Shun The Bun, Spanakopita To Go ...
He liked it when I wrote about food.
I didn't eat breakfast. And I didn't eat lunch. But in my surfing, I saw recipes for Greek nachos – inspired! – and an orzo salad with Kalamata olives and feta, so my brain was thinking Greek the whole way home.
I was famished. Where's a leg of lamb to gnaw on when you need one?
There's a joint that makes a good gyros, but joint is not the proper name. It's a grocery that also serves food. So I steered the car that way. Gyros. And baklava. Because, well, it's baklava.
The woman behind the counter called me "Sweetie": "What can I get you, sweetie?"
Gyros to go, I told her.
She didn't have her gyros spinning. Something about her electricity being bad. The power was on. But whatever. Gyros was out.
But she pointed at her specials list, and my eyes fell on cevaps, which are not Greek but are gyros-like in flavor. I ordered some to go.
"They take about 10 minutes," she said, as if to ask if that was OK.
Yep, that was OK.
I sat down to wait and looked at the specials again and thought I should have gone for souvlaki.
Ah, well. Another time.
While I was waiting, she waited on other customers. She called them "Sweetie," too. They were eyeing the cheese pies on the top of the deli case.
Sweetie Lady told them that she had a tray of spinach pies just about to come out of the oven. Or did she say cheese? I was in a bit of a daze.
They paid for their order and were on their way. And my order was ready, so I stepped up to pay.
"What did you just take out of the oven?" I asked.
"Spinach pies," she said, knowingly. When it comes to spanakopita, I'm an easy mark.
"I need one of those, please. And some baklava."
She wrapped my pie in paper and taped it shut. Tucked it into my to-go bag along with a container of baklava. "For a king ..." she said, of my impending meal.
I handed her the money. "This is breakfast, lunch, and dinner," I said.
She smiled. "I've had those days."
In the car, I unwrapped my happy paper bundle enough to take a bite.
Not-just-because-I-was-starving heaven but perfectly crispy-golden-phyllo-giving-way-to-spinach-and-cheese heaven.
Thankfully, I arrived at a stoplight. I pulled back more paper so I could continue to nosh.
I hit a hunk of melty feta.
"I am so happy," I said to myself, which was good, as it would have been rude to talk with my mouth full with someone else in the car.
The whole thing was gone before I got home. And it was fantastic. I thought about going back for another.
But instead, I tucked into my cevaps and rice and cucumber-tomato-and-onion salad. Well, "tucked" sounds somewhat reserved. I was not reserved. But hey, I used a fork.
Finished, I thought I should probably wait on the baklava. Have it later, when I could enjoy it more.
That idea lasted all of 10 seconds. Oh, it was good. Different than I've had from there before. This one was heavier on the cinnamon. But it was good, as if any combination of phyllo and walnuts and honey could be otherwise?
So now I am sated. Until Sunday, I'd wager.
But next time, gyros for sure.