By Jessica Grindstaff1
I’m going to say some unpopular things here. I don’t eat bagels, and really no other 45-year-old woman that I know living in New York City does. We all have our own version of what we think is healthy eating, and it often equates to slightly disordered eating. None of us eat gluten, and frankly, I’m surprised that the bread trucks even come into New York City anymore. But to be honest, I don’t really love bagels anyway.
I have recently had a change of heart, or rather, I’ve opened a small bagel-shaped window of exception sparked by a love of mine from childhood, Chris Moss. Yes, like Christmas. This was not a romantic love, rather the kind of love that you only encounter as a five-year-old when you meet a nine-year-old neighbor boy that you have to literally look up to in order to chat. Â
Chris Moss lived down the street from my grandmother‘s house. At first, I was mostly delighted by the proximity of his name phonetically to Christmas but I soon discovered that he lived in a strange, sprawling, labyrinthine, modern white house that I never fully understood the beginning or end of. To further exoticize the experience of visiting his home, it was filled with harps because his mother was a harpist, and there was also oddly an inclusion of a telephone shaped like a frog that loomed large for me. Chris, four years my senior, was, of course, qualified in the 1980s to be my babysitter. This mostly consisted of me playing hide-and-seek with him and my sister and being left in places for a very long time as no one came to find me.Â
I will tell you that I loved him, that I was five or six; it was a simple, true love that sounds out like a clear bell to this day. I have probably only seen him less than a dozen times in my adult life. One of the last times that I saw Chris was in Los Angeles, where he had moved after a multi-year battle with addiction and a recovery from the NYC real estate scene. We were poolside at a friend’s place, and there, he also told me he loved me. This declaration was presented in a wide, open, spacious way that only a person with a big heart and no self-consciousness loves other people and sees them. He told me he was living in Malibu and writing a book about cats. He shared some illustrations with me, childlike, and asked which he might use for the cover. I was confused. It was unusual, like the frog phone in the house filled with harps. I learned that the book was about cats and lucid dreaming, which made it make a little more sense.
Years passed and sadly, my friendship with Chris became relegated to Instagram, which is not unlike many long-held and long-distance friendships in the modern age. Through my handheld device, I became aware that he’d fallen in love and married a majestical woman. Spellcheck informs me that this is not a word. I beg to differ. Arielle is majestical. I learned that she makes bagels and drives around on a bicycle in Los Angeles, where no one eats bagels or rides bicycles, and then sells the bagels. This phenomenon of a woman joining forces with Chris, brings us to the story of my new relationship with the bagel.Â
I hadn’t been to Los Angeles since Chris and Arielle opened their brick-and-mortar shop called Courage Bagels. Aptly named for two courageous young people opening a bagel shop in a city that is more carb-averse than New York City.Â
This past spring, my husband and I decided to take our first trip without our children together in twelve years to Los Angeles to celebrate a friend's wedding. Having many friends on the West Coast and only two days we had to choose judiciously who would see. Clearly, the wedding was top priority, next Erik’s brother and his wife and their dog called Stick and finally, his best friend, film composer Danny Elfman who had moved to Encino… that’s love.
For me it was clear that this trip needed to include a visit to Courage Bagels. I wrote to Arielle on Instagram and we decided that it would be fun to surprise Chris. Erik and I walked from our hotel downtown ( another taboo activity in Los Angeles—walking) and arrived an hour later at Courage to see a line snaking around the block, which I understood to be a two-hour wait.Â
I can tell you that it was a beautiful reunion, and meeting Arielle was just as I had expected. Her ebullient energy and Chris's sage-like countenance form two beacons of light shining together. A wattage so gorgeous to sit with.
There are practically as many people working behind the counter in the kitchen where the bagels are being made on-site as there are standing outside, waiting for them.Â
We talked with Arielle and Chris about visiting with farmers—having an amazing team and finding the joy in ordinary things. It became clearer and clearer that Courage had less to do with bagels and had everything to do with humans. Yes, it’s courageous to have a bagel shop in Los Angeles, but what’s more courageous is to take a look at every single step of your business model and do your best to make it better. This is rare. It’s expensive. And it’s specialness shows in every bite.
But we’re here to talk about the bagel. This was unlike any bagel that I’ve encountered in my life. Maybe, I’ve never had a real bagel—It’s slightly burnt, with an incredibly light and spacious interior, and is shatteringly crispy. Qualities that Arielle and Chris dreamt up together on their journey. The tomatoes atop are so red and so perfect that you feel like you are sitting next to Alice Waters. She has chosen to share her very own cultivated tomatoes from her backyard. There is IKURA on this bagel if you so desire, and yes, yes I do. Â
I made a huge mess of myself while eating and talking to these luminescent human beings and sharing the paths we’ve each been taking over the past few years. I was nourished, transformed, bolstered, and feeling slightly more courageous.Â
In their small gift shop shelf, you can buy all the merch. I walked out with a sweatshirt and hat. You can also buy the aforementioned book by Chris, Lucid Dreaming for Cats and this is where it all starts to come together, dear reader. The book, part autobiography, part cat fanzine (also unpopular, I hate cats), part lucid dreaming instructional handbook is transcendental.
All to say that if you find yourself at Courage eating a bagel, you may come out with the ability to lucid dream and with the belief that your best dreams can become your life.
I rather think the two-hour wait is worth it.
Name drops: Courage Bagels
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Alexa Bartle2. You can see more of her work here.
Jessica Grindstaff is a director, writer and artist living in New York City. All of her work is largely based on collage and achieved through deep collaboration with luminaries and luminous children.Â
Alexa Bartle is an illustrator based in Hamburg, Germany. After years as a children’s illustrator, she now focuses on editorial work, combining simple shapes, vibrant colours, and unique characters. Inspired by people and their stories, Alexa captures moments that resonate deeply. Besides drawing, she runs an Instagram blog where she shares her creative journey and connects with a like-minded audience.