King David's: A Gyro Love Story Gone Terribly, Tragically Wrong
Ever since I moved to New York, I've been on a mission--a noble, relentless search for the perfect gyro. You see, I'm from the West Coast, where real gyros are about as rare as a parking spot in Manhattan. Back there, the closest thing I had was a spot called Pita Pit, which, bless its heart, was "fine" for a few years. It held me over. Barely.
But my first real gyro experience was in 2002, from a street vendor. I had no idea what I was eating--just some mysterious, delicious wrap filled with juicy meat, sauce, and magic. Ever since then, I've been chasing that flavor like some kind of Mediterranean ghost.
Fast-forward to 2025, and I find myself at the New York State Fair. Now, let me say this: if there's anywhere in the state to find the gyro of my dreams, it had to be there. And lo and behold--there it was. A little booth called King David's. Unlike the other stalls, which were all sausage-this and onion-that, King David's looked Greek. Like, it actually gave "I studied abroad in Athens for real" energy.
I was about to order a regular gyro, when something caught my eye: Gyro Salad. The words alone sent chills down my spine. I ordered one. Sixteen glorious dollars. And friends... that salad changed my life. The lamb? Charred to perfection, juicy, seasoned by the gods. The pita? Warm and pillowy. The veggies? Crisp, fresh, kissed by a Mediterranean breeze. The tzatziki? Creamy, garlicky, divine. I was transported--back to 2002, back to that first bite, back to everything I've ever loved in a gyro.
So naturally... I went back the same day and got another one. That's not obsession--that's good decision-making.
I even asked the guy at the booth where they were based. He said Fayetteville. Okay, road trip vibes. But then--plot twist--he also mentioned another location right down the street. Destiny!
So I waited patiently for my next craving to hit. I wanted it to be right. And that day was today: September 3, 2025, 1:22 PM. I walked into the restaurant, full of hope and unearned confidence. But immediately... something was off.
The sign didn't match the one at the fair. The colors were different. The vibe? Suspicious. But hey, maybe they just went extra for the fair. I wasn't gonna judge based on branding. I'm a mature person. I ordered the same gyro salad I had at the fair, with joy in my heart and $32 ready to go for two bowls of magic.
The lady at the counter, however, had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned the fair. Like... no acknowledgment whatsoever. Okay, maybe she wasn't there that day. Benefit of the doubt. I double-checked the menu--the description looked right. Pita, lamb, veggies, tzatziki. Yes. This was it.
Or so I thought.
I took the bag home. It felt right. The weight was promising. The anticipation? Palpable.
Then I opened it.
And friends... I was betrayed.
Instead of crisp romaine, I got a heap of sad spring mix. Instead of juicy, circular red onions and chunky tomatoes, I got pickles and pepperoncinis--like someone raided the condiment bar at a Subway. The lamb was not juicy, not charred, but dry, burned to a crisp, and crumbled like regret. The tzatziki? Nowhere to be found. And the "pita" was... I kid you not... a burnt wheat tortilla. A tortilla.
What in the sad wrap hell was this?
Still, I tried. I wanted to believe. Maybe the flavors would redeem the appearance.
They did not.
It was gross. Like, actually gross. Not "I'm being dramatic" gross. Not "eh, it's not the same" gross. It was "how dare you" gross.
So here I sit, still searching for the real King David's, the one from the fair. Maybe it's the Fayetteville location. Maybe what I had was a mirage, a fever dream conjured by hunger and nostalgia. Or maybe... just maybe... I've been duped.
Either way, I won't stop searching. But this location? Absolutely not. If you love yourself--and gyros--don't let this be the end of your own gyro love story.
To whoever ate here and had a better experience than I did: may the tzatziki always be in your favor. read more