We weren’t big on dining out when I was growing up. Truth is, we couldn’t really afford to. With four kids, a mortgage, and decent cooking skills themselves, my parents didn’t really buy food. They bought groceries and the odd few rounds of fish and chips on the beach, but apart from that almost everything we ate was prepared in the kitchen at home. That being said, every now and then there’d be a special occasion. Every now and then we’d make our way into the city and Christchu...
We weren’t big on dining out when I was growing up.
Truth is, we couldn’t really afford to. With four kids, a mortgage, and decent cooking skills themselves, my parents didn’t really buy food. They bought groceries and the odd few rounds of fish and chips on the beach, but apart from that almost everything we ate was prepared in the kitchen at home.
That being said, every now and then there’d be a special occasion. Every now and then we’d make our way into the city and Christchurch’s historic Arts Centre, where each of us would line up for a lunchtime treat.
Back then, Dimitris served souvlakis from a little caravan, tucked into a little corner next to the old gothic revival buildings. Whenever you’d pass by, there would be a little group of people milling about and waiting for their order to be prepared. On a really busy day, the owner, Dimitris Merentitis, would have someone else working with him as he made his way through the orders. You could choose between single, double, or triple meat. Lamb, chicken, or falafel. The Tames always had the same thing: lamb souvlakis with a token bit of salad, and a hearty drenching of beautiful, garlicky, tzatziki sauce.
As you stood there waiting, you’d try and size up the people around you to work out how many orders would have to be completed and checked off before yours would be up. I remember being frustrated when someone would appear from a shop or a stall nearby, having ducked away for a few minutes while their order was prepared. Dammit, I’d think, surely, I’m next.
I don’t know about you, call me a heathen, but as far as I’m concerned there are few gastronomical combinations quite so glorious as hot meat in hot bread. It’s about as simple as it gets, pulled straight off the sizzling grill, wrapped in newsprint and passed into your hungry hands. The bread at Dimitris’ souvlakis was always so pillowy and soft. You’d navigate the first few bites with relative dignity, but by the time you got down to the last fistful of souvlaki, there was no room for quaint niceties like plastic cutlery. Everything would be soaking with meat juice and sauce. Heaven is a place on Earth.
It’s funny how people will always find and celebrate good food. Looking back, I recall the point when we crossed the threshold, in our family. Even though as teenagers our friends were always asking their parents to go to McDonalds or KFC, when each of us had a birthday roll around, we’d ask to go to Dimitris.
And it turns out we weren’t the only ones. We might have thought it was a family secret, but it was a family secret that was apparently shared by half the people in Canterbury.
After years and years and years of serving up how every many million souvlakis, Dimitris has built his operation into a gastronomic institution. From the little stand in the Arts Centre to his Greek restaurant and prominent spot in Riverside Market today, Dimitris is a dining destination that I’d argue now ranks among New Zealand's best-loved spots: Queenstown has Fergburger. Wellington has Fidel’s. Christchurch has Dimitris.
This weekend, Dimitris celebrates forty years of operations in the Garden City. Forty years. So much of the city has changed in that time. The CBD looks completely different. Entire neighbourhoods have gone.
But some things have never changed. Lamb. Bread. Lashings of tzatziki. Dimitris’ success is sizzling, mouthwatering proof you can’t improve on perfection.
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