Generally speaking, I don't consider myself a snob. There is, however, one area of life in which I am a snob, through and through: bagels.

I'm the biggest bagel snob I know. Bagels get me really excited, but if I eat one that doesn't quite "cut it," I will be in a state of disappointment for, I don't know, the next two hours. For this reason, I don't eat bagels just anywhere. In particular, I will stubbornly refuse to eat the bagels offered at any facility on my college campus or in the surrounding Connecticut area. "Those aren't bagels," I will say.

So, why? Why am I like this? The sad truth is I have been spoiled in the realm of bagels, horribly spoiled. I live in New York, you see, and here bagels are undeniably the best. Of course, there are some sub-par bagels that make their home in New York. There are sub-par bagels everywhere. In my personal experience, the bulk of ideal bagels are really just New York-bound, and I have simply been pampered to excess.

I am not a stickler for "gourmet" dining, really. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am very open-minded, flexible, and down to earth when it comes to eating. If my friends want to grab a burger for dinner or a donut for dessert, I will not write off a Whopper for a fancy bistro burger, or a chocolate-frosted Dunkin' Donut for a hibiscus, or some-other-sorta-bougie-flavored, donut. I recognize that each of these eats belong to a class of their own: Burger King does not seek to emulate The Spotted Pig, nor does Dunkin' Donuts wish to rival Dough. I will also crave these different classes equally at different times, depending on my mood. I see the goodness in all.

Bagels, however, are a little bit different, if you ask me. Though some eateries are getting fancier by the day and offer more eclectic flavor combinations than others, all bagels are prepared essentially for the same purposes, times, and places. Traditionally, they are made with a mixture of wheat flour, yeast, salt, and sometimes sweetener, boiled briefly, and then baked until just right. They are then sold and served as (a) single sandwiches to those looking for an easily satisfying lunch or (b) in large batches (alongside lox, cream cheese, and other such accoutrements) to families prepping for a Sunday morning meal.

All this being said, comparison of quality is rather simple. A good bagel is a good bagel is a good bagel is a good bagel. And once you go good bagel, going bad bagel is painful.

But how do you know if your bagel is good?

Call me biased, but one of the best places for bagels, in my opinion, exists about two minutes from my Long Island-bound home. This eatery is called Let There Be Bagels, and I blame it fully for my unreasonably high standards. As I write this article, I eat one of their sandwiches: a toasted cinnamon raisin with cream cheese, my personal favorite combination.

Here lies the ideal.

All bagels essentially have a similar bready taste, so texture is ultimately what distinguishes the good from the bad, if you ask me. And Let There Be Bagels just so happens to nail texture. As you can see in the above picture, the exterior crust of the LTBB cinnamon raisin is bubbly and golden brown. For all bagels, this sight is a promising one, and as tasty as it looks: it packs a crunch that gives way to delightfully contrasting interior that is soft, fluffy, and filled with sumptuous pockets of air.

In contrast, a bad bagel (like that found in my dining hall) is essentially a knock-off. Sure, it might look like a bagel, in that it's round, and tan, and has a hole in the center. It might even taste like a bagel, in that you recognize it as bread. But it doesn't feel like a bagel: its exterior is smooth and glossy, while its interior is rubbery and overworked. Sometimes you can't even tell the difference between the exterior and interior. Nuance is entirely lost. It is not bagel, but bagel-ish.

Bad Bagel kind of looks like this, a sub-par variety that I ate in New York. Yes. New York.

You don't necessarily dislike Bad Bagel. You eat it, and it gets the job done. But if you are a bagel maven, consuming it engenders paradox. Physically, you have been satisfied. Your hunger has dissipated. However, since you have tasted the good life and known Good Bagel, you can't help but feel something is missing. You are full, yet empty, and your foodie soul searches for something more.