The Great Gyro War of Coney Island Ave!
The Great Gyro War of Coney Island Ave!
Plus! Neighbor says YES to me washing his undies!! Items of Interest!!!
Hello everyone,
Happy Labor Day, and welcome to Issue #131 of CAFÉ ANNE!
Well I am back from my two-week break, having taken time off for my annual summer cabin VACATION in Selkirk Shores State Park, a beautiful location on Lake Ontario overlooking the Nine Mile Station nuclear power plant. I am now feeling recharged and more radiant (radioactive?) than ever.
So in the last issue, I reported on my experience doing laundry for strangers with Clotheslyne, a gig economy startup that’s sort of an Uber for laundry.
As you will recall, my total profit for picking up, washing and delivering a load of laundry—after deducting transportation expenses—was $4.07.
If I wanted to make it work, however, I realized I could advertise in my apartment building and serve as a “Clotheslyner” just for my neighbors. Without the bus fare and travel time, I calculated, I could earn $20 an hour.
But would my neighbors be cool with me seeing their underwear? I ended the story with a shoutout to Roger, who lives down the hall and is a loyal subscriber.
“Roger, I know you're reading this, so let me know!” I wrote.
After the issue published, several folks posted in the comments section, demanding to know Roger’s response.
“Dying that Roger is a reader and can weigh in,” wrote Courtney D. in LA. “C’MON, ROGER! We wanna know!”
“Did Roger ever answer?” chimed in Felicia in Boston. “I so enjoyed this issue but I’m dying to know!”
It took a while. Roger, it turns out, was away on vacation with his husband. But a few days later, he sent me an email with the subject line, “Dirty Laundry.” Which he said I am welcome to share with you:
“It is 2AM @ LAX & we are on an unplanned short Delta flight layover en route to JFK from Honolulu.
A good time to catch up on Cafe Anne as it always makes me smile :)
And then there I am, a mention. Honored.
But of course you can see my undies, so many have (but not in the past 9 years).
I think you should go for it in our building!”
Haha! So I have at least one potential customer. Thanks Roger!
In other news, huge NYC West Indian Day Parade shoutouts to the newest paid subscribers Rebecca M., Anthony B., Kyle D. and the mysterious Cesarfa. That’s enough $$$ for a feather headdress, subway fare, a bake and shark sandwich and a trip to the ER.
I am very excited for this week’s issue, of course. I joined fellow NYC Substack writer Paul Lukas to take a look at Gyro Hut and Gyro King Express, rival gyro shops duking it out across the street from each other in central Brooklyn. Please enjoy.
Regards!
Anne
FEATURE
The Great Gyro War of Coney Island Ave!
Last Tuesday, I hopped on the Q train to meet my friend Paul in Ditmas Park. Our plan: to eat lunch, twice!
There are two gyro shops in his neighborhood operating across from other at the corner of Coney Island Avenue and Foster Avenue. On the southeast corner, there’s Gyro Hut ("Listen the Sizzle, Enjoy the Taste!"). And on the northwest corner, Gyro King Express ("Natural Healing Powers!”).
Which makes no sense. Because gyro, a Greek dish that is basically 10 pounds of lamb mooshed into a cone shape and roasted on a vertical spit, is not exactly the most popular food in NYC.
And Paul's neighborhood isn't even Greek. The district, which is south of Prospect Park and known for its Victorian architecture, is a mix of Orthodox Jews and professional types along with immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh.
Since Paul also writes a Substack newsletter, the delightful Inconspicuous Consumption (which I highly recommend—recent topics included a pretzel manufacturing exposé and a look at the difference between a speed bump and a speed hump), we thought it'd be fun to visit both shops and write our own accounts. Dueling narratives—sort of like dueling gyro shops! Paul even had a headline in mind: "The Gyro Wars of Coney Island Avenue."
You can read Paul's highly entertaining account here.
"Remind me how this came about?" I asked, arriving at Paul's apartment.
"I think it first came about because I was aware that these two similar businesses, and similarly-named businesses, were catty-corner to each other in my neighborhood, and it reminded me of the story you did about the next-door-neighbor bagel shops," he said.
