Bringing real Old World bagels to Philadelphia

Nothing in the food chain is immune from genetic modification.

Take the bagel.

In the century since its arrival on our shores, the breakfast staple has mutated far from its Eastern European roots, mass-baked into doughy, institutional blandness, and supersized into a pneumatic white-wallness.

The lone holdout in the Western Hemisphere is Montreal, which is to the bagel as San Francisco is to sourdough and Chicago is to the deep-dish pizza.

Poppy purists rave about bagels in Montreal, where they're treated as an artisanal product. They are bathed in water and honey (to allow the seasonings to stick better), and baked, Old World-style, in wood-fired ovens, which create irregular charring. They're a bit outside of round because they're hand-rolled, and slimmer than usual, with a larger hole.

O Canada, indeed.

Before this week, you could not find a Montreal-style bagel baked in Philadelphia. Then Larry Rosenblum and Mark Cosgrove, with investor Gigi Arnuti, opened Spread Bagelry, a takeout and cafe in a storefront on 20th Street near Rittenhouse Square.

"It's a simple story," says Rosenblum, who grew up in Northeast Philadelphia, where his bagel of choice as a boy was from the long-gone Brooklyn Bagels shop on Bustleton Avenue. His grandparents were bakers in the Jewish ghetto of Vilnius, Poland, during World War II.

After 10 years working in New York, Rosenblum returned to his hometown, bleating a common refrain among New Yorkers, "There are no good bagels in Philadelphia."

First, Rosenblum, 50, and Cosgrove, 54, who grew up in Elkins Park, considered opening hand-rolled-bagel stands, on the order of Auntie Anne's Pretzels.

During their due diligence, "somebody told us about Montreal bagels," Rosenblum said. "We went up there, and it was mind-blowing. Lines out the door everyplace."

They were there three days - their first and only time in Montreal - and did the rounds of the bagel shops, Cosgrove said. "They were very open and friendly with us," he said. "They showed us how they do it. The only thing is they didn't show us was their dough recipes."

Spread's is a secret, too. Cosgrove allowed that, like other Montreal-style bagels, it contains malt powder, to impart a nutty flavor.

For their oven, they said, they hired a man from Maine who travels the country, building brick bread ovens. "He's more of an artisan than a mason," Cosgrove said. The oven, which burns such hardwoods as hickory and oak, is 6 feet by 7 feet and weighs two tons.

They futzed for weeks, turning away potential customers, as they learned the oven's hot spots and nuances. They hope to do it again with more shops.

The result: a crunchy, highly seasoned bagel, not as thick, chewy, or heavy as traditional ones. There seems to be less salt in the dough, which accentuates a vague sweetness from the honey in the water bath. Sliced in half, they beg for a schmear of butter, cream cheese, or other spread.

Spread's bagel line ($2 each, $18 a dozen) includes sesame, poppy, an "everything," and - "because we have to," as Rosenblum says - a plain bagel and a sweet, fruit bagel.

The menu, served from the counter (there's seating in the window and in the back, as well as waiter service on weekends), includes custom spreads and egg sandwiches, and there's a coffee bar serving La Colombe.