Let’s get a couple of things straight. If you’re going to eat hummus at Aviv, it is not pronounced “hum-MUSS.” Hummus is pronounced “hoo-moos” with an emphasis on the “h” that sounds like you are trying to dislodge a piece of half-chewed pita (pronounced “pit-tah”) from the back of your throat. Better yet, act like you’re dislodging it from your small intestine. There is no such thing as excess when you are trying to pronounce the Hebrew “chhhhh” sound.
I’m not Israeli. I’m Jewish, of the Yiddish, Old World, East Coast variety, which is basically the opposite of everything old-school Israeli. I do have Israeli relatives, including an uncle who proudly proclaims that he produced twins with my aunt because his “strong Israeli sperm” split her “weak American egg” in two. But despite my Jewishness, I have never been to Israel. I didn’t go on a Birthright trip because (1) I hate group activities, (2) chauvinism of any kind makes me uncomfortable, (3) I don’t want to be pressured, subtly or not, to mate with another Jewish person, and (4) the anticipated cognitive dissonance about the right-wing government’s treatment of Palestinians.
Despite my refusing to go on a free trip to Israel, I have gone to Aviv Hummus Bar four times since it opened in September.