Ah, one of my favorites: "The Bagel Shop Next to the Bagel Shop!" The two Staten Island bagels stores, I discovered when reporting the story last year, were both thriving because each had its own distinct bagel style—one water-boiled and chewy, the other yeasty and pillowy. Plus everyone eats bagels, so there was plenty of business to go around.
"I mentioned the gyro shops to you sometime last year," Paul continued. "And then more recently, you suggested that we collaborate on something. And so I resurfaced the gyro idea. And here we are."
"Now I have a question for you," he said. "What is our default pronunciation?"
"I was going to ask you that, because I was researching this on the internet this morning," I said. "A lot of people in New York say 'jye-row,' but it turns out that's wrong!"
"Huh!" said Paul. "Is it 'gee-row'? Or should you use a 'gh' sound?"
"I know!" I said. "It's one of those foods that I don't order because I'm afraid to sound stupid!"
We decided to ask the shop proprietors. Maybe pronunciation was one of their differentiating factors.
But first, I was excited to share some of my background research with Paul. He already knew gyro is a Greek dish, but had no idea it was first factory-manufactured in Chicago back in the 1970s by one Mr. John Garlic, a Jewish Cadillac salesman who owned a pod of live dolphins.
I'd also discovered that there are about 200 shops in NYC featuring gyro. This might sound like a lot, but not when you consider the fact that NYC has more than 28,000 restaurants, including nearly 3,000 pizzerias. Gyro shops are actually quite rare.
I also shared some of my sleuthing on the shops themselves. Gyro Hut is the veteran—open for more than a decade. Gyro King Express opened last year following a fire at the original Gyro King, which has since reopened. They are both Halal, which means their meat is hand-slaughtered by a Muslim butcher invoking Allah before slitting the animal's throat to drain the blood.
And finally, while Gyro Hut promised to "bring a smile to your face and make your whole day great," Gyro King had even grander ambitions: "Change Your Food, Change Your Life!"
"How many gyros does it take to change your life?" Paul wondered.
"We're about to find out!" I said.
Before making the two-block trek to Brooklyn's Gyro District, we planned our strategy. We'd order and share one gyro pita sandwich and a soda at each shop. And we'd definitely go for the lamb gyro rather than the chicken gyro option.
"The whole point of gyro is lamb," said Paul. "Chicken is like a concession to people who want to do it healthy, or whatever."
"So what we're saying is that chicken is bullshit," I said.
"Not every chicken!" said Paul. "Fried chicken is not bullshit. But in this context, I feel like chicken is bullshit."
We went in. And boy, did we feel like winners when we saw the menu. While the chicken gyro cost $7, as Paul noted, the lamb version was a bargain at $6.99.
"We're saving a penny!" I crowed.
Paul immediately started grilling the man behind the counter, who turned out to be the owner, Khan: "Is it jye-row or yeer-row or gee-row?" he asked.
"Jye-row," said Khan, preferring the NYC mispronunciation.
We ordered our sandwich and looked around. "This place is tiny," I observed.
"Well," said Paul, "it's just a hut."
While Khan a threw a pita on the grill, stuffed with it with lamb and added toppings (we went for the classic tomato, iceberg lettuce and red onion), we asked about the competition and how his place was different from Gyro King Express.
"That's what the customers say, 'Hey, what is different?'" said Khan. "I say, 'My suggestion, you want to come one day here and next day there. Try both.' I don't say about this good, and that bad, because you want to try. You must eat and try, you suggest which one is the best."
I admired his confidence in his product, and told him that was exactly our plan.
While Gyro Hut is too small for tables or chairs, it does offer outdoor seating, which turned out to be two picnic tables wedged into the tiny parking lot next door which was packed with SUVs and surrounded by a chain link fence.
We sat and extricated the sandwich from its foil wrapper.
Before digging in, Paul expressed disappointment that Khan didn't shave the lamb off the meat cone. "It was sort of pre-shaved," he said. "I feel like watching the spinning thing and the shaving of it seems like part of the ritual of this food item. So to me, like it loses a few entertainment points."
Then he bit in. Which wasn't easy, because the sandwich was sloppy and the size of a torpedo.
"It's good," he reported. "Your basic gyro."
My turn!
"It's mushy, it's charred, it tastes like meatloaf," I said of the lamb, which was drowning in white sauce, the mysterious, mayo-based concoction offered by every Halal food cart and stand in the city.
