I am a Mutt

I have always wanted to be from some type of nationality.  Let me explain--When I tell people what my last name is and they don't know me, they begin to ask me all these questions about my heritage and what not.  I of course am not Serbian.  I am a compilation of just about every boring nation there is.  I am mostly English mixed with a bit of every other neutral nation you can imagine.  The mutt of all mutts.  I have always envisioned myself as lets say Italian.  You see I LOVE Italian food-eating and cooking it-I can be a bit boisterous, I love naps in the middle of the day, and I am on my way to having a grandma stache if it weren't for the wax.  Plus I have that dark hair light skin complexion that a lot of Italians have.  I enjoy mob movies and I am always wanting to burst out with a Mama Mia!  although I hold back constantly-because of course I am no where close to Italian.

I have thought about this for quite sometime.  Well not really....mostly when I am at an Italian restaurant.  Don't get me wrong....I love my heritage and what not, I've always just wanted to feel like I belonged to some exclusive club that really doesn't exist. Being married into a Serbian family I have gotten a taste of what this club is like but how many Serbian restaurants do you see?  That's right NONE.  Plus if I rattled off some Serbian phrase you might just kick me in the neck.  In fact, I might kick me in the neck because I don't know how to speak Serbian.  Now if I yelled 'Mama Mia!' you would get it but if I rattled off "Gooby Sucka Chutdapa??"  See what I mean (really that phrase means 'face like a sock')  Plus I am not really Serbian...remember from the above paragraph?

Have you ever had a Gyro (pronounced Yeeroo)?  I have had my fair share of this wonderful food-from fairs to upscale Greek restaurants, no gyro is safe from me.  It is the mother flippin.  Take a spicy lamb/beef mixture meat, put it on a warm pita, smother it in tomatoes, feta, and tzastiki sauce (a cucumber yogurt mixture), and stuff your face until you can't breath.  The gyro does come with onions but I say no to the veggie that can make you cry. 

I have a new neighbor who's name is Diamondes and that is right folks, he is a Greek.  I was out in the pool one day trying to see if I could swim with my healing busted leg/foot when this gem showed up.  He doesn't speaky the english too well so he decided to practice on me.  I think he understood that I didn't understand him when I didn't answer his questions.  The thing about this Greek is that he is A) Euro and you know what that means.  B) Banana hammock.  SICK.  Constant speedo action.  He lives right by the pool which happens to be by my morning Jaitz walk so EVERY morning I get to witness Diamondes in his full glory watering his roses.  He doesn't even have to be swimming/sun bathing to warrant the speedo.  No one is safe.  That is besides the point.  The point is I've been getting all these Greek vibes lately.  The gyro is taunting me from inside out, the new Greek neighbor, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding was on ABCFamily for a week straight.  I think I might be turning Greek instead of my original Italian.

So upon finding my new Greek adopted heritage I have been on a mission to find the best tasting gyro in town.  Now I had found the BEST one I have ever had in Boise--all you back in B-town, save up your allowance and head to Casba on 8th and Idaho.  It is a bit pricy but I have never had a gyro like that in my life.  If you don't have an allowance go to Mazzeh on 18th and State. A bit cheaper but still  SO GOOD!  I did find one of the best and beefiest gyros here in the AZ at a place called Codel.  I decided that all I wanted was one of these delicious morsels so Zac and I headed over to get one.  TRAGIC NEWS!!! The dang place closed!  SONOFAB.  As you can tell I have been on a mission.  I tried to talk to Diamondes to see if he had any suggestions and I couldn't understand him and he started talking about the weather so I slowly backed away from him with my hands out in case he charged.

I decided it was time to go out and try places and figure this out....I mean my heritage was counting on me and all.  Since I am Greek now.  I have been to a couple places and they have been okay but nothing to write home about.  On Friday, Zac had 'drinks' with his work which consists of him pounding ice water and eating sliders.  I decided it was a good night to try and find a divine gyro.  I looked up a bunch of places on the internet and I seriously researched them.  For real.  I found what I thought was the best and also the closest to me (remember I live in a city that is 100 miles across) and I headed out with Jaitz by my side.  As I pull up I am already slamming my fist on the steering wheel; the dang place has all the lights off and chairs on the table.  Written on a piece of lined paper and taped the door says "Closed Memorial Day Weekend."  Who closes a place of business for 3 days??  I am livid...all I want is a freaking gyro please!!  I remember a few places up north that I researched and I decided to go and play discovering Arizona: Gyro Style.  I headed to where I thought a place would be and was let down.  I keep driving around aimlessly until I remember that I heard about a place real far north from one of my buddies and I said "screw it....lets do this!"  So I popped it into D, pushed my pretend nitro button, forgot Jaitz was in the car and sent him flying across the back seat, and peeled out to my next destination.  I wanted the Greek gods to know I was pissed.  And they knew it.  I proceed to drive WAY to far for any food (other than Chicago Connection pizza....I would walk 500 miles for that) and finally made it to Daphne's Greek Restaurant.  I knew the second I walked in this was going to be a mediocre place (sorry Gina).  It was pretty pricy for a weak sized gyro.  Don't get me wrong the thing was delicious but not the type of gyro that explodes because they've packed it so tight the only direction the meat can go is up--the kind that defies gravity.  So I ate my dinner at an empty parking lot with my pooch, drank my frosty beverage and headed home to finish the night with a lame red box movie (Doubt totally sucks just to let the three of you who are reading this know).

I still did not get my gyro fix.  I can't stop the maddness!!!  On Saturday, Zac and I decided to hit up a matinee. I knew there was a gyro place by the theaters so I made the suggestion that we should eat there for lunch.  We stopped at Walgreens to return the stupe movie and so I could buy some reduced priced treats for the movie, and headed down to Tempe.  I definitely had more faith in this Greek stop.  Upon entering the gyro shop I felt as if I were home.  The walls were painted in that blue Greek paint that screams smurf turf.  It was not the decor that made me feel as though I were home but the spiket of lamb meat the size of Andre the Giant's thigh that stared me in the face as I was prepared to order.  Plus I could tell the chef was one of my long lost relatives....adopted of course.  We order our gyros and wait with anticipation. Now I have found that the gyro can sometimes be made or broken with one ingredient.  The tzastiki sauce.  We proceed to get our gyros that are so big and so meaty that it looks like I have a large popcorn but instead of popcorn I have meat, and instead of a popcorn container, I have a pita somewhere under all that meat.  It is so freaking big that I can't fold my pita so I proceed to eat it like a watermelon or corn on the cob.  The most brilliant thing about this gyro was that the tzastiski sauce came out in it's own container like some sort of condiment.  This means I get to put as much as I want on this thing.  I could just drink this stuff so I am PUMPED.  I proceed to douse my gyro with this little bottle of heaven and then I ate as fast as I could.  I did this for two reasons. One, we were in a hurry to make the movie, and two I have to trick my mind into thinking I'm not full.  The faster I eat the less time my stomach has to respond.  Let's just say I was paining for the REST of the afternoon.  But man it hurt so good.

The bad thing-during the movie I was constantly burping and not realizing it.  Zac was getting SO angry at me because I guess they stunk to high heck.  He was so riled up that he even compared these uncontrollable burps to Jaitz farts.  A little below the belt.  Besides they couldn't have been as bad as Kristie's broccoli burps.  Oh I wanted to punch her every time she ate broccoli.  I felt sick after that one but man I will do it again....just not for a while.  I have enjoyed being Greek and I have learned a lot.  About gyros, not much else.  I think I am going to go back to just being an adopted Serbian even though I can't stand Sarma.  Why is it always about food with me?