A Bialy a Day...

...keeps the doctor away...?

I don't know if it does or not, but I do have a funny bialy story to share. It will show that I'm not the sharpest crayon in the box, but I don't care. We're giggling about it here, and I think it may bring a chuckle to lighten your day, so I'm going to share.

You know we live in the middle of nowhere, right? We're more likely to trip over farm boots than find a decent baked good around here. So, given the fact that my husband adores Italian cookies, I import them.

Thank God for Fed Ex.

A few days ago I called an Italian bakery in Brooklyn. I placed an order for Italian cookies. Then, I made my mistake. I made a request for one of my husband's favorite foods. I asked for bialys.

The lady at the bakery fell silent. I could hear customers in the store, ordering canolis and bread.

Finally I was informed, in a chilly tone of voice, that they don't sell bialys.

Yesterday the box of cookies arrived. My husband grinned from ear to ear when he opened the package. And, as I knew he would, the first cookie he chose was one of those seven-layer colored cookies with chocolate icing. My heart filled when I saw how happy he was.

After I got a couple of glasses of milk, I sat down with him and told him that I'd tried to buy bialys, too, but that the bakery lady shot me down cold.

He fell silent, just as the bakery woman had. Then, he laughed. Hard.

Me? Clueless. Absolutely no idea what was so funny. Loved it that he was so amused, but completely in the dark over the reason.

Evidently the joke is on me.

Italian bakeries don't generally sell bialys. Apparently I'll have to find a Jewish bakery for that.

Who knew?