"It's a little like meatloaf," Paul agreed.
"And how would you describe the atmosphere?" I asked.
Paul looked around. "Parking lot chic," he declared.
Next stop: Gyro King Express. I was surprised to see that while Gyro King was more modern and spiffy, being newer, it was largely identical to its rival.
Both had Pakistani owners. The gyro options were the same. The prices were the same. The electric green color scheme and shop layout were the same (They both, upon reflection, look like a blown-up version of a typical NYC Halal street food cart). The topping options were the same. The way the employees pronounced the dish was the same.
To Paul's disappointment, Gyro King also had its lamb pre-cut, so there was no cone-shaving entertainment to be enjoyed.
Another similarity: this joint was also too small for a table and chairs. But there was outdoor seating at the cafe tables in front of the Carvel across the street, where Paul and I ate our second lunch.
Surely, the Gyro King sandwich would at least taste different. I dug in.
"It's a little spicier?" I said hopefully.
But Paul took a bite and shook his head. The lamb at Gyro King, he declared, tasted exactly same as the lamb at Gyro Hut.
Now this was a puzzle. Perhaps the problem was that neither of us are gyro connoisseurs. We lacked the sophistication needed to discern the subtle differences that set these shops apart.
Back inside Gyro King, I spoke with Shana, a teacher at a nearby school on her lunch break. She was a Gyro King regular. "Good food, good deal, good people," she said of the shop. "I love it!"
I asked her about Gyro Hut, the rival on the other side of Coney Island Avenue. Her surprising response: "I didn't know there's another one. What are you talking about?"
We returned to Gyro Hut. Khan, the owner, was busy praying in the back, so I couldn't discuss my findings with him. But I did chat with Syed, a Middle Eastern dad buying lunch for his family. I was delighted to learn he is a regular at both spots.
Why did he choose Gyro Hut today?
"It was convenient," he said. "I found a parking spot."
When he's driving west on Foster Avenue, he said, he stops at Gyro King. When he's driving east, he stops at Gyro Hut.
This made me laugh and laugh.
"They have very similar tastes, similar food," he said.
"And how are they different?" I wondered.
"East or west, that's it!" said Syed.
I also spoke to Bialo, who said he patronizes Gyro Hut three or four times a week. "I live right around the corner,” he explained.
"Do you ever go to Gyro King?" I asked.
"I go to Gyro King too," he said. "It depends."
"What does it depend on?"
"How lazy I am," he said. "One's closer. They taste the same, to be honest with you."
Reader, do you know what suddenly came to mind? Back in the late 90s, there were two Target stores located directly across from each other on either side of the MN-36, a big highway running through Roseville, a suburb north of Minneapolis.
Because the expressway served as a major divide, the two stores served different populations. Both thrived for nearly a decade before the older, smaller Target closed down.
In New York City, a busy thoroughfare like Coney Island Avenue can act as just as much of a barrier as an eight-lane super highway. Many residents, out of sheer laziness or force of habit, stick with the drugstore, grocery and dry cleaner closest to home. The options two blocks away—or across the street—might as well be on Mars.
There are three bodegas within two blocks of my home in Brooklyn Heights, for example. Two are clean, friendly and offer a great selection. The third is dirty, understocked and carries a vibe that can only be described as heartbreaking. But I can get there without crossing the street. Guess which one is my go-to?
So yes, as long as Coney Island Avenue is a pain to cross, the two gyro shops will likely thrive in perpetuity.
Paul, meanwhile, told me that having discovered the excellent deal that is the $7 gyro pita sandwich, he definitely plans to return. "I foresee more gyro in my future," he said.
Ah! "Remember how Gyro King promised to change your life?" I said. "Do you think the way it changed your life is that from now on, you'll be eating more gyro?"
"Haha, yes, definitely," he said.
ITEMS OF INTEREST
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NYC Councilmember Cop Biter Gets Parade in Her Honor!
What NYC Looks Like to Americans Who Only Watch Fox News and Haven’t Been Here For 20 Years
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Only launders in the building :)
Reading your stack is like a quick trip to NYC for me. I used to go to NYC 3 or 4 times a year. Now it has been several years since my last one. Lucky me, I can read your newsletters!