In the pursuit of culinary excellence one must take risks. And in the world of culinary risks, one has never felt more threatened than when walking into Quick Pita.

Having walked into pita-shops blackout in numerous countries during my time as a drunk food critic, I have not only eaten, but regurgitated my fair share of exceptional falafels, shwarma, and tzatziki. Therefore, walking into Quick Pita I had high expectations of later throwing up quality food.

The night began with what is colloquially known as a session of “helicoptering”. Like the blades of a helicopter, the handle of Orange Creamsicle Burnettes made its way around our group of six people. Eventually it had been evenly divided into six stomachs. I cannot over-emphasize the importance of alcoholically-singeing one’s taste buds before attempting to dual with Quick Pita.

Quick Pita. (Not pictured: My friend’s vomit.)

As the night progressed, I felt the draw. My lips had not started the night desiring to sample some hummus, but my lower inhibitions let me stomach speech more freely.

Granted, my stomach was slurring its words but I definitely heard the word “Pita” in there.

Upon entering the store, our group attempted to greet the partons with a kindly opening along the lines of, “Salutations! What delicacy would you stake your establishment’s reputation on?” However this was materialized by my mouth as, “what do you guys sells the pita or… Tombs?”

Fortunately, the patrons did not hear this incoherent first impression because they were too busy harassing someone on the other end of the phone. Therefore, our group of meandering and easily distractible ne’er-do-wells were able to slide undetected onto the bar stools after slurring a handful of random numbers that apparently correlate to a menu.

When evaluating the customer service, this reporter must maintain that despite a certifiable “brown-out” there are a few solidified memories, none of which involve having my well-being threatened by the ownership or other patrons. Quite remarkable.

Finally, the food. By the beard of Zeus, it was good. Perhaps it was fact the falafel wrap had mixed with the cucumber and dill perfectly. Perhaps the danger of being threatened by the owners in Arabic just got the adrenaline flowing. Perhaps the fact nothing in the pita had touched Bud Light. We will never know what their secret ingredient is.

My overall rating: Quick Pita’s tastiness just slightly outweighs the sketchiness.