Thai coming to former sad pizza place

The former Mambo Italiano Pizzeria (AKA, the sad pizza place) at 347 E. 14th St. near First Avenue closed late last year...



... will become a thai restaurant... (not sure how long the signs have been up, to be honest...)



And a reader comment from the sad pizza post:

My friend and I used to eat at Mambo from time to time a few years ago, but we stopped for a couple of reasons. First of all, the pizza wasn't great. Probably not even good. But what really turned was off was the dough-tossing incident, which still makes us laugh when we talk about it. The last time we went there, two little boys (they were kids of someone who worked there because they kept going into the back of the pizza shop) were running around playing with the pizza dough, literally throwing it around like it was a football as we sat there wondering if they had gotten their hands on the dough that our pizza had been made with... It was funny but a little scary!

Sad pizza place on 14th Street closes

To be honest, I'm not sure exactly when Mambo Italiano Pizzeria at 347 E. 14th St. near First Avenue closed. In the last six weeks or so. I never paid much attention to it...until the crowds starting forming across the street at Artichoke. That's when the Mambo folks apparently started a little different tact. Their sidewalk sign said, "Try our Artichoke pizza," perhaps in hopes of picking off someone who didn't know which place was which. I'm not sure it worked: I swear I never saw one person in Mambo. The workers would just be in there, standing around, looking hopeful as people walked by... staring across the street at the big line at Artichoke.

In any event, I almost popped in a few times for a pity purchase. Which is really lame. I did that years ago when I lived on Clinton Street. Some new Moroccan place opened (Sago?). Never saw one person in there for the first few months. I wanted to be supportive. I went there twice. Once for something to go. They had a little bar. I ordered a bottle of beer, which came to like $6.92. Fuck me. Then I dragged Mrs. Grieve in there once for brunch or some shit. It was awful. Both times. We still make jokes about the eggs Tagine. They eventually got a little crowd. Then it closed. Then the building got torn down to make way for a condo.

Anyway, I stopped walking by Mambo. Which is why I don't know exactly when it closed.

The Pizza Pusha says goodbye to 4th Street

Photos and reporting by Stacie Joy 

Stoned Gourmet Cannabis Pizza has closed at 235 E. Fourth St. near Avenue B. 

Owner Chris Barrett — better known to many customers as "The Pizza Pusha" — opened the restaurant in the fall of 2020, serving cannabis-infused pizzas, snacks and drinks in a space with blacked-out windows, a dining room and a private smoking lounge. 

Barrett said the closure came after a combination of building issues and an impasse with the landlord.

"The rats chased us out," he told EVG yesterday morning. "The rats are scaring my customers, especially at night. Plus electrical problems. The A/C is broken, and it costs $30,000 to fix, and the landlord won't help."

Barrett said he paid $12,500 a month in rent, plus an additional $10,000 for the apartments upstairs after tenants complained about smoke. 

"I stopped paying," he said. "I said that's it." 

According to Barrett, city marshals arrived yesterday morning shortly after he finished clearing out the space.

"I cleaned the place out at 8 a.m., and the marshal came at 9," he said.

The business isn't disappearing entirely. Barrett said everything — including the staff — is relocating to a new Astoria location featuring three floors, a backyard with a retractable roof and more parking. 

"I'm so sad to go," he said. "I love this place. I love the neighborhood. This was my first restaurant. All morning, people have come by to say they are sad to see us go." 

Barrett said he had hoped to resolve the building issues but ultimately couldn't justify making additional investments in the East Village location. 

"Up until a couple of days ago, I thought we could work things out, but in the end, no deal," he said.

As for what comes next at 235 E. Fourth St.? 

"You know what I think?" Barrett said. "I think this place is going to sit empty." 

HT to the EVG reader who first alerted us to the marshal's notice.

Previously on EV Grieve: 

• A visit to Stoned Gourmet Cannabis Pizza

No. 2 to go

Back on June 1 (or 47 inches of rain ago), I mentioned that a new thai place was coming to 347 E. 14th St. (near First Avenue), the site of the former Mambo Italiano Pizzeria (AKA, the sad pizza place). Well, work continues there...



I just hope that they move the restroom — or at least invest in a bathroom door.

The Post discovers 2 Bros. Pizza on St. Mark's Place; and what eatery generates more litter?

Odd little story in the Post yesterday.

Two new $1 pizza joints on St. Mark’s Place are fueling a greasy scourge on the dense East Village street, according to fed-up locals.

Drunken patrons of twin 2 Bros. Pizza places have left a sad trail of paper plates, crusts and soda cans across sidewalks and stoops in the last year, disgusted residents said.

