My first birthday in the Bay Area was at this restaurant. Eight years ago, in the summer, a Uhaul, two-sleeved breeze, we moved to the world-renowned San Francisco. Ignorance as we, with a modest salary that was satisfying to our own at the time (in fact, it was just reaching the food and clothing line for California's living standards), stood in front of the Safeway freezer and couldn't believe our eyes - a bucket of milk actually cost more than three dollars?! Our village milk is $1.49 - a bucket when the price is reduced! So dispel the idea of renovating all the furniture, go to IKEA to buy a table, two chairs and benches, even in Santa Clara. The birthday is coming soon. He searched the restaurant for a surprise, and finally settled in this small, but full of Greek feelings: blue and white tablecloths, white tiles, blue sky and blue sea, and all kinds of dolls in traditional Greek costumes, for me, It's all novelty and all beautiful. And the dishes here are even more so: the slightly bitter-sweet olives in the salad, the salty Feta cheese, the chunks of tomatoes, the finely chopped red onions, and the full olive oil and garlic cloves are really fresh. Inside Gyro is a mutton slice made of real lamb, roasted with oil, plus sour Tzatziki, and refreshing fennel, as well as fresh tomatoes and slightly ripe green leafy vegetables, wrapped in a slightly simmered soft and sweet pita cake, the mouth is wonderful. The most exaggerated and delicious of all was his chips and dip. They were crisp and suitable, sprinkled with fresh parsley and a fresh fragrance. Dipping sauce is not ordinary ketchup, but a purple sauce unique to his family. According to the later proprietress, it is slowly stirred up and emulsified by olives, garlic and olive oil. This sauce can definitely be said to be in the sky, underground, sinking fish and falling, closing the moon. Even if you have a father-killing feud with chips, you must remember to order a plate when you go to his house for dinner: nothing to do with chips, just for sauce! That's how this tiny, exotic restaurant buried in the industrial area became our favorite. Every time I came here, I could see the female boss, known as the Boss Lady, with her blond hair, a glass of white wine, sitting slowly smoking cigarettes at the side door of the back kitchen. She speaks strong Greek English, with the airy tone that most Europeans have, until you really know her, the cold heat, the kind of "walk to the water poor, do the clouds" atmosphere calm, people can not help but like her. The kitchen also has a Mexican brother with a beard, English is not very fluent, but the baked pita French fries are first-class, every time he comes to us with his limited English warm greetings, but also intimately changed the bread before the meal into the hot pita cake just out of the pot.

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