posted by on Middle Eastern, Pizza, Vegging Out, West Village


I love pizza in all iterations from my old corner joint (East Village Pizza) and the slightly more upscale (Arturo’s or Patsy’s) to D.O.C. style (L’Asso) and the lavash version I made at home. But I had yet to try the Middle Eastern version, cutely terms “pitzas.” So off I went with my friend, Deep, to Moustache in the West Village. (Funnily enough, I used to live one block from from their East side location, but isn’t that what always happens? Whenever you live close to something, you think, “Oh, I can go anytime.” And then you never go.)

It sits on a quiet segment of Bedford, which happens to be one of my favorite streets in Manhattan. How can you have a favorite street, you ask? Well, it looks just like a a movie set that mimimcs New York. Is it cliche? Maybe. But it’s still a nice reminder of how a gritty city can be just as charming.

Feeling veg? Falafel sandwich; eggplant moussaka; lentil soup; green pitza with scallions, leeks and herbs; tomato and cheese pitza

Feeling non-veg? Merguez (spicy lamb sausage) sandwich; chicken kebab plate; seafood pitza with shrimp and scallops

We skipped the “specialties” menu of traditional Middle Eastern fare (i.e. kebabs and falafels) and went for their famous pitzas:

{Deep’s Lahambajin Pitza: ground lamb, onion, tomato, parsley and spices}

{My Moustache Pitza: roasted red bell pepper, tomato, onion, parsley and chili with fresh mozzarella}

We both finished out entire personal pies, so clearly we were satisfied customers. His had more of a Middle Eastern flavor, but don’t discount my Moustache pitza just because it has mozzarella. The herbs and chillies gave the pizza a fresh-from-the-garden taste that you’d never find at regular pizza shops. It’s also much lighter and more gourmet than your average pie.

On top of that, the service was lovely. Our waiter asked if we’d be so kind as to switch tables to accommodate a larger group. That larger group just so happened to include some friends of mine, but we were happy to move anyway. And for that, he gave us this:


Before it came to our table, I told Deep he could have all of it. I had sort of fallen out of love with baklava. It’s usually too sweet and soggy from the syrup. But when our waiter set it down on our table, I took one bite — to try, natch — and took back what I said. It was flaky, not overly sweet and had just the right crunch. Clearly, I ate my share.

90 Bedford St. (between Grove and Barrow)
1 to Christopher St.


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