THIS is not a commercial. Let’s get that out of the way right off the bat. OK, here goes.
A pal of mine was always on my case to visit a “phenomenal” gyros place in Nicosia.
“Try it, it’s the best darn gyros around. You’ll be licking your lips,” he’d tell me. Not that I doubted him, but for some reason or other – probably laziness – I never got around to it.
Loosely translated as d?ner kebab (Turkish) or shawarma (Arabic), gyros is meat roasted on a vertical rotisserie. It may refer to the pita sandwich it is often served in, with various salads and sauces. The most common fillings are tomato, French fries, onions, and tzatziki or tahini sauce.
Now the owner of the aforementioned establishment goes by the name of Mr Chrysanthos, who among some patrons has earned an unsettling reputation. It was said that he had a permanent scowl etched on his face, shouting and barking orders on the staff, never making eye contact with whoever walks in there, a mad-as-hell, ticking time bomb who’s always in a bad mood.
Fast forward. The other day I was driving home from work, absolutely famished. “To hell with it, let’s take a chance,” I said to myself, so I took a little detour, which got me stuck for another 15 minutes in Nicosia’s hellish traffic.
Boy, was it worth it.
It’s a modest takeaway joint, located on Demou Herodotou Street. If you’re heading out from downtown towards Makedonitissa, take a right turn at the Harley Davidson traffic lights and then it’s about 200 meters down the road, left side.
Sure enough, Mr Chrysanthos was busy on the job. A grey-haired sinewy man in his 60s, he took my order, which consisted of a pita with tzatziki and salad.
When I did muster the courage to initiate conversation, I found he was more than accommodating.
His place was initially located next to the old GSP football stadium, near the Athineon cinema that is no more, and Komis photographer. Landmarks of the old Nicosia, which nowadays is changing faster than you can blink.
Mr Chrysanthos’ tale easily qualifies as a piece of history. A refugee from the Kyrenia district, he left his home village in the wake of the 1974 war to settle in the capital.
Shortly later, he got into the gyros business. That was more than 30 years ago.
“Yes, it’s probably true that I’m the oldest place in town,” he says, cracking a smile.
“Not to mention the best,” interjects his wife.
The secret of his success? Naturally, Mr Chrysanthos wouldn’t reveal the tricks of the trade, though he did say his special recipe lay in the spices. Fair enough.
“These days, you find a gyros shop just about on every street corner. I’m not complaining. I’ve made a brand name for myself, and that’s what it’s all about.”
As he speaks, he sharpens his long knife with gusto, and proceeds to cut slices off the turning beef.
Meanwhile, I am salivating.
“Now, pay attention,” he says. “Watch how the meat just peels off in little pieces. No big chunks, like in other places. And you know why? Because there’s no fat in there. It’s all beef. What you see is what you get.”
“All the ingredients we use are handpicked. Fresh vegetables only. The meat’s top quality, from the best places. And only Cypriot meat, mind you.”
But why was he forced to relocate, I insist.
“They told us we had to go because the block around the GSP was going to be remodelled to build the new parliament building there. So much for that. The parliament is now next to the old hospital. It seems some people in this country can get away with anything.
“In the meantime, for two years we were running around like crazy looking for another place to set up shop. We must have tried a dozen different locations. The owners would ask for sums like £100,000 just for the goodwill. Finally, I gave up trying to own and settled for this shop, which I rent.”
Depending on how hungry you are, you can order from Mr Chrysanthos a standard £2 pitta or a “reinforced one” – with everything, plus extra meat – for £3.
When I ask whether he sometimes eats gyros or if he’s put off by the fact he has to prepare and smell it daily, he hits me with this shocker:
“Actually, I don’t eat meat. Maybe once or twice a year, on special occasions.”
OK. The number 1 gyros fellow in Nicosia is a vegetarian, who by the way faithfully observes Lent, fasting for the whole 40 days. Compliments, sir.
So how was the food, I hear you ask. Well, suffice to say I’ll be going back again and again. Once inside my car, the aroma from the pitta was irresistible. So I tore open the wrapping and attacked, one hand on the steering wheel, Cypriot style. Savouring every tasty morsel of that tender beef. The gyros also passes the ultimate test: leaving a nice flavour in your mouth for hours later. Throw in a (regular) Coke, and you’re one happy bunny. Yes, this is gourmet fast food.
