(Almost) No Point.
When a Denver friend offered to take me out for breakfast on my birthday this week, I jumped at the chance. Gladly taking an "early lunch" on the second (perhaps least exciting) day of the week (Tuesday), there seemed no better way to spend the morning. And our options were limitless on where to go, though I kept going back to my favorite (comfort) food: the bagel. The only problem is I'm a New Yorker, born and raised, and bagels to me have a deeper, more historical meaning than anything inevitably produced in the Mile High City (where altitude destroys all good things flour). But, in the end, it didn't matter. Even a "Rocky Mountain" bagel is better than none, smeared with straight up plain cream cheese so as not to spoil the savory delight of "everything" from salt to poppy seeds to sesame seeds coating the exterior. Was it as good as a Brooklyn bagel? Never! But it was good enough, and the best birthday breakfast I could have asked for given our mileage from sea level. Enjoy!
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