Trieste, Friday the 13th July 2018

Whenever I go to Trieste, I always get the gyro. They got these good lookin’ chicken kebabs, though. Always curious to try them. I’ve always wanted to, there’s nothing stopping me, so, today, the Sandwich Bully steps aside for…
KEBAB FUCKER!
Not really that big a deal, I guess. Anyway, I snapped that pic because I knew for sure that that beautiful kebab salad was going to get all fucked up in my bag so I better snap a pic before bagging it and then I thought, “The office is only three blocks from here, I can ride one handed.” So I got to look at it relatively preserved when I ate it, so the cook’s work was not in vain and I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned before that I love watching this guy work. This guy puts all those celebri-chefs to shame, the way he sliced the tomato and red bell and cucumber and onion. Then he squeezed a whole lemon, one-handed, over the platter and he has those special pipes on the ends of his olive oil and vinegar bottles and he splashed it with those and then he took this fucking metal canister and sprinkled some herbs on it… I want to intern under this guy, goddamn.
Anyway, I have to take a “strengths assessment” for these awful business-speak cunts I work for so I’m going to keep this short.
The chicken was good despite being cold (I was expecting a hot kebab but OK), the veggies were fresh, the feta was creamy and sour, the toum was bold and had a lot of bite but the rice? I’m not really a rice guy. I’m not going to sit there and eat rice and there wasn’t anything about this rice that was going to change my mind and then, oh, shit, the pita was hard as a brick. I don’t know how they messed that up but it was a total letdown. I mean it really bummed me out. I mean, I got over it, yeah. I put the toum on my (cold) chicken, on my veggies… But hard pita, man.
Anyway, I’m going to stick to the gyro from here on out as it’s just easier to pop in my bag and I like tzatziki more than toum. This experience was only so-so. Wasn’t bad but nothing exciting or revelatory. I got to try some kebabs.
Oh, and the guy at the register took my hand in one of his and used the other to press a kreatopita into my hand and he smiled, “It’s a meat pie!” It sort of reminded me of that time my Uncle Butch turned me on to scotch with some Glenlivet 12 when I was twenty three or four for some reason.
What? Yeah, I have an Uncle Butch. I tell you a hundred fucking things about me and you don’t bat an eye until I tell you I have an Uncle Butch? He’s my uncle. His name is Butch. Uncle Butch.