Ridgewood's Bagelicious Defies Convention

has been toasting the town's bagels for decades and it all happened after a chance meeting with a party-goer, according to the owner of the renowned bagel shop at 19 N. Broad St.

"A woman says to me, 'I was at a party and met a man named Nicky Russo; he just bought a building on Broad Street,'" says Kim Fiske, owner of Bagelicious. "I used to drive by there all the time and say, 'This would be the perfect spot for a bagel store!'"

After signing a 5-year lease for a sum of $1,100 a month with , Fiske was in business. "I built this store with a heroin addict (a carpenter) in six weeks, working practically 24/7," he laughs, reminiscing. "The year was 1983."

He wasn't new to the bagel biz when he signed on the dotted line. By age 27 he was running Bagel Boys in Wayne off Hamburg Turnpike and had also co-owned the first bagel shop in Hoboken. He's long since sold his share of those businesses, and now focuses his energies and time in Ridgewood.

He credits two fairly simple reasons for the steady stream of clientele at Bagelicious over the decades – a consistently good bagel and the sense of familiarity. "I have a relationship with most [customers] but I think it's just a habit for most that come here," he says.

Fiske, who's lived in Ridgewood since the early '80s and has sent all his kids through the school system, has long been known for his community involvement. He's sponsored dozens of youth sport teams, and not long ago, gave away much of his inventory to locals and charities.

"With the economy being what it is, I can't do that anymore," he says, pointing to miscellaneous bulk products that in the last few years have tripled in price. It's a problem compounded by the rent, which these days is about $6,000, he claims. 

"Profits are down but I had the busiest year ever. We had to raise [bagel] prices 40 percent."

Despite the rise in price, which Fiske says he did with regret, he's not making a profit. He refuses to raise prices to the $2 mark, he says, a figure he'd need to cushion the wallet.

"My kids are grown, I don't need to," he says stubbornly.

The owner says he takes great pains to find organic, locally grown products, though he concedes it's "damn-near impossible" and he usually has better luck in the summer.

"I try not to buy from large corporations," he says, noting that the products he does get (like Snapple) come from local vendors to help the little guy.

Fiske is, by most accounts, the unconventional business owner. Energetic – not shy to espouse his beliefs on government and society – with a wide smile, shoulder-length hair and a robust salt-and-pepper beard, Fiske says he even likes the idea of having competitors, like , on his doorstep.

They actually bring in more business for him, he chuckles.

There's also been remarkably little turnover at his small bagel boutique, celebrating its 30th anniversary next year. "I pay them well, I treat them well," he says. "Chiseling someone over $2 an hour? What's the value in that? You need to invest in people."

Fiske also questions some of the village's procedures, policies and fees he says adversely impact his business and taxpayers. 

"In the middle of the economic [downturn], the town decided to double the rate of the parking meters. I had about 40 customers leave and go to Fair Lawn. That's $1,200 a year," he says. "I know because they told me."

He also took issue with a recent fire inspection, one he says brought an "unnecessary" amount of manpower for a job he believes shouldn't require more than one building inspector and a dollop of time.

Much has undoubtedly changed over the last three decades in Ridgewood, but Fiske seems quite content here in the village, despite the new economic realities. 

Ridgewood is still bursting with great schools, lively business, parks and good people, he says.

"It's been a great place to work and live. It's a great utopia," he says. "At least for a little while longer."