Gyros Kotopoulo me Tzatziki is chicken gyros specified with tzatziki, and naming the sauce in the order is not redundant: it signals that the yogurt-cucumber-garlic spread is the load-bearing element here, the thing the wrap is built around rather than a default smear. With chicken, which brings less fat than pork, the tzatziki is what supplies richness, cooling weight, and the garlic backbone, so its quality decides the sandwich.
Good tzatziki is strained yogurt, grated and drained cucumber, garlic, oil, and a little acid, thick enough to hold a line when spread. It goes onto warmed soft bread first, pushed to the edges so every bite reaches it, then the hot shaved chicken lands on top. The contrast is the whole event: crisp-edged ribbons of meat off the rotating cone against the cold, dense, garlicky spread. Tomato, onion, and fries follow, and the paper goes around it tight. The failure modes are specific. Thin, watery tzatziki soaks the bread and slides out the bottom; an under-garlicked or sugary version tastes of nothing against the meat; spreading it in one central stripe instead of edge to edge leaves half the wrap dry.
Because the sauce is the headline, balance runs through it. Enough to coat and cool every bite, not so much that the bread turns to paste. The chicken still has to be properly shaved and crisp on its edges, because limp pale meat against even good tzatziki just reads as cold and soft. When both halves are right, the wrap has the push-pull, hot and cool, crisp and creamy, that the me tzatziki designation is promising.
This is the sauce-forward branch of the chicken family. The plain wrap, the everything build, the lemon-oregano seasoning, the pita-specific assembly, and the plated merída each lead from a different variable, and each deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here. The marker of this one is that the tzatziki is thick, garlicky, edge to edge, and unmistakably the point.