- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — The bagel that won the West
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — a deli of sorts
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — These are your grandpa’s bagels
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — Gefilte fish sucks, but bagels don’t have to
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — no forks given
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — a bagel a day
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — food is like time travel
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — born and bread
- A roll with a hole and a whole lotta heart: A California bagel story — Jew-ish
To build off of Pop’s Bagels owner Zachary Liporace’s final remark from the last entry, the Jews are not gatekeeping bagels. They aren’t the Kidz Bop of the breakfast buffet. They aren’t exclusively “By Jews for Jews.” While bagels will always be pantry staples in most Jewish and Jew-ish households because of their religious relevancy, everyone CAN, SHOULD and, for the most part, DOES enjoy them. And nothing puts the proof in the dough’s rise quite like Mustard’s Bagels in Culver City — which content creator, @ricklox and food journalism outlet, Eater, put in their top bagels of 2025 rankings and even my bagel buddy, Sam, who gets his fix from Bueller’s Bagels on West Olympic and Westwood Blvd, said were “pretty good.” Despite not being a Jew himself, Mustard’s co-owner, Kyle Glanville, acknowledges they are a staple of deli culture and feels, “some responsibility to that.” Mustard’s exists in that delectable interplay between tradition and experimentation, all the while Glanville never loses the thread of beginning unrecognizably a bagel; for risk of losing the Los Angeles and New York Jews who have a profound, personal relationship with their local mom and pop. “As a visitor to that culture, I think we tread lightly and try to be as respectful as we can,” Glanville stated. With the way to anyone’s heart being the stomach, food teaches traditional cooking, or in our case, baking methods, pioneered by a culture. Through his repetitions with a dough hook and boiling water, Glanville understands the dedication and care that goes into making this Jewish, talismanic symbol, saying that he got his bagels to be, “pretty good, but never, never great,” knowing there is always a higher level to unlock. Even beyond the engagement with Hebrew culture through hand rolling these delicacies, for Glanville, bagels are also a family endeavor. Similar to Trevor Faris of Hank’s Bagels, when not at work, Mustard’s owner spent all of his time thinking about his job. Wanting to embark on a project his kids would love, Glanville knew they could make a great bagel. So he partnered with his brother, Brent Glanville, and even has his son rolling dough on Sundays, with his wife, for whom the bakery is named after, helps out on occasion. On the formation of Mustard’s Bagels, Glanville lovingly remarked how, “it really is meant to be something that sort of brings us closer and… it’s devoted to honoring our family.” This notion doesn’t stop at its inception but weaves a delectable narrative into the menu as well. The Deanna Michelle bagel is named after Glanville’s wife, Deanna Michelle Mustard. The sandwich itself is even inspired by one of their family’s favorite spots for a special occasion dinner: Din Tai Fung. Their Nova salmon bagel, the Grandpa Sam, honors Deanna Michelle Mustard’s grandfather, who was a salmon fisherman in Alaska. As for their “desserty” breakfast treat, Glanville names it for his daughter Louise, “whose nickname is Weezy and she loves Nutella and bananas and sweet things.” Glanville’s bagels echo the familial sentiments that boiled bread houses in it’s very center. But where his bagels differ, however, is in his approach. When it comes to what goes into a bagel, even Glanville acknowledges the romanticized New York standard of making them with high-protein bread flours and a dough conditioner: “That was pretty much it, kind of across the board; I think in New York now, you’re not going to see much beyond that.” That in mind, a Mustard’s bagel, on the other hand, emphasizes a sourdough-forward dough, backed by natural heirloom grain flour to enhance its flavor and texture. He points to his bagel’s rustic character, nutty notes and a tender crumb that Sam and I definitely noticed when we went to his shop. And yes, because I know you’re all asking, Sam did order the Grandpa Sam; he had a good laugh about that. Beyond just the dough, Glanville admits to pushing the envelope of what a bagel sandwich can be. When taste testing their scallion cream cheese, Glanville proclaimed, “Gosh! This would be so dope if it just had a little bit of miso, right?” For their Nova lox bagel, it has the traditional onions, but just like the Number Three from Hank’s, they are pickled. Even the capers are fried to a crisp. While not very traditional at the end of the day, the team at Mustard’s boldly goes where no man has gone before. “I think we see the canvas as being very expansive to create flavors that are interesting,” Glanville said. Through all of this innovation, Glanville further proves how LA is finally creating a bagel culture of its own to rival the likes of New York and Montreal. To Glanville, the emerging California bagel is, “sourdough forward, crunchy bagels, oftentimes festooned with ornate, beautiful produce; that’s not a thing that really existed before.” Despite the breaks in the bagel scripture, Mustard’s brings to light one of the best parts of the bagel and the reason it has been able to survive for so long: its adaptability. Religious tradition is a “tradition” for a reason — because it sets the cornerstones of what that faith or people stand for and believe in. It has stayed the same since Moses was given the 10 Commandments back in the days of the Old Testament and these traditions will prosper into the future. Have a bar or bat mitzvah. Go home every Friday to celebrate Shabbat. Don’t eat bacon — your arteries will thank you for it. These are all beautiful aspects of Judaism because their staying power has allowed people to maintain and build community for eons. But while there is beauty in tradition, it also exists in evolution; and that’s where the bagel comes in. Gefilte fish will always suck, but the bagel is able to adapt and change to where the Jewish community and breakfast lovers as a whole are today to become a reflection of our current moment.
Chapter six: Gefilte fish sucks, but bagels don’t have to
