Years ago, I skimmed a magazine article listing the favorite junk foods of various celebrities. The results ranged from surprising to, in my opinion, inaccurate (pizza is not junk food, how dare you, Jake Gyllenhaal, or Emma Stone, or Daniel Day-Lewis, whoever said it). Some of the famous contributors preferred candy such as Twizzlers or Sour Patch Kids, or snacks like potato chips and pretzels. The fluffy content left me wondering what nutrient-deficient treat tops my list, and only one thing came to mind: French fries.
So, imagine my joy when I saw that Lawrenceville would soon become home to a Belgian-style frites restaurant.
Mr. Friez opened on Aug. 1 at 4213 Butler St. in a space formerly occupied by a CBD store. The scant Instagram account for the establishment — reportedly owned and run by Mohammed Azmerli, a Jordanian immigrant — touts “Fresh-cut & double-cooked” fries with “15+ house made sauces.” Hours are listed as running until 1 a.m. or 3 a.m., a rarity in Pittsburgh, the city that always sleeps.
After working up an appetite line dancing at Belvedere’s Ultra-Dive, my husband and I walked the short distance to Mr. Friez for a tuberrific Wednesday night feast.
If the pungent smell of animal fat — the required oil used for Belgian fries — doesn’t grab your attention, the whimsical storefront, cast in ’90s-era McDonald’s yellow and featuring an eyeless, mustachioed, sentient fry cone (perhaps the Mr. Friez) looming over stacks of plastic potatoes, will. Velvet ropes, a holdover, I imagine, from the shop’s then-recent grand opening, added a touch of bizarre luxury to the outdoor sidewalk tables.
The interior offers little in the way of ambiance, recalling a fast-casual pizzeria or sandwich shop with its few small tables and drink cooler. Above the counter hangs a digital menu board, half of which is dominated by the over 15 sauces boasted on the Mr. Friez Instagram.
The food offerings are, expectedly, few but varied — there are two sizes of fry cones, as well as meals featuring fish and chips, shrimp, calamari, or chicken tenders. My husband ordered the fish and chips, while I went for a fry cone paired with classic ketchup, not wanting a strongly flavored sauce to distract from the main attraction.
It’s safe to say I’m a fry purist, a Pennsylvania Dutch kid raised on county fair fries often slathered in ketchup, malt vinegar, or, sometimes, mayo, all squirted out of giant, suspended food-stand condiment udders. That said, I rarely discriminate when it comes to fry cuts — shoestring, steak, waffle, curly, even crinkle-cut are all my beautiful, greasy children, each one with its distinct personality.
Belgian, or pommes frites, unlike many of its fry brethren, need extra care when cooking to achieve the extra-crispy, flavorful quality that makes them so desirable. One Taste article describes the “basic” recipe as “double-fried in animal fat: pre-fried at a lower temperature, allowed to cool, and then quickly fried at a higher heat just before serving.”
Even though fries are, by nature, a low-maintenance side meant to complement a burger — or, in Pittsburgh’s case, every damn salad or sandwich that comes down the pike — Mr. Friez had more pressure to deliver something of higher quality, something worthy of entree status.
I was instantly delighted by the fry cone, a bright-yellow receptacle that came with an even tinier cone filled with my chosen ketchup. My husband’s order came in an equally bright yellow box, with what I can only describe as fish nuggets lying atop a bed of fries.
The fries alone lived up to the hype, their crispy outsides giving them a heartier, less oily quality compared to other varieties. Nothing galls me more than flaccid, soggy fries, and these were the opposite: a fry that could stand up to an ocean of malt vinegar.
The fried fish, however, provided the biggest surprise. The breaded nuggets, filled with tender, juicy whitefish, were the perfect size for holding and dipping. Even more miraculous, these delicious, steaming hot hunks never dampened the accompanying fries, a known downside of many styrofoam container takeout orders.
My one complaint is that Mr. Friez was not here in the early 2000s, when I was desperately seeking late-night eats after clubbing into the wee hours. Hopefully, this new spot can serve Lawrenceville explorers a quick, delicious, portable fix while also filling a hole in the local after-hours food scene.
Mr. Friez. 4213 Butler St., Lawrenceville. instagram.com/mrfriez_
This article appears in Aug 6-12, 2025.
