Gyros Hirino se Pita (Γύρος Χοιρινό σε Πίτα) is pork gyros in the wrapped format, the handheld package that defines Greek street eating. The variable here is the pita itself and the geometry of the fold. This is not pocket bread; it is a soft, thick round, brushed lightly with oil or a touch of the spit fat and warmed flat on the griddle until it is pliable and faintly blistered but never crisp. A pita that bends without cracking is the whole foundation, because everything that follows depends on the wrap holding under its own weight while someone walks and eats.
The assembly is fast and ordered. The warmed bread comes off the griddle, tzatziki goes down first as a barrier against the moisture above, then the shaved pork straight from the spit while it is still hot, then tomato, raw onion, and a handful of fried patates laid along the length rather than piled at one end. The cook rolls it into a cone and the paper goes on immediately to set the shape. Good execution distributes filling along the whole roll so the last bite has meat in it; sloppy work front-loads the pork and leaves a tail of empty oily bread. The seal matters too. A wrap closed while the pita is still warm holds; one rolled after the bread has cooled and stiffened splits down the seam and sheds patates onto the street.
What shifts within this format is mostly load and sequence. Some shops griddle the pita in the spit drippings for a richer, slightly savoury bread; others keep it plain so the tzatziki leads. The order of layers is the quiet tell of a careful kitchen, sauce as a moisture barrier under the meat rather than spooned on top where it slides out the open end. The plated cousin, where the same shavings arrive on a dish with everything alongside instead of rolled in, is a different eating experience entirely and deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here. As a wrap, the test is simple: it should hold its shape from first bite to last and never collapse into a bag of greased bread.