Is it an Italian pizza place, or is it a Mediterranean falafel joint? We suppose it’s both–but it’s kind of like creating a croissant/paella restaurant just because France and Spain are on the same continent and in close proximity. Well, we figured, for some reason, that we’d rather eat Middle Eastern stuff at a pizza place than pizza at a Middle Eastern place. We know the logic is fuzzy, but we’ve done enough research on crappy restaurants to know how this shit works. The place is dirty and poorly lit like a pizza place, but has all the funny frying smells of a falafel stand. The hummus and falafel are pretty run-of-the-mill, and paired with the straight-from-the-bag pita, the overall taste sensation is somewhat generic, but not overly unpleasant. A kick in the pants it is not, so if you can stomach the inevitable heartburn that accompanies fried chickpeas, drop by every other month or so and find out why this bizarro place has a damn French name. [MF]
739 8th Ave.