Need an Extra Kidney?

     Recently my Colombian friend, Rocio, and I brought my ailing poodle to the Sarasota clinic of veterinarian Dr. K (as his office staff calls him).  Even though I know he shortened his name because the longer version is too ethnic for anybody to pronounce correctly, I can’t stop making the connection to another more notorious Dr. K.  You know the one- the man equally revered and despised the world over, but forever connected to the sobriquet “Dr. Death.”

       Now my Dr. K, local healer of Sarasota puppies, is a very sweet man.  From the many recommendations I’ve received about him, he’s also a great vet with obviously no connection to the other Dr.K whatsoever.  But I’m a sensitive sort with a vivid imagination so when I had to leave my dog for a minor procedure with him, I required some sustenance.

     “What you need is a pandebono; it’s delicioso,” Rocio suggested when she saw the color drain from my face outside the doctor’s office. “No, what I need is a vodka tonic, immediatemente,” I replied. (Although I’d have been game for a pandebono if I'd known what it was.)  Rocio is a dear old friend of mine, so when she said I needed a pandebono, I listened.  We jumped in the car and headed to the Latin food market and restaurant Mi Sitio, on Webber and Beneva.  Neither of us had ever been there before, but when we entered, we were greeted warmly by the owner, Juan.

     Before getting down to the purpose of our visit, Rocio and Juan, complete strangers five minutes earlier, discussed towns they mutually knew in Colombia, favorite family recipes they loved and the location of Sarasota’s bilingual churches.  Enough already, you two; what of the elusive pandebono?

     There they were: small rolls sitting on the counter looking like plain fat dumplings. “It’s the Colombian bagel!” Rocio exclaimed persuasively when she saw my nonplussed reaction. She knew I thought a bagel with a shmear is one of life’s greatest gifts, so who was I to say no to a pandebono?  We bought two of the cheese filled delicacies  (a tasty reminder of the wise adage not to judge a book by its cover) and sat down at the counter to eat them with their customary chaser of hot chocolate.

     Soon we were joined in lively conversation by other Colombian and Cuban customers in the market. By the end of our snack, I swear they would have donated their kidneys to each other if one of them had asked. Eventually, Rocio and I, full and contented, returned to liberate my dog from Dr. K’s clutches and found the pup happy, calm and healthy.

     The curative power of a pandebono got me thinking about how most of us living in Sarasota started off in other states and are now, far from the comfort foods of our childhoods. If Rocio could find a Colombian pandebono in Sarasota, then I could find a real New York Bagel in this town as well.

     After some unsuccessful attempts I was directed to the Lox n’ Egg on 41. Upon entering the restaurant, the delicious smell of freshly baked bagels brought me back to Sunday mornings as a child in the city.  Back in the day, my father would rise early to buy the bagels, lox and whitefish my family devoured for breakfast while we read the multi sectioned treasure known as the Sunday New York Times.  If there is such a thing as heaven, that was it.

     Scattered between the noisy tables of happy diners at Lox n’ Egg, I could easily spot the look of need in a handful of solo diners.  One man in particular had it bad.  He stared at his bagel as he brought it ever so carefully to his waiting mouth.  I took a gamble and asked “Is it as good as H & H bagels in Manhattan?”  He tore his eyes away from his food abruptly and stared at me as if I were his long lost sister. “You wouldn’t believe that these bagels here are just as good as those!” he replied with a big smile. “You’ve gotta’ try them. My other New York friends meet me here on Sundays and we get every type, although my favorite is poppy seed.  Get your order and sit with me,” he continued. “I wanna’ hear your opinion.”

     He was right; the poppy seed was the best.  I didn’t think life in Sarasota could get much better, but come on, everybody needs their own pandebono when the chips are down (or you’re afraid your Dr. is a psychopath).  I told my new friend that I’d try to stop by occasionally to meet the group for Sunday bagels.  But now that I’ve experienced the joy and camaraderie a pandebono can bring, I'll be returning there quite often.

And let's face it, while the merits of a New York bagel are significant, you just never know when your number comes up and you might find yourself in dire need of an organ transplant.  Those pandebonos are looking better and better.

Please read by other blog:http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/