We all love to categorize new restaurants. It helps us fit them into tidy boxes. Mozy’s, a new spot in Liberty Village, has spent its first month trying to resist that impulse.
Yes, it serves excellent charcoal chicken. But it’s not a kebab shop. The grills are imported from Portugal, but it’s not Portuguese-style chicken. The menu includes Australian-style chicken salt fries, plus labneh and eggplant dips on the side. Still, it’s not a kebab shop.
For owner and chef Barbode Soudi, it’s simply a chicken shop. “We’re charcoal first,” he says. “Not culture first.”
The Liberty Village restaurant was built around live-fire cooking, right down to the infrastructure. “I’m building an eleven-foot hood because of chicken,” Soudi explains. “If it was kebabs, it would be four feet. I would spend way less money.”
Soudi — who previously worked at Alo and spent most of his career in fine dining — is approaching even this fast-casual food with the same technical intensity and passion. “Charcoal has become a way of cooking that a lot of restaurants shy away from,” he says of the operational demands, ventilation requirements, and fuel costs. Despite all that, Mozy’s is leaning in.
“I didn’t expect people coming back week after week so soon. I’ve never felt more like I’m feeding people than I do now.”Barbode Soudi
At Mozy’s, the chicken is intentionally straightforward: lightly seasoned and cooked fresh over live fire, while the flavour builds through sauces and sides. My order — a quarter chicken with smoked labneh, peppers, sumac onions, and bread — balanced richness, brightness, and the char in a way that was simple but considered. The eggplant dip, layered with roasted onion and chilli crisp, was deep and savoury. And the chicken salt fries — inspired by the Australian takeaway staple — complemented the chicken with a salty, tangy, sumac-y crunch. I’d go back just for the fresh bread.
For someone with Soudi’s fine-dining background, opening a chicken shop might seem like an unexpected departure. He always planned to build a high-end restaurant, but years of difficult negotiations and financing realities shifted his perspective. Operating his own smaller, focused space became more appealing than chasing a large, investment-heavy fine-dining project.
The emotional centre of Mozy’s is personal. Soudi, who is Iranian, grew up cooking over charcoal at family barbecues, and those memories helped shape the restaurant’s direction. Subtle details throughout the branding nod to his late father, grounding the space in something deeply personal. Even the yellow flower on the back of the staff T-shirts is drawn from the decorative motif on the santoor (a traditional Persian string instrument) his father used to play.
“People say it’s Iranian-inspired because I’m Iranian. But there’s nothing Iranian about this restaurant,” he says. The menu draws from multiple influences: smoked labneh, Latin-inspired sauces, Middle Eastern spices, Australian chicken salt — but Soudi doesn’t frame the restaurant around any single culinary identity.
That philosophy, he says, feels like the melting pot of Toronto. And the neighbourhood seems to be responding quickly. Mozy’s opened in January, and Soudi says one of the biggest surprises has been how fast regulars have appeared.
“I didn’t expect people coming back week after week so soon,” he says. “I’ve never felt more like I’m feeding people than I do now.”
Fine dining, he explains, is about creating moments. A charcoal chicken shop can become part of daily life. Judging by the steady flow of takeout bags and repeat customers, Mozy’s is settling comfortably into that role.
FEATURE PHOTO BY EXCEPTIONAL FILMS.
