My friend Leah tells me I’m a fake Jew. And I don’t disagree. She also tells me not to start sentences with “and” or “but.” But, while I’m not very traditional, I can’t read Hebrew, I’m not going to have a Bar Mitzvah and I play dreidel and demolish black and white cookies, which are apparently both fake engagements in the faith in their own right, it doesn’t faze me because I’m a Bagel and Lox Jew. Which, as I hope these essays have showcased through the exploration of how bagels have shaped the lives of everyone, not just those of the faith, the enjoyment of a bagel and lox, either on the couch in your underwear, on the go in your athleisure or with a side of that forever iconic Manhattan chutzpah, is, in fact, its own kind of Judaism.