Fries are boiling; pita bread is browning on the grill; slabs of lamb and beef spin and sweat. By 11:21 Friday morning, the line at Niko Niko's stretches into the back. Dimitri, 28, stands at the counter in his black rubber Birkenstocks looking like an extraordinarily friendly bouncer; he takes orders, greets customers and answers the phone all at once. He tears through the line calling every woman "dear" or "sweetheart" in a way that's endearing, not irritating.
Deron Neblett
People said they were crazy selling gyros to cowboys.
Deron Neblett
Dimitri bought the restaurant, but his mother's still the boss.
Behind him three women work double-time: One slices the gyros; another spoons up tzatziki sauce; the third slices and peels potatoes all day. Dimitri bought the restaurant from his mother three years ago. He's trained the staff so they all know how to do each other's jobs. "Like a casino where all the dealers switch from table to table every 20 minutes," Dimitri says. "Everybody should know every game here."
"Can I get the dog-mates?" asks a guy with a thick Texas accent.
"Dolmades," Dimitri says, correcting his pronunciation for stuffed grape leaves. He says it'll take about 15 minutes. The guy looks upset and orders a shish kebab (which takes about the same time).
"Where you going, man?" Dimitri asks. "You in a rush?"
The food Niko Niko's sells isn't fast food -- the Mexican women in the kitchen may serve it in ten minutes -- but the roasted potatoes boil on the stove for two hours then cook in the oven another 30 minutes. In the back, one woman is patiently painting butter onto strips of phyllo dough as she layers baklava; another is slicing the fat off 20 pounds of baby lamb shanks. She's going to spend all afternoon seasoning and roasting them.
The lamb kebab is thrown on the chargrill, and flames engulf it; the air smells like spiced meat and mushrooms. By noon the tables are all full. Customers are standing around, and bags of to-go orders line the counter. Dimitri recently donated the pink-and-blue home he grew up in to indigent housing; the house will be picked up and moved to a new location, so there will be room to expand the restaurant. He wants to add another ten tables. No matter what time of day, Niko Niko's is packed. The lunch crowd tapers off just as the dinner rush begins. Dimitri watches the windows, and if he sees a homeless person wave to him or pet his German shepherd, Athena, Dimitri orders a gyro or fries to go. If someone is hungry, he feeds them.
While he works the register, Dimitri tastes every sauce and soup that is made before it's served. He can tell if something needs a pinch of salt or another clove of garlic. "Shit," he says. "All I know how to do is eat."
At 12:45 Eleni arrives. Her daughter accidentally took Eleni's car keys, so Eleni begged the men painting her house to drive her to Niko Niko's. She stands by the counter in a gray pantsuit smiling and greeting customers. She doesn't have to yell at anyone nowadays, the staff is so well trained. She gently says "Señora" and gestures to a table that needs cleaning, but there's an urgency in her eyes that the staff doesn't miss.
Pete Pappas has been telling Dimitri it's time for him to expand the business, and Eleni hates retirement. She wants to evict Dimitri from his home next door and open a Greek bakery. She doesn't like sitting at home drinking coffee, doing nothing, feeling old.
She wants to work.
