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The Hole Story
89 years after its founding, Fairmount Bagel remains in good hands...even if they may belong to a ghost
There's a ghost in Fairmount Bagel. There's a phantom on the premises, a spirit of bygone days that simply won't leave 74 Avenue Fairmount West. Unlike most poltergeists, however, its presence is hardly unwelcome in the century-old building. In fact, bakery owner Irwin Shlafman can't imagine life without his grandfather's specter around. "I think I am my grandfather reincarnate," the third-generation Fairmount proprietor states. "There are so many things connecting him and me, to say nothing of the connection he will always have with this business, that I feel like I am really doing the right thing with my life: doing what my grandfather did and doing it the way he did it."
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Sure — it's hard to believe. Yet the famed Montreal baker is the kind of man who ensures the only holes in his story are the ones found in the middle of his bagels. Irwin Shlafman has a smorgasbord of evidence to prove this incredible bond with a man he never met.
Like the physical similarities between the two — compare photographs of both men in their early '20s, and they look like identical twins. Or the remarkable age coincidence surrounding the bakery's changing of the guard — Irwin's father, Isadore, was 53 when he gave control of Fairmount to his 23-year-old son, Jack; Irwin was 23 when he succeeded his 53-year-old father at the helm. Or the location of Irwin's office, right in the chamber that used to be his grandfather's bedroom. And to hear Irwin tell it, that's just the beginning. "There's so much," he says, a note of pride evident in his voice. "My grandfather died two years before I was born, but I have always felt a closeness to him. I can't explain it. But I work every day in the business he began. I sit every day right where he passed away. How could we not have a connection?"
"I can't explain it. But I work every day in the business he began. I sit every day right where he passed away. How could we not have a connection?"
So if a ghost is leading the way in Montreal's most famous bagel spot, it's worth getting to know him. It requires a trip to a foreign time and place, 89 years and one ocean away. The place is Russia; the year is 1919. Here's our ghost — a young man ready to change his life. Desperate to escape from the Russian Civil War, he makes the decision to leave his home, forfeit the only life he ever knew. One day, he takes the plunge, takes his belongings and climbs aboard a crowded boat bound for somewhere. He doesn't know where. He doesn't know what he will do when he gets there. Isadore Shlafman only he is making the right move, the move to start a new life in the place he knows as the New World.
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He arrives in that New World weeks later, dazed and alone. It's strange, this New World. Strange people, strange city, strange language. Someone tells him the city is called Montreal — his New World has a name. Yet it doesn't have the comforts of the home he loved, the traditions he left behind — the festivals, the holidays, the customs, the food. Especially the food. Montreal's Russian immigrant population is growing, every émigré taking a piece of the Old Country with them, but too many things are left behind. Too many favorite things that Montreal has never heard of. So Isadore Shlafman decides to change this, to introduce one corner of his homeland to his new Canadian quarters. He decides to bring the world of the bagel to the people of Montreal.
It's not easy. Montreal doesn't think they want the bagel. Montreal doesn't know what a bagel is. They've never heard of the circular yeast-dough creations, baked in brick ovens and steeped in myths. According to legend, an Austrian baker formed the first bagel in 1783 as a tasty tribute to Polish King Jan Sobieski, the celebrated horseman who had just saved the region from Turkish invaders. Looking to honor the king's equestrian victories, the baker gave his creation the Austrian word for stirrup — beugel — and molded the dough in an unusual shape with a hole in the middle. Over time, the concoction becomes popular across Eastern Europe, deemed beigel ("ring") in Germany, bugel ("bracelet") in Czechoslovakia, beygl in Poland and Russia. It's a sensation by the time Isadore Shlafman tries his first, a scrumptious invention that can serve as meal or snack and always taste delicious. Yet Montrealers don't know this, not yet. Shlafman will have to convince them.
First, though, he has to learn the truth: no bagel bakeries in Montreal. No bagel bakeries in all of Canada, in fact, a truth Shlafman learns when he goes looking for a place to work and discovers there isn't a holey dough establishment to be found. So the man who came to the New World embarks on new territory. He opens a small shop on St.-Lawrence Boulevard, then referred to as "The Main" in Montreal. He invests in huge copper vats, works on constructing a brick wood-fired oven. There, in that small shop on St.-Lawrence, Canadians can taste bagels for the first time.
Not that they're knocking down the door for the chance. "In the beginning, my grandfather baked for wholesale," Irwin Shlafman says. "People didn't stop by and pick up some bagels for lunch or a snack. His patrons were mostly restaurants and bakeries, and the only people who really looked for the bagels were Montreal's Jewish population. It wasn't that the bagels were bad. Other people simply didn't know what they were."
