Easy Chicken Gyros {New and Improved}

Labor Day weekend. The last official gasp of summer, though in Tampa summer does not gasp so much as linger rudely, like a guest who ignores all hints that the party is over. We had a cookout — just the three of us, Alexander and Sophia and me, because Mama was at the bakery and Dimitri was at a friend's and sometimes a small family gathering is exactly the right size. I grilled souvlaki and made a Greek salad and we ate on the back porch while the sun went down and the neighborhood smelled like a hundred different grills all going at once.

Sophia asked me about Baba. Not the big questions — she knows the big answers, the sponge diving, the bakery, the heart attack — but the small ones. What did he eat for breakfast. What was his favorite song. Did he laugh. She is fourteen and she is trying to build a portrait of her grandfather from the fragments I carry, and I gave her what I could: he ate bread and honey every morning, he hummed Greek songs he never knew the words to, and yes, he laughed, but rarely and mostly at Dimitri, who could make Nikos laugh by simply existing in a way that annoyed him.

I told Sophia about the sponge docks in the 1980s, when Baba still dove and the fleet was small but real and the men went out and came back with sponges and stories and sunburns. I told her about the time he brought me a starfish from a dive and I kept it in my room until it started to smell and Mama threw it out and I cried for a day. I told her these things because she asked, and because stories about the dead are how the dead stay alive, and because my father deserves to be more than a name on a grave to the granddaughter he would have loved with the fierce, complicated, silent love that was the only kind Nikos knew.

Alexander listened from across the table and said nothing, which is Alexander's way of participating. He heard everything. He filed it away in whatever spreadsheet he keeps in his head. My children process grief differently — Sophia asks questions, Alexander observes — and both methods are valid and both methods break my heart in different ways.

I made baklava this weekend. Not Mama's baklava — my baklava, with commercial phyllo and my own hands and a honey syrup I make with cinnamon and a strip of orange peel. It is good. It is not Mama's. But it is mine, and I made it on Labor Day weekend while the sun set and my children ate it warm from the pan and Sophia said it tastes like Yia-yia's house, which is the highest compliment any food has ever received in the history of this family, and I held it close and did not cry. Much.

The souvlaki on Labor Day was for the grill, for the last long evening of summer, for eating outside while the neighborhood smelled like fire and char. But souvlaki takes time and skewers and a certain patience I do not always have on a weekday, and the flavors I was chasing — the lemon, the oregano, the garlicky richness that smells like every Greek kitchen I have ever loved — those flavors live just as easily in a good chicken gyro. This is the recipe I reach for when I want that same warmth without the production: quick to marinate, quick to cook, and exactly the kind of thing my father would have eaten standing over the sink at midnight without apology.

Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus 30 minutes marinating) | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes active | Servings: 4

Ingredients

For the chicken:
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into strips
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
For the tzatziki:
1 cup plain full-fat Greek yogurt
1/2 English cucumber, grated and squeezed dry
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
Salt and pepper to taste
For serving:
4 large pita rounds, warmed
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup cucumber, diced
Crumbled feta cheese, to taste
Fresh parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Marinate the chicken. In a bowl or zip-top bag, combine olive oil, garlic, lemon juice, oregano, cumin, paprika, salt, and pepper. Add chicken strips and toss to coat. Marinate at room temperature for 30 minutes, or refrigerate for up to 8 hours.
Make the tzatziki. Grate the cucumber and wring it firmly in a clean towel or paper towels until as dry as possible. Combine with Greek yogurt, garlic, lemon juice, and dill. Season with salt and pepper. Refrigerate until ready to serve — it improves as it sits.
Cook the chicken. Heat a large skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat. Add a drizzle of olive oil. Cook chicken strips in a single layer, without crowding, for 4 to 5 minutes per side, until deeply golden and cooked through to 165°F. Work in batches if needed so the chicken sears rather than steams.
Rest and slice. Let the chicken rest for 3 to 4 minutes, then slice or roughly chop into bite-sized pieces. This keeps it juicy and makes it easier to wrap.
Warm the pitas. Wrap the pita rounds in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30 seconds, or warm them directly on the skillet for 30 seconds per side until soft and pliable.
Assemble. Spread a generous spoonful of tzatziki down the center of each warm pita. Layer on chicken, tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, and feta. Garnish with parsley. Fold or wrap tightly and serve immediately — or lay it all out family-style and let everyone build their own.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Chicken Gyros {New and Improved} — The Flavor That Lives in the Hands