Gyros is pronounced YEE-ROWS, except when you’re ordering, then it’s YEE-ROW. It’s the declension, stupid. Next time you’re in a tavern, don’t say ‘I’d like a YEE-ROWS’ – say: ‘I’d like YEE-ROW’. Of course it will make matters much easier if you can just say the lot in Greek. But whatever the lingua, you’ll get a bowl of deliciously crispened up pork or chicken fragrant with tomato marinade; and they will think the better of you as you’ve made an effort to find out a bit about the Greek grammar.
Gyros is my favourite Greek food. Stuff your spinakopitas, take away the souvlaki, dolmades – begone. I’ll have gyros always and always, pork rather than chicken as it will get scorched nicely without being burnt to oblivion; pork being the sturdier meat. Only wimps and non-Greeks go for the chicken gyros. I’ll take pork every time – scorch it, almost burn it and then double-blast the already meltingly tender morsels of pig – and the fat and the rind will be the best bits.
You’d think it was another, after kebab, street dish impossible to replicate at home but no – perfectly doable in the oven; just watch it because it’s a blink of an eye between crisp and burnt. Tzatziki is of course obligatory with it and a homemade pita bread won’t go amiss.
The gyros marinade recipe comes from NY Times Cooking.