For obvious reasons, which are three, nine and 11 years old, we don’t eat out a lot. When it happens, it is generally a hurried and exciting affair and typically ends with us paying an enormous tip to placate wait- and bus-staff.
The other night we found ourselves with few groceries and a mid-evening social engagement, so we decided to take the kiddies out to eat. For reasons known only to our subconscious and perhaps the pantheon of Greek gods, we choose Grecian Delight. As Michael’s friend used to say, I guess we were “hankering for a hunk of grey meat rotating on a spit.”
For those unfamiliar with Grecian Delight, it is a typical “Greek” restaurant near a university and strip of bars/nightclubs featuring gyros, chicken sandwiches and the like. The busiest hours are between Midnight and 3:00 AM.
Neither my husband nor I had been to such a place in a real long while, so I guess we thought this would be “fun” and “nostalgic.”
It was definitely nostalgic. First off, Grecian Delight must be one of the last remaining restaurants in the city where you can smoke, and more importantly, where there does not appear to be any designated non-smoking section. Seriously. Ashtrays, with ashes and butts, where on every other table throughout the restaurant. Awwww, how 1990.
The kids were a little freaked.
The menu was about as I remembered, it, with the addition of some true Greek classics like jalapeno poppers and chocolate chip cheesecake.
A man with many gold chains and a reluctance to button his shirt took our order.
Number one son ordered a hamburger; number deux ordered a fish sandwich. Third child went for that famous Grecian specialty, French fries and pita bread. Mr. Healthy got the grilled chicken pita (sans onion, but they put the onion on anyway).
Not me. If I was at this smoky, smelly place, I was getting a gyro, dammit (sans onion).
(Yes, our 13-year marriage is built on a solid foundation of onion hatred. What of it?)
Wow. Gyros are not good. I realize I was probably shit-faced the last time I ate one, but really, is there any level of drunkenness that could make a gyro taste good?
I tried to finish it -- really, I did. In the end I just couldn’t do it and surrendered it over to number one son, who thought it was delicious.