In most parts of the world, the moment when someone asks you for directions is the moment when you you know you’ve assimilated.

In New York, particularly in Brooklyn, it’s when someone stops you in the street and asks, ‘Are You Jewish?’ This week is Passover, or Pesach. My first clue to that was when I was working on the checkout in the Coop, and scanned a pack of kosher Philadelphia Cream Cheese specially made for the holiday.

This is also the season when New Yorkers, Jewish and otherwise, go on their annual hunt for kosher Coke hunts. Normally it’s made with that lovely invention, high fructose corn syrup, but right now, you can buy it made the old fashioned way, with honest to goodness sugar. It’s the real thing. Apparently.

Anyway, so right now, as well as buying up kosher Coke and cream cheese, Brooklyn’s Jewish population is also looking for lapsed Jews. They stop you in the street to see if they can talk you back into the fold, and in some circles, they’ll even have you if you’re not properly Jewish, eg if your mother isn’t, but your father is, or your father’s mother. According to that, if you go back far enough, they can count me in, and my boyfriend, and quite a lot of other people I know.

By which count, we really must be New Yorkers now. Now all I need is a therapist.

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