OK. It can be messy out front of the two 2 Bros. So why an odd story? Well, because the first 2 Bros. Pizza opened here in 2008. Not really new. The second 2 Bros. opened a few doors away in January.

And I'd argue that 16 Handles generates more litter ... at least in front of St. Mark's Church in-the-Bowery...



More on this here. ... and here ...

East Village author Maureen Johnson finds mystery close to home

Photos and interview by Stacie Joy 

Maureen Johnson has lived in the East Village since 2009, long enough to notice the neighborhood rhythms that can be easy to overlook — the smell of pizza on a cold day, bodega cats, disappearing businesses and, lately, an abundance of vintage shops. 

Those details turn up in "The Velvet Knife," the bestselling young adult author's latest Stevie Bell mystery, out today.

Parts of the book are set in the East Village and even include Boris & Horton on Avenue A — where Johnson worked on edits and adopted her dog, Dexy. 

We recently met Johnson at Boris & Horton — at the same table where she adopted Dexy — to talk about writing her own neighborhood, cults, dogs and the state of reading in the age of screens.

How does living in the East Village shape the specific sights, smells and spots that made it into "The Velvet Knife"?

I’ve only written about New York twice before, and this is, I think, my 20th book.

Usually I research a place, go around, and come in as an outsider. As an outsider, you notice the smells, the feel, the weather, the patterns. But this is writing about a place I'm very familiar with. 

And you risk not registering the things around you: the permeating smell of garbage in the summer. The fact that there will be a certain number of rats. The fact that every time you turn a corner, you'll be like, 'Oh, that business wasn't there two days ago. Oh, look, we have three new vintage shops. Oh look, that's a new coffee place. Or, that place shut down. That's something new.' Or just people, and activities. The barber shop down the street has Frenchie puppies lining the doorway. The fact that the bodegas have cats, the weed stores have cats. And they love to sleep on the warm counters. 

The smell of pizza! Especially on a cold winter's day. If I ever made a scented candle, it would smell like a New York pizzeria on a cold winter's day. It's the best smell that has ever existed. And it's intoxicating. It's magical. And it's very specific. And I think it needs to be cold for the smell to filter correctly. 

Given that you adopted Dexy at Boris & Horton, right here at this specific table, and edited the book here, how naturally did the cafe and its dogs work their way into the narrative?

I don't usually include real places, but that's not entirely true. I sometimes include real places when I visit them. But I wouldn't have thought, when I started this, that I would include real places. But I'm such a dog person that it felt natural to maybe tell people there was a place you could go to hang out with your dog. 

And especially with the times being what they are and everybody feeling kind of rough, you come here and a dog comes up to you, and they just have a way of reminding you and helping you regulate. 

Like, 'Hey, I'm here! Let's go play. Let's just be together.' And that's a very good energy in this place. When it closed down temporarily, I was so sad. And then it came back alive, and I was so happy for it. 

Have you always edited in public? 

I usually work out of my home office. I was part of a group of writers that used to meet every single day at a cafe and work. It was John Green, Emily Jenkins (who writes under the name E. Lockhart), and me.

John Green also started one of the most famous YouTube channels of all time. He brought in his camera one day. He's like, 'I'm going to start making these videos every day.' And I was thinking, 'OK. Seems dumb, but OK.' But he's a really famous guy now. He did "The Fault in Our Stars."

We would just meet every day at work. And then there was a bigger group of us. We used to meet at Dean & DeLuca. We met at wichcraft. We met kind of all over the place. But we did it for a long time. I'm one of the few still in New York permanently. Some people move to Los Angeles, but I'm still here. 

How do you tune out the people and the dogs to focus? 

I don't tune out dogs. Ever. I've never tuned out a dog in my life. Headphones, though… 

What drew you to cult dynamics and high-charisma figures as the engine to this mystery? 

I worked on the bigger arc of all these mysteries in advance. I'm very planned with them. But partly because when I was young, there were a lot of things on the news and in after-school specials about cults. The impression you got was that one was gonna get you, because there were so many. 

I think a lot of people are interested for one core reason: You want to know why. Why would people who seem like they're quote-unquote normal and fine get involved with something where you follow this little dirty dweeb who tells you that you're going to live in a hole in the desert and you have to commit a bunch of murders?

How does that happen? How do you get involved with that little thumb of a man, Keith Raniere, and then suddenly he's controlling your life and starving you to death and branding you? He claimed to be the smartest man in the world and ran business seminars out of Holiday Inns. How does that happen? 

The conditioning involved, that’s pretty standard. But cults, and I know it's a debated term, these high-control groups that have a charismatic leader, the steps are pretty well known. They always start with love, and there's a lot of rhetorical conditioning. 