Isadore Shlafman struggles at first. Yet every evening, his ovens are firing, baking the dough until the wholesale buyers arrive at 5 o'clock in the morning. Slowly, over 30 years with plenty of toil and very little sleep, he carves out a niche in the City of Montreal. In 1949, he semi-retires, moving with his family around the corner to a cottage on Avenue Fairmount. Knocking down the back wall of the house, he builds his big brick bagel oven right in his own residence, allowing him to be connected to his business at all times. He instills this work ethic in his son, Jack, to whom he passes the reins of Fairmount Bagel that very year. When he passes away in 1953, Isadore Shlafman — "Grandfather Isadore" to today's bagel aficionados — leaves behind a small but growing business, secure in its new home and poised to leave a mark of quality on Montreal's culinary scene.
Yet even after he leaves this world, Isadore never really leaves Fairmount Bagel. In an era when automation is in vogue for all forms of business, Jack decides to keep things the same, using Isadore's original recipes and methods to make their bagels. He keeps the copper kettles of honey water, in which the raw dough is dipped to give the bagels improved luster and taste. He keeps the giant wood-fired oven, in which every bagel is baked until the crust turns golden brown. Most importantly, he keeps the traditions alive and well, showcasing Isadore's handiwork for everyone to see.
"I decided I wanted to do this when I was six years old"
Two impressionable eyes see it often. They belong to a five-year-old boy, a child already preparing to take his place in the family legacy. They take in the oven, the kettles, the huge mounds of dough. They take in his father, the man in charge of running it all. And sometime, on one of those visits to Fairmount Bagel with his mother, Irwin Shlafman decides that someday, the family bagel bakery will be his.
"I decided I wanted to do this when I was six years old," Irwin says. "I can't tell you why. I've just always been comfortable in this place. This is what my grandfather did, this is what my father did, and this is what I always felt was right for me to do."
Before long, he has his chance, joining his father in the business in 1979. By now, bagels are finally hitting their stride among Montreal foodies, and the demand for the holey items is higher than ever. Temptation lurks to change their ways, to introduce modern mechanized methods into the bagel-making process. Yet Jack and Irwin never change. "It wouldn't be right, because it wasn't what my grandfather intended," Irwin says. "He created something that works. Who are we to change it?"
"We never close at Fairmount Bagel, so there's no need to put a lock on our door. It won't be used."
Like all Fairmount employees, Irwin works his way up from the bottom. In 1981, the bakery begins staying open 24 hours a day, leaving Irwin with a place on the bagel graveyard shift. For 10 years, he works from 4 p.m. to 6 a.m., keeping the fires burning all through the night. "That's called paying your dues," he says simply. "I think it was worth it."
In 1997, Jack dies, leaving Irwin alone atop the bagel bakery's food chain. Grandson takes over grandfather's business with pleasure, a move he sees as the next logical step toward his destiny. Eleven years later, he's still there, serving a clientele greater than any Isadore ever imagined. Fairmount Bagel never closes anymore, open 24 hours every day of the year and hosting eager customers at every hour of the day. A few years ago, Irwin bought a new door for the bakery — a portal with no lock. "We don't need it," the master baker states. "We never close at Fairmount Bagel, so there's no need to put a lock on our door. It won't be used."
The around-the-clock schedules may shock Irwin's new employees, but the 24/7 operation thrills Plattsburgh, NY resident Thomas Braga. Once a French professor at Plattsburgh State University, Braga now escorts tourists on "Sites and Sweetmeats of Montreal", a food-driven look at the city through the kaleidoscope of its many ethnic neighborhoods. "You provide the wheels," the retired pedagogue says, "and I provide the commentary." And no matter what time of day the tour takes place, Braga knows he has an exciting stop for his guests on Fairmount Avenue. "I prefer the New York City bagel," Braga says, "because I prefer the heavier texture, and I am very sensitive to texture. But if you go to Montreal, you have to visit Fairmount. It may be one of the most famous culinary establishments in all of Canada."
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For Montreal native Ken Hwang, however, Fairmount Bagel is more than a famous site. In fact, Hwang says he has never actually visited the legendary bakery. Yet he's known their product for years, making bimonthly trips to a local grocery store to replenish his personal supplies. "I've had the New York style of bagels," Hwang says, "(which are) denser and less sweet. And I've had the St.-Viateur bagel (the creation of Fairmount's local rival). Fairmount is still my favorite."
