Arni se Pita (Αρνί σε Πίτα) is grilled or roasted lamb wrapped in pita, the lamb counterpart to the more familiar pork wraps sold across Greece. The angle is the meat itself: lamb is fattier and more strongly flavored than pork or chicken, so the whole construction is tuned to manage that richness rather than hide it. Built well, it is a deep, savory wrap with a clean edge; built badly, it is greasy, gamey, or dried out at the ends.
The build runs in order from the bread outward. The pita is warmed and lightly oiled so it turns supple and faintly toasted, the platform for everything else. The lamb is the center: either cut from a roast or grilled in pieces, it should be cooked through but still juicy, with a browned exterior that gives the wrap its backbone. It is sliced or pulled and laid in a line down the bread. From there the additions exist to cut fat: a sharp dairy element, sliced raw onion, tomato, and a leaf or two, kept restrained so the lamb stays the headline. The pita is then rolled tight so it holds its shape in the hand. Good execution shows lamb that is browned and tender with the fat rendered, a warm flexible wrap, and enough acid or onion bite to keep each mouthful from going heavy. Sloppy versions read immediately: underbrowned lamb that tastes flat and fatty, meat overcooked into dry strings, or so much sauce that the pita collapses before the end. Because lamb fat firms fast as it cools, this is a wrap meant to be eaten warm and soon.
It shifts by cut and by what rides alongside. Shoulder pulled from a slow roast eats softer and richer than skewered pieces, which carry more char and chew. The acid and aromatics can lean toward yogurt and herbs or toward raw onion and lemon, each pushing the balance a different way against the fat. Lamb cooked in cubes on a skewer is its own preparation, the lamb souvlaki, and the pork-and-fries street wrap built on the same flatbread is a different beast again; each deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here.