I have an embarrassing confession:  I don’t know where I live.  I tell people, with confidence, that I live in South Slope (aka South Park Slope).  With it’s amorphous borders, South Slope seems like a realtor’s invention to lure renters further into the heart of Brooklyn.  Some say that I’m in Sunset Park while others tell me I’m living in Windsor Terrace.

Where ever I live, it’s still New York–the land of bagel snobs, where a bagel store is never far off.  So it’s no small matter when I say that Terrace Bagels is my favorite bagel spot.

There is always a long line at this cash only establishment.  Behind the counter is a crew of four or five weary looking souls.  Every day it looks like at least one employee was up all night.  Even if they are sleep deprived, they keep the line moving and the orders strait with a New York briskness and edge.  Know what you want when you get to the counter.  The attitude isn’t charming, it’s short, curt, and necessary to bring order to chaos and to keep the wait short.

The stereo typical New York service is well worth it for the bagels.  They are exactly what a bagel should be, a fresh snappy doughy ring.  (If it reminds you of bread it’s not a bagel!) And, unlike at Murray’s Bagel’s, you can get your bagel toasted.  You can top your choice, from a wide selection, of bagels with a range of cream cheese flavors.

Whether it’s a solo bagel for me alone or a half dozen of em’ with a tub of cream cheese, I think that some of Terrace Bagels’ fine product makes it into the house on a weekly basis.  With this place just a few blocks away, I’m happy to call 17th Street home, whatever anyone else wants to call it.

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