Fairmount's fans around the world agree with Hwang's assessment. "We're an institution here now," Irwin says. "People come to Montreal from all over, and they look for two things in this city: smoked meat on St. Lawrence and bagels on Fairmount." Where do they come from? "All over," the owner laughs. "I have a Swiss Air pilot who comes twice a year and buys a six-month supply." Recently, a stretch limo pulled up in front of the bakery and a suit-clad chauffeur walked into Fairmount Bagel. Whipping out a Japanese-language tour book, he pointed at a picture of the bakery and asked Irwin if he was in the right place. Isadore's struggles to attract customers couldn't seem further away.
"If you buy a bagel here today, you will taste the same bagel that your grandfather would have tasted if he bought bagels from us."
Yet if the ghost of Grandfather Isadore does indeed spend time in Fairmount Bagel, he likely is pleased with what he sees. Fortune and fame haven't spurred Irwin to change anything about the bagel bakery, a fact he cites as his key to success. "This is the way my grandfather made them (the bagels)," Irwin states, "and this is the way we will make them as long as I am here. If you buy a bagel here today, you will taste the same bagel that your grandfather would have tasted if he bought bagels from us."
Perhaps Irwin Shlafman really is his grandfather reincarnated. To hear him talk, one could close their eyes and imagine they are hearing the original owner welcoming clients to his shop in 1919, trying to eke out a living with a new product in the New World. The recipes and methods are the same, but so is the spirit, the drive, the pride in their now-renowned product. "We do what we do," Irwin says, "and this is the only thing that we do, and we do it better than anyone else." Somewhere, in the bakery his own spirit built, Grandfather Isadore has to be smiling.
Filling In The Holes:
No records exist to tell the whole story — or the hole story, as the case may be —of the bagel.While the Shlafman family's story remains an icon of living history within the walls of their Avenue Fairmount shop, the mysteries of the broader bagel world remain harder to crack than a sack full of poppy seeds.
No true records reveal the exact dates of when the bagel was brought to North America, nor is there an accepted moment in history when the now-famous bread product became popular in U.S. and Canadian cities. All one can do is stare at the cracks in the tale of how the bagel came to America — and try to fill in the holes as best you can.
Eastern European Jewish immigrants brought the bagel to North America, men like Isadore Shlafman bringing one of the favorite foods of their heritage to countries that had never even heard the word “bagel” before. Many settled in Canada, particularly in Montreal, but many others landed in the United States, especially in the Lower East Side of Manhattan in New York City.
Thus was born a testy and tasty rivalry which still burns brightly today: Which city bakes the better bagel, Montreal or New York? Nobody knows the true answer, but many aficionados from both sides of the debate certainly think they do.
While no definite date exists for the establishment of bagel bakeries in the Big Apple, the first bagel union was formed in New York sometime in the period between 1910 and 1915. Bagel Bakers Local #338, a group of 300 craftsmen purported to have “bagels in their blood”, became one of the most exclusive labor organizations in American history. Membership was strictly limited to the owners of 36 union bagel bakeries in New York City and New Jersey, and the only way into the select group of bakers was to be a male born into the family of one of these few shop owners.
Apprenticeships and jobs at the bakeries also were scarce. One New York newspaper even went as far as to note that it “was easier to gain admittance to a university than it was to earn a spot baking the bagel” in this period of New York bagel history.
Eventually, though, the bagel monopoly ceased to exist. Tired of the poor working conditions and the stifling conditions of Bagel Bakers Local, many apprentices —often the sons of the current bakery owners — began leaving the city to start their own bagel shops elsewhere. Throughout the 1950s and'60s, bagel bakeries were opened across the United States, with practically every major city gaining access to this previously-unknown food.
In the '50s, prepackaged bagels began appearing on grocery store shelves, allowing customers who couldn't buy their baked goods fresh from the bakery access to the bagels in other places. A decade later, frozen bagels were introduced, giving people a chance to discover the donut-shaped product even if they lived hundreds of miles from the nearest bakery — a revelation that brought bagels to the most rural outposts of the U.S. and Canada for the first time.
Today, bagels hold a secure place as one of the world's favorite breakfast and snack foods, a revelation which came relatively late to North America but a discovery that has made the product hotter than a wood-burning oven to American foodies in modern times.
And the debate still rages: Which is better, the New York bagel containing malt and salt and boiled in water before baking, or the Montreal bagel made with malt and egg but no salt and boiled in honey-sweetened water before being paced in the hot oven? No right answer exists for this matter of personal taste. After all, in the story of the North American bagel, it's only right that some holes are still left unfilled.