I'm Still Sweating Garlic

Do you know what gyros is? Do you know how to pronounce it? Have you ever had gyros (or shwarma for that matter)? If you haven't then you need to get into your car or on your bike or saddle your camel and go to find some. It is the food of the gods and that is no lie. I would never lie to you, you know that.

So, gyros, the food of the gods. I can't remember the first time that I had gyros, I just know that I have been eating it for a LONG time. And I eat it whenever I can. But the place that I have to absolutely, positively visit at least once a year is a little place in Crown Point, Indiana called Papa's Deli. Oh I just get shivers thinking about it and now that I have made the annual pilgrimage I am already trying to figure out when I can go back.

You wouldn't think that a small town in Indiana, known more for the fact that John Dillinger broke out of it's jail, would have a Greek deli that serves stellar gyros but it does. Papa's Deli sits at the corner of Joliet and Main, just a little unassuming place.

This is what you see after you walk in, place your order and find a table to sit at. Rather unassuming you are thinking and you would be right. But the setting isn't why we were there, salivating profusely.

I must have my gyros with this particular drink. It is all about the whole celebratory atmosphere of the dining experience. I only get to Papa's maybe twice a year and doggone it I am going to have what I want to drink.

And somewhere along the way we added this particular item to the mix. I am a recent convert to BBQ potato chips but I am willing to say that I was SOOOOOOO wrong about these things. They are divine.

The anticipation builds.....and builds. You can smell the gyros, you can hear it sizzling, you can taste it. And then.....

It arrives at your table in it's farmiliar red plastic basket. A lovely, warm flatbread covered with piping hot gyros, tziki sauce, lettuce, tomato and sliced onions. With several pepperoncini peppers on the side. Oh sweet mystery of life there you are. Speak to me you garlicky mass of goodness (and after I am done it speaks to me again and again and again).

I will be disciplined. I will be measured. I will eat slowly and savor the experience and the yummy food.

Oh wait, you actually believed all of that stuff I just wrote about being all measured and disciplined when eating my gyros! You people are really gullible. Wolves falling on a flock of hapless sheep show more restraint that I did when eating that basket full of goodness. It was gone in the blink of an eye. And I was VERY full afterwards. And I had breath that could melt steel..............
But I was happy.