A Bagel Company Made Pies into Bagels and Nothing Makes Sense Anymore
2016 is the year where nothing can just be one thing at a time. And Bantam Bagels is throwing a late addition into the mix with their pie-flavored bagel bites. The new mini bagels are set to debut at the bedraggled end of a year where brunch-flavored candy corn became a reality, the croloaf made croissants worse and bread weirder, and people served coffee inside of an ice cream cone for maximum Instagrammability. Oh, and a reality star known for firing washed-up celebrities became the leader of the free world. Hooray for taking chances, everyone! Nice work all around.
The Bantam Bagels pie bagel bites are blurring the lines between bagel, pie, and spherical snack food. They come in a dizzying array of flavors, including apple pie, cinnamon bun, French toast, cookies and milk, pumpkin pie, and banana cream pie, all in time for Christmas binging. But if you want the pie flavors, you'd better make tracks to Manhattan, as they're only available in the company's flagship store on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village. What, you thought having pie-flavored bagels was going to be easy? Nah, son.
As drool-inducingly good as these pie-flavored bagel balls look, they might be the canary in our culinary coal mine. Throughout all of 2016, we've pushed the boundaries of what's acceptable in food, and what isn't. Food ought to be fun, of course, but shouldn't it also be, well, food? If we want pie, why not just eat pie? If we want bagels, why not just eat a bagel? If we want prosecco, why drink tea that tastes like prosecco? And if we want to eat cream cheese, why on earth are we stuffing glorified frosting down our gullets and calling it a legitimate breakfast option? Why does everything have to be something else at the same time?
Perhaps this is a curmudgeonly take on things, but it seems like we're all fooling ourselves when it comes to food. Nothing can be the thing it is—every food item has to tick off multiple boxes at once. Your bagel has to be a rainbow. Your toast? A unicorn. Your beer? A plate of scrapple. Your cream cheese? A gooey schmear of Oreos. As the slow-food movement changed how people think about the preparation and ingredients behind their meals; maybe there should be a movement toward putting the kibosh on ridiculous food mashups too. It's OK for food to be pure. It's fine if your plate isn't filled with ridiculous, LSD-inspired color swatches. And maybe, just maybe, we can focus on making the best possible versions of venerated foods instead of creating wacky jackalope-esque combinations that the heavens never intended for humans to eat. Perhaps this is akin to the the forbidden fruit of yore—our own sprinkle-laden descent into temptation. The road to perdition is paved in cronuts, after all.