From Bialystok With Love

I don’t remember literally eating my first bialy, but I remember eating my first bialy. It was an overcast morning. I was in elementary school—maybe it was third grade—and I was at a sleepover. Let’s call the birthday girl “Mesah Hardware.” Mesah had a single dad and her brother was the same age as mine. They also had a big fish tank in the living room. I think I could still pick her apartment building. The only thing I remember about the party was that Mesah offered me a bialy in the morning.

It was so good.

I love bialys.

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