Mike B.
Yelp
Mystery Novel Review for Baked By Yael:
As the confusion set in, his head started to swim. It was like a panicked violin concerto took over his senses. He looked slowly to the right then to the left.
Everything that he thought he knew...
All that he assumed...
Wrong.
Dead wrong.
the whole time? The Whole Time? THE WHOLE TIME?!
So he started picking apart his experience from the Farmers Market. Dissecting it with careful precision. What did he miss? Why would he come to such drastic conclusions without the slightest preponderance of evidence.
It was a fantasy world that he had constructed for himself. A matrix of his own doing.
...Or was it so drastic of a conclusion to make.
A young friendly woman with wirey light hair pulled back into a pony tail grabs her small cash box.
"Hi how are you doing!"
" Oh I'm fine.. how can I help you"
She responds in an innocent soft voice.
"Oh... I just wanted to know how much a dozen bagels would be"
"Oh that's 24 dollars"
She shuffles her cash box, "I'm sorry, I'm just about set up. I'll be with you in just a second"
Two dollars per bagel. That seems like a lot.
How much do bagels cost again, he thought to himself?
Whatever it was, he wasn't in the position to bargain. He was throwing a brunch in 3 hours and had several other critical stops he needed to make. Including Costco on a Saturday morning.
"OK... I'll take a dozen!"
As she loaded the bagels into the quintessential large brown bagel bag, he realized they were a bit smaller than other bagels; total hallmark.
Ah yes, these were homemade bagels. Definitely hand-shaped by the looks of them. Little did she know that he had made bagels of his own before. And little did she know, he could see the thinning dough near the bagel connection from a mile away.
But having made bagels before, he knew that process, and chutzpah it took to have these hundred-something bagels, all ready by 9am in the morning when the market opened.
If he tried to make his own bagels that morning, it would almost be assured that the brunch wouldn't be served anywhere close to 11am when his guests were planning on coming over.
She loads them into the bag that is stamped lightly with the Baked By Yael Logo. On such a large bag, the logo captured a small USB sized portion of the top middle. Almost fading waldo-like into the brown background.
This was a small farmers market. Seven to maybe eight vendors. This is where young woman who want to start bagel businesses get their start in the trade.
Yael was living the Shark Tank dream. Soon, she'd open up her brick and morter and sell bagels to hungry Washingtonians in need of a real deal authentic bagel.
She would turn her profits from her small farmers market stand into just enough to pay a lease for a few months at a 200 sq ft spot on H street and she would take one of the biggest risks in her entire life; becoming one of hundreds of city bakeries. Luckily for her, it would be in a city that thirsts for the type of authenticity that she has in ample supply.
There's just one problem with that:
That wasn't Yael!
Those bagels weren't baked at home!
And that brick and mortar that was a glint in the eyes of that young woman already existed and was pumping out cake pops and bagels galore at break neck speed!
The bagel that he had this morning, lies
The bagels that he served at the brunch, lies
The bagels he will eat from the freezer soon enough, lies
He got so wrapped up in his own self constructed dream of this bagel stand that he dreamt up a dream world.
Luckily, as that world of fantasy collapsed around him, he would still have delicious chewy soft bagels to soothe his shock. Exhausted from the thought of it, he takes a bite in. His teeth sink with ease; relief.