around ten o’clock and the man behind the register, which is just inside the door to the left, looked up and screamed at us.
“No fucking way!” he bellowed. “It’s been a long day, and we’re closed! Get out!”
We got the fuck out.
A few days later, I went back to Sarge’s, gingerly checking to see if that same man was there. He wasn’t; instead, one of the regular women was behind the cash register.
“Just out of curiosity, I was here the other night and some guy I hadn’t seen before cursed at us and —”
She cut me off and said, “Oh, sorry about that. Yeah, he’s been fired.”
“Because of what he said to me?” I asked.
“Because of what he said to a lot of people,” she responded.
I went inside, placed an order, and had a fine lunch.
A few weeks ago, my wife went to Daniel’s to pick me up a sandwich. In the August post, I wrote that “we’d find it hard to go on without Daniel’s Bagels, but fortunately it has survived.”
Well, we might have to go on without it.
When my wife brought the sandwich home, it was on the wrong bagel, sesame instead of onion. For several reasons, taste being only one of them, I cannot eat sesame seeds. My wife said that she definitely ordered me an onion bagel and was sorry she didn’t watch them make the sandwich.
“It’s not your fault,” I assured her.
I was having a rough time at work and couldn’t get away from the computer, so she went back to Daniel’s to get an onion bagel.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard the door slam. I called out to her, but no one was there. I saw that the sandwich that had been on the table had disappeared; I suspected that they made her bring the sandwich back, which was ludicrous.
The phone rang; she told me that one of the guys behind the counter was giving her a hard time and she was extremely upset. She left the phone on so I could hear their exchange: He was insisting that she had asked for a sesame bagel, while she was saying that she had most definitely not ordered that.
A calm meditator who does not get involved in ugly confrontations, my wife told the man that we’d been coming there for nearly thirty years, buying bagels, appetizing, Hanukkah donuts, and Passover cakes week after week and holiday after holiday.
“Would you rather me buy my bagels somewhere else?” I heard her ask.
“Yes!” he answered.
Bagel Boss and Sarge’s offer alternatives right across the street from Daniel’s (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
“So you’d prefer that I go to Bagel Boss or Sarge’s and not come here anymore?” she said, dumbfounded.
“Yes,” he replied.
That was it for me. I got out of my pajamas, put some clothes on, and headed over to Daniel’s. I am not a calm meditator and I do tend to get involved in ugly confrontations. (Ask me sometime about Crumbs bakery or fresh-squeezed lemonade at a coffee shop.)
As soon as he sees me, the tall man behind the counter says, “Ah, hello.”
I say, “Why are you giving my wife a hard time over a bagel?” I ask.
“Oh, she is with you?” he asks.
Me: “Yes, she’s with me. We’ve been coming here every week for thirty years.”
Him: “Well, I know you, but her I don’t know.”
Me: “She’s probably here more than I am.” I turn to the smaller man behind the counter, who has been taking care of us for decades. He clearly does not want to get involved. The tall man continues.
Him: “I know you. I don’t know her.”
Me: “Why does it matter? You made the sandwich on the wrong bagel. Can’t you just give her a different bagel, whether you know her or not?”
Him: “She said ‘sesame.’” He looks at the smaller man. “Right?”
The other guy nods but doesn’t say anything.
Me: “So what you’re saying is that if I had come in and asked you to replace the bagel, you would have, but since you don’t know who she is, you’re not going to.”
Him: “I don’t know her. She said ‘sesame.’”
Me: “It doesn’t matter. What’s the big deal. And she knows I don’t eat sesame bagels so would never have ordered one.”
Him: “She did.”
Me: “Forget about that already! And why did you make her bring back the sandwich? What are you going to do with it? This is all over a bagel that costs $1.35. Is it worth it?”
Him: “I don’t know her.”
Me: “But you know me.”
Him: “I know you. I don’t know her.”
Me: “Damn it! Can you just please apologize and give us an onion bagel.”
Him: “I’m sorry.”
Me: “Thank you for saying that.”
Him: “But she said ‘sesame.’”
Me: “Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” As far as I know, most of the employees in the store are Jewish and a few are Israeli, I believe, so I’m not sure how that particular phrase went over.
Him: “Okay, I will remake the sandwich on an onion bagel.”
Me: “Thank you.”
He takes the stuff off the sesame bagel and puts it on an onion bagel, then brings the bag to us.
Him: “Here.”
Me: “I appreciate it.”
Him: “But she said ‘sesame.’”
This time my wife had to hold me back.
We left and went back to the apartment. He had added a few free treats inside, including a black-and-white cookie, the Seinfeldian symbol for people existing together in sweet harmony.
However, this was the first Hanukkah in many years that we did not have any sufganiyot (powdered jelly donuts) from Daniel’s; in fact, I have not been back once yet, and am not sure when I will.
Right before that incident, my wife and I had gone to dinner with another couple at a popular French restaurant in Midtown. Nearly everything — except, fortunately, the food itself — was a disaster, as a lone waitress tried to manage but received no help.
I’m not pointing this out because poor me, my fancy French meal went wrong. Instead, it shows what can happen when restaurants don’t have enough staff; the last thing they want is to lose much-needed customers.
1. There was a mini-battle over an outside table with a group of six or seven regulars, who ended up being uncomfortable and blocking part of the sidewalk, which affected us as well.
2. Our appetizer never came.
3. Everyone’s dishes were brought at different times.
4. I never got my drink.
5. My dessert came well before the others’ shared dessert, and without the glass of port I had ordered.
6. When I told the waitress to forget about the port because I was done with the dessert, she brought it over anyway but said she wouldn’t charge me for it, but I really didn’t want it anymore.
7. She then brought over a complementary dessert for the table, but it was the same one the others had ordered; it was a nice gesture but there were at least five other desserts she could have given us instead. It didn’t really make sense to give us more of the same that we hadn’t finished anyway.
As of now, I’d sooner go back to the French bistro than to Daniel’s.
The last onion bialy at Kossar’s (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
We’ll see what 2023 brings, but things are already looking bright.
Yesterday I got the last onion bagel and bialy at Kossar’s at Hudson Yards — although the person behind me in line was probably none too thrilled about his misfortune.
Happy new year, everybody!