And right now, if there was ever a time to think about rhetorical conditioning and conditioning a large group of people to do and believe things that make no sense… If you want to look back at Jim Jones, sitting in self-imposed exile in Guyana, in Jonestown, popping speed and ranting into a microphone all day about how everyone has to obey him, how people are betraying him, how he's paranoid, and then annihilating everything when it all goes wrong. 

If that's not something to think about right now, then I don't know what it is.

Young adult readers are constantly pulled toward screens. What do you think that "The Velvet Knife" offers them that a phone screen can't? 

I don't necessarily think that they are. Young adult readers do a lot of reading on a screen, to be fair. One of the best, the New York Public Library, uses Libby. And Libby is really good on an iPhone, or any kind of phone screen. 

I do commit the sin of reading on my phone a lot because Libby runs well on it. But it's a two-fold thing. A lot of people say, "Oh, reading's going down in some places, but certainly not in others." 

The reading community is strong for many young people who are doing screen-free time on their own, trying to detox, or are really committed to reading on their own. 

And now we have this new book bar literally on the corner over here? The first day I walked into Rabbit Books and Bar, it was full of people in the book community and writers, and there are silent reading groups that hundreds of people turn up to just to be together and read in silence. 

The reading community is strong. If anything, they're getting stronger and louder.

Also, I am one of the New York leads on Authors Against Book Bans. And we're working to get freedom-to-read legislation passed here in New York. It is actually something to be aware of. The act is sitting on Gov. Hochul's desk unsigned. She could sign it at any time, and we would have basic freedom-to-read provisions in New York, because we don't have them now. It passed the Assembly and the Senate, and it is only waiting for her signature. It's pretty non-controversial stuff, but she hasn't signed it yet. 

Anyway, I've been doing a lot of Zoom and remote interviews all week. So doing one in person near home, at my favorite place, isn't a hardship!

[Updated] For Two Boots Pizza on Avenue A, a tough slice of reality

Photos and reporting by Stacie Joy 

As the future of Two Boots on Avenue A remains uncertain, owner Phil Hartman says the beloved decades-spanning pizzeria is weighing a handful of difficult options — none of which include leaving the East Village. 

Last Friday, the landlord had two large for-lease signs affixed to the corner space — hours before Hartman was hosting a party at Two Boots to celebrate the re-release of his 1986 film, "No Picnic," at the Film Forum. 

While Hartman said he had a cordial relationship with the landlord, he was upset when he learned the for-lease banner had been put up without his knowledge. He had it removed. 

With a looming rent increase and new "for lease" signs returning soon outside 42 Avenue A at Third Street, Hartman says the choices come down to staying and absorbing annual losses, relocating to another part of the neighborhood, or returning to the original mid-block space at 37 Avenue A. 

A decision, he said, is likely in the coming weeks as he balances financial realities with deep roots on the block — and concern from staff and the community.

Hartman got emotional during a recent conversation about Two Boots' future. 

He was clear about this: "What is NOT an option: leaving the EV, our birthplace, behind." 

 

Is there an update on the lease situation?

No, really, there's no update. I was quite sad because there had been no warning [about the for-lease signs]. We had an event [last Friday night], so I asked them to take it down. And they did. And then they asked us to put it back up on Monday. But we just got a special event with Alan Cumming. Alan was doing a series with the BBC on his favorite spots in New York, and he chose Two Boots as his pizza place. We created a pizza called The Cumming for him. He just came in and shot with his crew today. So that was fun. 

I feel like [the for-lease sign] is seeking to pressure us. And I just don't know what we're going to do, so I don't have an update on our plans. They remain that we're either going to stay where we are or we're going to relocate in the East Village. Those are the only options.

Is there a timeline? When do you have to make a decision? 

I would say in the next couple of weeks. Honestly, I've been really preoccupied with my film. So I've put it off a little bit, but now the film's up and running, and it's selling out every show, which has been great. Now I've got to figure it out. I have looked at other locations. ["No Picnic" has also been extended a week at the Film Forum.]

My past is rooted in this piece of land here on Avenue A. So it's very difficult.

If you do decide that what the landlord is asking for is too much, that the margins would be too slim, and you would need to leave. Is there an exit date? 

Not yet, but I will share that when we get to that point. I'm just grappling with this very emotional situation, and I've got a dozen staff members there who are obviously very concerned. And I've had a whole community of people that are really concerned, and I'm trying to take all that into account.

I am going to put a clipboard on the counter [at Two Boots] so that people can leave their contact info, and I can keep them in the loop. 

Updated 2 p.m. The sign arrived today...

Per Hartman: "Sign is up. Ugh — so, upsetting."

