A gyro with patates at The Little Greek Corner in Fenton

There is that admonition on the inadvisability of “gas station sushi.” How about, though, gas station Greek?

Oh, yeah, that’s totally fine.

Actually, this is not entirely accurate: the gas station that’s connected to The Little Greek Corner is closed, at least for the moment. Still doing a terrific business, though, is this decidedly diminutive eatery that’s a real contender for the “Most Oddly Placed” restaurant in the region.

We noticed the blue and white Greek flag fluttering from the gas station once when we’d stopped at the Krispy Kreme, just off the Bowles Exit, so close you can catch a whiff of that hot oil and sugary frosting as you drive by on I-44.

Any Greek restaurant with a hand-painted window mural of a smiling Zeus paring off slices of a slab of pressed lamb and beef from a spinning shawarma machine gains immediate credibility in our eyes. The hand chalked menu inside doesn’t hurt, either.

The atmosphere… Well, don’t go expecting romantic lighting or cozy, taverna-type seating, or graceful amphora, or other such Mediterranean doodads and décor. There’s a poster for My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Part 2. (Yes, we too thought Part 1 was more than enough.) And a few tables and chairs. That’s it, aside from a kitchen with a grill that looks like it means business and some coolers and a pair of those rotating meat spools that seem to set the columns of beautifully browning protein into a slow and seductive dance, practically begging you to give them a try.

The Little Greek Corner is the more stable (literally) sister of the popular My Big Fat Greek Truck that cruises the area, dispensing Hellenic fare. Its clientele consists largely of local workers who start popping in around 11:00 every day. The Maritz Corporation is right down the road; given that they have approximately three and a half million employees, one might expect a line.

The menu’s food truck-simple: almost all variations on souvlakia and gyri, which are the proper plural forms, you’ll remember from your Greek class, of souvlaki and gyro. If you don’t know the difference, here it is:

Souvlaki meat is cubed and skewered and grilled before being packed into pita or otherwise presented. Meat for gyros is pressed onto spindles and rotated as it cooks, hence the name: gyro as in “gyroscope.”

(This leads, unfortunately, to an old argument, particularly it appears, in St. Louis, about the “correct” pronunciation of “gyro.” “Correct” here is debatable. There is the Greek pronunciation, which aspirates the “g” and which sounds, when most non-native speakers try to emulate it, like they’re in need of the Heimlich maneuver. And the logical, though incorrect one that depends on pronouncing “gyro” as in “gyroscope.” And the one most settle on, which sounds vaguely like yeero.)

Souvlaki and gyro look alike, especially wrapped in pita. Taste them side by side—we know something about this—and you’ll see souvlaki have a lemony tang, a charbroiled flavor with a fine crust. The firmly packed lamb and beef that falls in glistening slices from those spinning meat tops, tastes distinctly roasted, with the faint gaminess of the lamb offset by the near-sweetness of the beef.

Souvlaki skewering also allows for other meats; chicken, pork, and shrimp plates are available, pita wrapped, like gyro, with tomatoes, onion slices—oh, and potatoes (see above). The last isn’t common in most Greek wraps in the US—“it is in Greece”—said Olga, one of the owners when we asked her about it. In fact, potatoes get a lot of attention here. They’re sliced and fried in olive oil, then served with a sprinkle of salt, pepper, and oregano, or covered the house’s tzatziki sauce and feta cheese crumbles with a spritz of lemon (below). Either way will spoil you for French fries.

The gyri here are more fully stuffed than at most places selling them locally, almost impossible to eat without spilling some which, as with hard-shell tacos, is not at all a bad thing. You just have to have a fork handy for the excess.

Our first thought when we came across The Little Greek Corner was about the old gibe in international soccer circles which depends upon knowing that a corner kick in soccer is often just called a “corner” and that Greeks, when they immigrate to many countries elsewhere in Europe, have a reputation for becoming fishmongers. (Why does Greece do so badly in international play? Every time they get a corner they open a fish shop.)

No fish at The Little Greek Corner, except in Lent when Fridays bring fish & chips, shrimp gyri, and plaki, or baked fish with vegetables). If you’re on your way to or from Six Flags or if you are provisioning at Krispy Kreme, might as well stroll across the street, just behind the closed gas station (how many other restaurants can claim those kind of directions?) and look for the carving knife-wielding Zeus. He’s smiling for a reason. Not the least of which is the baklava rolls.