Ode to the post-class gyro

There are a ton of things that I miss about school, now that I’m working full-time while I patiently wait to go to France. (I gots to get me those Euros somehow!) For example, I no longer have a reason to wake up early in the morning. Obviously, I do not count 6am spinning class as a legitimate reason. Now I get up at 9am, no matter how many alarms I set. And then I feel guilty all day long for being so lazy. Vicious cycle, my friends. Vicious cycle.

Another silly thing I really miss about school is getting chicken pitas after class with my friends at The Little Village Grill, this place across the street from JWU that has the MOST AMAZING GYROS ever. 

You may be thinking, “Um, seriously Miss Piggy? All you can think about after eating all day long in school is Greek food???” You’re right, it’s gross. But I maintain that buttercream is not an actual meal, no matter how many spatulas-ful you eat.

These gyros were the perfect antidote to six hours of cake eating and probably saved me from slipping into some sort of sugar induced coma on more than one occasion.  At least one day a week as I was aggressively squeegee-ing the floor, I’d really be counting the minutes until 1pm when I could giggle with glee and chomp into a pita, dripping tzatziki and hot sauce down my chin.

In the past month, I’ve been ordering gyros everywhere I find them, but none compare. 

Pictured above: Not the perfect gyro (but still very tasty).  This one is from The Diamond, my favorite neighborhood diner and home of the most delicious cheese and gravy fries.

Grilled chicken > grilled brown meat, no matter what the authentic Greek people say. (I say brown meat because I have no idea what it actually is… lamb? Beef? Goat?)

Sure, I could go back across town and order a gyro. Would it really be the same without my chef pants, still slightly damp from power washing the floor, or my miniature suitcase of knives by my side? Would the tzatziki taste as garlicky without the a sugary residue in my stomach from a day of tasting baked goods?

Well, probably. But it just wouldn’t feel right.