Hash S.
Yelp
You'll read plenty of five-star reviews here based on the Insta-ready aesthetics of the dining room. You'll read even more about the moderate expectations of the family food cart circuit and how they were modestly exceeded here. You may even take in a personal anecdote or two about interactions with the chefs and staff, and how the customers feel that culinary pedigree applies to the meal they just ate.
If you're lucky, you might even hear about the meal.
What's bothered me about Twisted Gyros since its location on Cornell opened isn't the effusive nature of the reviews, but how little they say about the food itself. This is modestly surprising in Hillsboro, which already serves as home to a robust lineup of Lebanese and Iraqi restaurants whose menus overlap with Twisted Gyro's glossier, milder version.
I went in for the first time earlier this week and ordered dinner to go. I don't typically delve into the process, because no two nights tend to be the same, but the pickup was little different than, say, Oasis. What struck me once I returned home, however, were small details. Fries aren't a make-or-break gyro/shwarma/falafel-stand item for me, but it was odd to see the Burger King '90s "new fries" potato starch coating. Not expecting tallow here, but it seems like a strange textural choice if the desired impact is a crisp fry.
Then there was the gyro itself. I went with The Greek with the belief that any great cart/restaurant should practice sound fundamentals. As a nod to the Grease Trucks back in Jersey, I went fries-in. It was a somewhat-understood assignment: Four fries were inserted parallel to each other, with the rest included as a side, but perhaps a life of Italian hot dogs and fat sandwiches (and the occasional Primanti Brothers stop with my cousin from Latrobe) has warped my view of acceptable levels of fries within a sandwich.
But fat this sandwich was. The one consistency throughout was that every ingredient existed thicker than it typically does. The pita was a spongy disc. The lamb existed in large chunks. Even the tzatziki and hummus were more of a paste... drowning the crisp onion and pickle.
Within that substantial texture, character suffocated. I know the chefs of Macdougal Street and Ditmars Boulevard may lack the pedigree of our duo here, but they raised me with an expectation of what I'd smell, see and taste when that pita hit my hands. To my great pleasure, the gyro/falafel/shwarma stands of the now-departed Alder pod, their Eastside and suburban successors and our Hillsboro restaurateurs have done tremendous work imbuing their food with that same character.
While I can see what Twisted Gyro's substantial corporate hospitality and family cart night following sees in its offerings, they exist as a faint echo of the dishes being prepared with much stronger voice not far from Cornell and 25th. There are chefs whose foods pay loving tribute to the cultures that birthed them, but there are others whose dishes serve as simplified translations for a broader audience.
I don't blame Twisted Gyros for taking this path and wish them as much success as these audiences will bring them. It's a lovely dining room, a well-designed website and an efficient ordering system... but there are places making their food with far more heart.
