Gyros Kotopoulo apó óla is chicken gyros with everything, and the phrase apó óla (from all of it) is doing real work: it is the order you place when you want every standard component in the wrap rather than a stripped-down version. The angle here is not a different meat or a different sauce but a maximalist assembly. Everything the counter has for a chicken wrap goes in, and the test of a good one is whether all of it still tastes like a single sandwich instead of a pile.
The build is the chicken stack handled the usual way, shaved off the rotating cone in crisp-edged ribbons, but the wrap is loaded to its full spec. Warmed soft bread, tzatziki spread to the edges, the hot shaved chicken, tomato, raw onion, and fries, all packed in before the paper closes tight. Some counters add a second sauce or a dusting of paprika as part of the full set. The thing that goes wrong with an everything wrap is overload: too much tzatziki turning the bread to paste, fries crammed in until they crush, onion stacked so heavy it drowns the meat. A good apó óla is generous but balanced, the bread still holding its shape when you bite through the side.
Because nothing is left out, proportion is the only thing the cook controls, and it is what separates the good ones. The chicken still has to be the loudest element; the fries are texture and bulk, not the main event; the tzatziki binds rather than floods. When that balance holds, everything reads as a complete, deliberately assembled wrap rather than a counter dumping all its bins into one round.
This is the fully loaded end of the chicken family. The plain wrap, the lemon-oregano seasoning, the tzatziki-forward version, the pita-specific build, and the plated merída each isolate one variable instead of including all of them, and each deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here. The signature of apó óla is simply that nothing was held back, and that it still arrives as one coherent thing.