French foodies have Alain Ducasse. (Kind of.)
Italian-devotees have Babbo.

Sushi-lovers have Nobu.

Middle Eastern? It’s all about Moustache, the discreetly hip spot (three outposts and growing…) coveted by New Yorkers with a soft spot for pitas, hummus, and tabbouleh.

So when we heard that Moustache had opened a sister restaurant (under another name), we couldn’t help getting excited. (Pita for everyone!)

But when we started poking around, the owners pleaded, “No press!” Needless to say, we went to scope it out anyway. It was exotic, with group benches and pillows strewn about. There were people smoking from communal water pipes, illegal-looking apparatuses filled with sweet apple and strawberry tobacco.

A few caveats: This is not a BK “Your Way” kind of place. There’s no menu, just a $30 prix fixe meal that includes six courses and two drinks.

But no press? That’s no fun. So we won’t give you the name. But use your charm and wit, and we’re sure you’ll be able to figure it out.