“What is a baGEL”, asked the woman in line in front of me. Okay, it was a long time ago, yet in my lifetime, and in a town of some size, a university town. Anyway, that’s ok. Regionality is disappearing in countless precious ways. It’s a good thing, although I grieve it. Global is the glowball of peace. And yet. So good to see something you have not seen before, foodwise especially. So, yeah, she had not seen a bagel, lucky woman. Her town had not been subsumed.
All photos by Scott Suchman for Bullfrog Bagels
Unabashedly self indulgent post here. The pictures following are work that I do. How I get paid. And also a major part of my identity. The accent needs to shift and the syllable on which to focus is life. One syllable. In the meantime, constructing a baGEL is what I do during work hours. I love the handling of it, the tactile, visceral mess of it all. The upcloseness.
Why I think any human enters a period of time when they have “earned” the right to not work is not beyond me. It is a social construct. We are built to work. Work is survival. Work for an older person looks different than work for a younger person. Still, it is work. Purpose, contribution, work, identity.
When I choose to no longer work as a food stylist – well aware that to have a choice is a privilege – my identity will morph, organically I hope. Ultimately organically, as I will become compost. Until then, carrying on with touching, constructing, handling, working.
The Lunch Encounter 
I’m in awe. Of the writing, of the sentiment and, OMG, those pictures. Those ‘gels.
Thanks a million, LRoy! That means so much to me coming from you! Wish I could join you on the 21st for a Joe, but happy you are representing!