Pita Bistro

Maybe I should just recruit the guys at Pita Bistro to help me out. The cafe has a very lovely ladies’ room, but more important, the fellows working here are a whole lot nicer than my renovating rogue. At one point, after I place a large order, a guy I think is the owner tells me he loves me. Not once does anyone suggest I might be a few pepperonis short of a pizza.

Then again, to put them on plumbing duty would take them off what they do so wonderfully well: prepare excellent, remarkably fast, casual Mediterranean food. And again, I imagine the owner’s love for me is fleeting. This months-old downtown bistro is quite busy.

Me, I’m just happy to have time away from my “weekend” project and sink my teeth into slices of first-rate pizza. I love the crust — either hand-pulled thin dough or chewy, pita-like flatbread, depending on the pie — as well as the toppings, all absolutely fresh and layered in a superb balance of ingredients. The personal-size pies are gourmet-quality, from the spicy pepperoni with marinara and mozzarella, to the ambitious country Greek, a marriage of mild and sharp, with salty ricotta, crisp red onion, fresh tomato, green pepper and tangy Kalamata olives.

Only the black-and-white pizza reminds me of what’s waiting at home — the ivory landscape of mozzarella, ricotta and Parmesan looks too much like spackle, and with only pitted Kalamata olives to break up the monotone of cheese, it’s kind of dull. Pita Bistro’s chickpea soup, meanwhile, should be eaten only in the dark — it’s ugly but great, a tart, self-confident purée that comes alive when sprinkled with black pepper.

I’m scarfing a killer kefta kebab alongside the soup, savoring the juicy patty of ground beef and lamb that sparkles with Middle Eastern herbs and spices in a pita, all zipped up with dynamite, homemade jalapeño oil. But I’m also admiring the Bistro’s decor — so simple, with sponge-painted walls and faux knockouts of exposed stone. I’ve got a sledgehammer. A few swipes and I could “expose” my bathroom’s exterior block wall. Hmm.

Better to use my energy for good, so I dig into another bite of terrific shawarma, the sliced chicken, turkey, lamb or beef flowering with a gutsy marinade, highly seasoned and charbroiled over a vertical grill, then piled on soft, veggie-studded rice pilaf, lemony hummus and a chopped salad of tomato-cucumber-bell pepper in vinaigrette. Or more chicken Milanese, a savory pita of breaded chicken cutlet topped with tomato, basil salad, aged balsamic vinaigrette and chunks of fresh mozzarella. This is expert cooking.

Which reminds me: My construction companion is insisting that I remodel my kitchen next. Bring on buckets of Smart Water, and give me the intelligence to say no.