Miznon, the night after: joy, support and good Israeli food

“Let’s go to Miznon!”

On Saturday, after that Friday night on Shabbat when Israeli restaurant Miznon was attacked – the same night the beautiful East Melbourne Shule was targeted – those words felt like a rally cry.

After so much violence, so much noise, that simple invitation was a kind of defiance. A way to say: We are still here. We show up. We eat together.

And people did. Miznon was full by early evening. There were big tables of Jewish families and friends, yes — but also so many others.

Diners of every background, joyfully eating the cauliflower and playing with the tomatoes that, just the night before, had been thrown as weapons. The night before, when a group of about 20 people, some wearing the Palestinian keffiyeh, upended tables, smashed glasses and a window, and terrified customers in Melbourne's Hardware Lane.

But tonight, the restaurant was alive with the hum of many languages, the clatter of plates and the sound of laughter that felt almost like healing.

As someone whose identity is stitched together from different cultures — Jewish, biracial, migrant — I felt the power of this moment deeply. I’ve lived in those tensions. I’ve seen how easy it is to fracture, to turn against one another. And yet here we were, in a restaurant known for its messy abundance, remaking the broken pieces into something nourishing.

A man tapped me on the shoulder.

“I’m not Jewish,” he said, “but we’re here to support Miznon – and the whole Jewish community!” He stretched his arms wide and the room broke into spontaneous applause.

His words took me by surprise. So often, we go unseen – or worse, misread. But in that moment, it felt good to be supported. There was no performance, no politics – just a quiet, generous act of humanness. And in a weekend, week, month, years, that had felt heavy and isolating, that simple gesture meant everything.

The manager’s partner came by our table and told us about the Lebanese brothers from the restaurant across Hardware Lane — how they stood between the attackers and Miznon staff, how they were hit with food meant to intimidate. “They didn’t have to do that,” she said. “But they did.”

She spoke of how the Miznon staff cared for one another and their diners, even in chaos.

And with that, the manager himself — buoyed by the love in the room — turned up the Israeli music. We danced.

This is the Australia I believe in.

The one where our multiculturalism is not performative, but protective. Where food and culture bring us closer together.

Where we turn up for each other — not despite our differences, but because of them.

It’s easy to focus on the cracks. But sometimes, if you look closely, you'll see the light coming through.