Dear Friends and Family,       The Upper West Side took a hit when H&H Bagels tore down its sign, pulled out its extra oven, and abruptly announced it would close shop on the corner of 80th Street and Broadway after business Wednesday without giving our zip code's notoriously activist neighbors much time to organize and picket or even sue. Indeed a fervent loyalist hastily called a meeting in Riverside Park Monday night where Marc Fintz, the company's national business manager, said the owner was "waiting for a miracle," DNAinfo reported. With $300,000 owed in back rent, and the landlord resisting a deal, a miracle seemed unlikely. He indicated H&H might reopen elsewhere in the neighborhood..

   I recall the wrenching shock when we lost the Famous on West 72nd Street and the Tip Toe Inn, not to mention the Royale Bakery. The sublime Passover apple cake and those exquisite cookies have never been replaced. Somehow we survived and never got thinner.

   It's tragic when an institution disappears, But the bagels were a joke. Big fat-overinflated-33 flavors-American mongrels. Donuts with a crust. For some reason, people who should have known better, and people who never had a real bagel anyway, got it into their heads that a big blown-up blueberry bagel was the real thing. "Seinfeld," "Sex and the City," "You've Got Mail" gilded the fiction.

    What some people will rightly miss is stopping on the way home at 3 am to pick up a bag of warm bagels, especially on a blustery night. And the smell, that incredible fragrance. The attar of yeasty crust browning that drifted out onto Broadway.

    For those of us old enough to remember, a bagel is a wizened chewy little ring of dough that babies can teeth on. The only thing I've found close to the bagels of my childhood are mini bagels. I buy them at Fairway half a block from my pad.

    My H&H loyalist friends, wipe your tears and cross the street to Zabar's. They bake bread and croissants all day if you crave dough still hot from the oven. The health code doesn't permit releasing the perfume into the store. And they have the same inflated bagels. H&H vans will begin delivering them warm every two or three hours starting Thursday seven days a week. They are shopping for mini bagels at this very moment. And for H&H addicts, the way west 46th Street depot remains open.

    Heard a great Zabar's story from a friend. (Just because they advertise doesn't mean I should ignore an endearing tale.) My friend was unhappy that the coffee she'd been using for years didn't taste the same. So she stopped by the store to complain, and got a free ½ lb, "And it still didn't taste any better."

    A few days later the phone rang. She was shocked. It was 82-year-old Saul Zabar himself. (Of course it was Saul. He answers any complaint about coffee. He has been fussing over the coffee for 42 years, cupping and roasting and tasting.) "Let me send another sample of your blend but ground to a different coarseness," he said. "#5 instead if #7."

    It came. "It tasted much better, closer to what it had been in the past," she notes. "So I'm happy now."                  

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    Cesare's Spritzer    

   
    Fork Play colors today are Campari red and fresh-squeezed orange, a banner that says summer to me. I find it in a "Campari Sunset:" an ounce and a half of the bitter red stuff stirred into fresh squeezed O.J. on the rocks. The sweet tart citrus calms the intense bitterness, but not too much. Cesare's Spritzer at Salumeria Rosi is a more sophisticated mix, cool and fizzy, perfect for this Fourth of July weekend, though I've been happy sipping it before dinner when a blizzard rages outside.

    Pour a shot of Campari or Aperol into a chunky 6 oz. glass. Fill with rocks.

    Pour Prosecco over until bubbles almost reach the top of glass. Add a spritz of tonic. Hang a slice of orange on the edge. Sip.

    No, Campari, Aperol and Salumeria Rosi are not advertisers, but they ought to be.         

   "My artist friend wants a breakfast place in the West 50s to take the owner of his new gallery that isn't too corporate," came an email to Ask Gael. I immediately thought of Keith McNally's breakfast havens - Balthazar, Pastis and Pulino - all geographically impossible.

    It was easy enough to single out hotel breakfasts, starting with Nougatine at Jean George in the Trump International and Print at Ink 48, which is about as west as you can get without falling into the Hudson. I suggested the over-the-top decadence of Kishke Benedict at the Brooklyn Diner and Norma's at Le Parker Meridien with its duck confit hash. Click here to read the latest Ask Gael. Have you got a favorite spot for breakfast in your zip code? Email me please. I'll add it to my list.