I spell Pita Grill d-i-s-a-p-p-o-i-n-t-m-e-n-t. No matter how many times I try to like this place, I always end up regretting it. The chicken is dry and minuscule. The pita, ironically, is straight out of the Thomas’ bakery, and the supplied carrot tahini is just plain weird. The feeling of half-assing is in the air and the taste of sorrow is in the pita. You’d think with all this lameness going on that at least the grub would be cheap, but no! It’s like seven bucks for one flimsy bread pocket. The sad part is, I’ll be walking by one day, amnesia will set in, and I’ll be choking down one of their chicken things before I remember what a loser I am for ignoring my best judgment for the 47th time that month. [MF]
790 9th Ave.
212/765-1100
pitagrill.com
