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Larry King wanted the Perfect Bagel. When I worked as a waitress in Beverly Hills, he’d come in for lunch almost every Thursday. The hostesses always gave him the best table, a corner booth, which just so happened to be in my regular section. I don’t remember his order. 1/
I do remember that most of his body weight was concentrated in his lower half; a piece of information I was relieved to have. I had long worried that if his famously pointy shoulders were a sign of not getting enough to eat. (I’m Latin and worry about these things). 2/
Larry could never find a great bagel in Los Angeles. This plagued him. He thought about it a lot. “It’s the water,” he said. There are certain properties in New York City water that produce the perfect dough for the Perfect Bagel. I’d heard that about the pizza, I told him. 3/