Previously on EV Grieve:

• Two Boots' longtime Avenue A home listed for the first time in 30 years as lease talks continue 

• Checking in with Phil Hartman on Two Boots' future on Avenue A — and the East Village

Sad saga of Nino's Pizza 2.0 comes to an end

Yesterday morning, we noted that the new Nino's Pizza on St. Mark's Place and Avenue A had been closed (again) of late... this after extensive renovations...

And just like that ... Later yesterday, workers cleaned out the space...

...and a For Rent sign went up.

I miss the old Nino's. I liked their pizza and corny year-round Christmas decorations and fountain drinks. And it was one of my favorite spots for sitting and staring out the window, watching the East Village go by...

We didn't spot the listing online just yet...

-----

Also. After a really, really long time, workers finally removed the sidewalk bridge here...

Photos by Bobby Williams.

Updated: Stromboli Pizza worker killed cycling home from work

EVG reader Aizaz shares this sad news from Stromboli Pizza on First Avenue and St. Mark's Place. Cesar, a familiar face behind the counter, was recently involved in a fatal bicycling accident. (Here is a news report of the accident.)

"Apparently he was on a bicycle going home to Brooklyn after work and was hit by a truck and died from his injuries in the hospital after being in a coma for a few days," Aizaz says.

He leaves behind a wife and three children.

Stromboli has a donation can out on its counter to help his family pay for various expenses resulting from the tragedy.



Says Aizaz, "Cesar had a lot of charm and a very positive attitude about everything we ever chatted about."

Updated 2:30:

A resident who has lived near Stromboli since 1985 has set up a crowdfunding campaign:

Cesar was always a smiling, sunny face behind the counter at Stromboli's Pizza, where he worked for 17 years. While biking home to Brooklyn after a shift on Oct. 21, he was struck by a delivery truck and sustained multiple injuries. He lapsed into a coma at Bellevue hospital and succumbed to his injuries on Oct. 30. This fund is to help with hospital expenses and funeral costs. Cesar was 34 years old and leaves behind a wife and three small children. Stromboli's owner, Joezef, will accompany the body back to Mexico for burial.

Find the GiveForward link here.

Ben’s Deli moving on without Ben on Avenue B

Text and photos by Stacie Joy

There’s an upbeat atmosphere at Ben’s Deli on Avenue B this Thursday night. 

Local tall man Bobby is playing a DJ set from atop a stack of milk crates and plywood as curious passersby duck into the store and dance to his synth-driven set of house and disco.

Driving this festive mood: it’s being announced that Ben Gibran has sold his eponymous deli and is retiring after almost 50 years in the business.

At one point, Ben, his wife, and five sons: Mo, Ahmed, Haas, Gamal, and Ali owned six delis (plus a pizza shop) in the East Village. The last of the storefronts at 32 Avenue B between Second Street and Third Street is in contract to be sold, and Ben’s keeping it in the family, selling it to a cousin, Sammy Ksem, who is present tonight...

... along with Haas (below) behind the counter ...

... and Mo...

... and Glenn, a longtime employee...

Also on hand: the new in-store vendor Los Tacos Poca Madre, which serves housemade potato chips, a tasty fruit salad with hot sauce — not to mention traditional Mexican food.

Meanwhile, people come into the store to celebrate Ben’s long tenure as a local business owner.

As much as I am happy about Ben’s retirement, I can’t help but also be a bit sad. I’ve known Ben since I was a teenager and knowing I won’t see him and his kids and grandkids here gives me a pang of sadness. 

Ben’s Deli has been a meeting place, a shelter in the storm (literally – Ben fed the neighborhood during the dark aftermath of Superstorm Sandy in 2012), a place to grab a frosty drink, some munchies, a travel-size bottle of mouthwash/toothbrush/toothpaste combo pack, and back in the day: loosies, lotto tix, rolling papers. 

It’s had a starring role in the Netflix series “Russian Doll” and my heart. It always smells faintly of smoke; some products don’t have any business in a bodega — or do they? — and a revolving cast of characters who can explore EBT fraud, middle-of-the-night Maalox purchases, and a mix-and-match 6-pack of beer.

However, best of all is catching Ben “in the office” — his maroon Chevy Astro van parked out front. He’ll most likely be reading an expired Jetro Restaurant Supply Store brochure, chain-smoking and talking on his ancient flip phone.

While Sammy reports he has no plans to change the name, Ben’s kids won’t be working there anymore — and neither will Ben. Another familiar face, Uncle, a longtime employee, recently had a serious medical setback and hasn’t been able to get back behind the register. 

When I ask why now, Ben tells me he’s tired and old and just ready to stop working. “I can’t do it anymore, Stacie; it’s time,” he says, offering a comforting pat on my shoulder. He smiles.

An official retirement party is in the works. Stay tuned for details.

Find previous coverage here.