As I've said before, come lunchtime at work, I have very little time to do things like eat, much less the opportunity to actually leave my work-time premises to do so. There are those rare times, however, that the stars align and I find myself in a restaurant during the noon weekday hours like I imagine so many much-more-normal people tend to do on a regular basis.
This lunch story starts on recent a day off where I decided that it would for some reason be a good idea to stay home alone with my two 13-month-old twin boys. It was a frigid, blustery Monday that started before six, and after being stuck indoors all morning, about ten o'clock I was calling my wife begging for help. There might have even been a little crying involved--but I won't say who it was.
My wife, who was diligently bringing home our bacon that day, took control of the situation and instructed me to load up the boys and meet her down by her office for lunch. There she would be able to save me by evening out the ever-important adult-to-child ratio.
Being that she works in the Denver Technological Center, we met at the relatively new location of the Golden-based Ali Baba Grill in the Landmark plaza in Greenwood Village. Now if you read this blog regularly then you will remember that I had some sarcastic words to share about the culinary (and otherwise) diversity in the township of Greenwood Village. (Since the chances are you do not read this regularly, here is the link.) Suffice to say I recognized the irony of my own words as I sat down for my second Middle Eastern meal in this fair suburb.
We sat in a corner booth that immediately became a hit with the boys. It was wide and padded with soft cushions; the perfect place for a toddler to go relatively apeshit but yet not hurt himself all that easily. We ordered and were served quickly. The first plate out was a lovely platter of hummus accompanied by housemade pita, which was thin and more like a flatbread. It had perfect bits of little char and was still warm. It did get a little chewy as it cooled, but those first pieces were fantastic.
I ordered a gyro sandwich with fries. The gyro meat was tender, thick cut and flavorful. The tzatziki sauce (another baby queller) was also very good. All together on the fresh-made pita it was quite a nice sandwich. Certainly worlds better than my typical dry bologna sandwich that I inhale while typing, checking messages or trying to put out a fire of some kind. The fries aren't worth too many words: standard diner-style plain fries--but they were plentiful, hit the spot and I ate more than necessary.
My wife's chicken shawarama was also rolled up in that delectable flatbread but was not nearly as good as my gyro. The chicken was tender enough, but it did not have any grilled or spit-roasted flavor. All the flavor, in fact, came from the mildly spicy red sauce which was nothing special. The average fries to me were the good part about her plate.
We ate and paid in what seemed to be way too short of a time thanks to the efficient (and friendly) lunchtime service. Before I knew it I was back in my car with two babies, waving goodbye to their mother. I'm not exactly sure what else we did that day, but the fact that I am writing this is evidence that I survived. So here's to another weekday lunch out, I hope the next one worth writing about is not too far away.
Two From the Thanksgiving Table
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