*Marina Petridou is the co-author of the first ever book about souvlaki. Pictured with and at Tomas in Neos Kosmos, Athens. Photo by Angelos Giotopoulos.*

February 2025. The Isthmus of Corinth, which connects the Peloponnesian peninsula with the rest of Greece. After years of passing it, somehow missing it, walking past it, and snubbing it without realising the grave error I was making, I finally encountered it. Without any preamble or warning from the Gods, as I walked towards the end of the little kiosk consigned to the edge of the service station that borders the Corinth canal, I had no idea that I was about to eat some of the best souvlakia of my life.

The place was empty, but the shop is always open. “The shop has only ever closed once since 1958 – and it was during the pandemic.” Those were the words of Mrs. Katerina who, with a poke of the charcoal to shake a snowy blanket of ash and wake it from hibernation, set the grill roaring in full motion again. As if it’s the souvlatzidiko (souvlaki joint) of fairytales, immortal and frozen in time until cosmic travellers stumble upon the frequency it operates in. Or Schrödinger’s souvlatzidiko: both there and not there until you are lucky enough to observe it. Ethereal.

In English: Katerina made souvlakia that were so good that, for a good few minutes that day, I thought I was in another universe. She cooked the pork skewers over charcoal, seasoned them with salt and oregano, slid them onto an ovular metal disc and sank them in lemon juice for sliced bread to drink later. So many of my memories from the transcendental world of perfect souvlakia – at least half of them – seem to be thanks to a woman. Is that also the case down here on earth?

*Katerina’s souvlakia, by the Corinth Canal. Photos by Souvlakination.*

Is The Family BBQ stereotype true?

Because souvlaki is a street food, it’s not something we are typically used to seeing our mothers, grandmothers or aunts make at home, even in matriarchal families. At the same time, it is something we often associate with the men in our lives. Whenever there is a family barbecue, it seems to be the men who are more likely to express interest and voluntarily present themselves at the grill. Meanwhile, the women tend to prepare the mageirefta, other sides, salads and desserts. Although there are many exceptions (and it may be you, who is reading this), this tends to be the routine.

What are the reasons for this? Are men more genetically predisposed to gather around fire and gravitate towards grilled meat? Is it more of a gritty or physical task and, if so, does/should that determine who does it? Or are we socially conditioned this way? No idea.

One thing that we can all acknowledge and agree on, though, is that this is a theme. More so, it has created a stereotype about the relationship between gender and grilled meat, regardless of the fact that we all eat it. As you can see from the above story, it’s misleading to say that souvlakia – and by extension, grilling meat – is a craft that excludes women. More importantly, it’s impossible to overgeneralise the point in relation to a national street food that you encounter wherever you go.

The stereotype that might still ring true at most of our family barbecues is not the whole story when it comes to souvlakia. As the world’s largest (/only) souvlaki-focused publication, we want to make sure we’re looking at the complex reality, rather than incorrect misconceptions or generalisations. Especially when the truth is that some of the best souvlakia we’ve ever had are the work of women. Since today, 8th February 2025, marks International Women’s Day, perhaps now’s a good time to celebrate that.

Women making souvlakia

Wherever you go, the truth is that you are, overall, more likely to find men ‘manning’ the grill in a souvlatzidiko. But this isn’t an overwhelming truth. There are times where I have gone for souvlakia to find that the only person in the kitchen – or sometimes in the whole stall or restaurant – is a lady; a souvlatzoú.

Word of the Day: Souvlatzou

In Brussels, Belgium (of all places), we found Mrs. Sofia from Evoia, making traditional souvlakia, at her stall in a Christmas market – in fact, probably the best kalamakia I’ve had outside of Greece. By herself entirely, she was cooking pork souvlakia from scratch over charcoal, taking orders and payments, and talking to customers. Likewise, in London, we also once walked into a souvlatzidiko on Green Lanes where one lady was running everything herself and, in New York, the Souvlaki Lady has, for decades, had locals queueing up for a taste of Greece in Astoria.

In Greece, the contributions of women are even harder to ignore. As an example, let’s go to my grandfather’s village in Greece: there are 2 tavernes opposite one another, and one kafeneio that makes souvlakia and tylichta (pita with souvlaki) in the evenings a few metres away. At the kafeneio, the tylichta are outrageously good, and it’s a group of girls who keep the show running. One of the tavernes is known as Koulla’s (named after Koulla), where you’ll find incredible souvlakia, taverna classics, and unforgettable handmade loukanika.

At Panos, opposite, you can look through the back to see an army of women running the grill and the kitchen. They make some of the best souvlakia, biftekia, pites and home-cooked classics that you’ll have anywhere (plus the best fried courgette chips). While the immense and physically-demanding grilling operation that takes over during special occasions like Easter might see a few men take up the surplus work, the image of a row of ladies standing over the grill, under the glow of the classic fluorescent lamp that looks like it’s also emitting a plume of smoke, is a lasting impression.

Crucially, these are places that don’t belong to an absent owner. The owners tend to be present, and they tend to have close and long-term ties with the people who keep it all running, i.e. the staff. There isn’t a larger pool of cheaper migrant labour to exploit. Instead, these village- and small town-establishments are run by the villagers and the locals themselves – often regardless of gender. There is less of a gender divide when it comes to work that, one way or another, people in small populations all have to do, whether agricultural or service-based. There are many girls who grow up helping out at their family’s establishment that way, and we have encountered many who remained in the industry because of it.

*Anna’s souvlaki at* Oi Rosides *in Athens.*

At Agatha’s in Winchmore Hill, London, George and Sue from Cyprus kept the name and sign of the takeaway business they inherited, added souvlakia and Greek Cypriot options to the menu, and continue to keep a glimpse of the past alive on Station Road. A factor of that decision being that Sue was already familiar with the reality of running a hospitality business: her father once ran a well-known Cypriot taverna in Camden.

That’s not to say that women enter the field simply because they are born or marry into it. Most restaurants in Greece are souvlatzidika and, equally, you’ll find souvlatzidika everywhere. Hence, it’s natural that souvlatzidika are a major source of work for those looking for it. In Greek cities too, it’s not uncommon to find women working there. Often, they come from neighbouring countries. Just as souvlaki is the accessible, affordable food of the masses, it also provides a livelihood for those moving countries in search of a better life.

Anna from Kazakhstan is known by many Athenians for her famous souvlaki with red salsa, and her moreish piroski. For that reason, Oi Rosides in Kallithea is one such example that couldn’t encapsulate the above point any better. Add to that the fact that Anna actually took on the shop from two ladies when they retired.

In London’s Tasty Gyros, known for its viral videos, it’s a lady called Giosilda who is the face of the shop and the socials. She also previously worked at the popular Gyros Aristotelous in Thessaloniki, where she is still popular among the staff.

*Giosilda at* Tasty Gyros in Enfield is a viral internet sensation. Photos by Souvlakination.

Elsewhere in Thessaloniki, you’ll find the legendary Snack Grill Express, standing since 1926. In his old age, you’re less likely to find Panagiotis there, who inherited the shop from his parents. You will, however, typically find his wife, Athina, running the shop with their son, Sakis. The role of wives and mothers in keeping family businesses consistent and open for so many years is fundamental. Never mind the calming and reassuring presence they tend to have on it.

No woman, no family

The reason why souvlakia are so good is because ordinary people make them; they are handmade and homemade. It’s a commonly-acknowledged fact of life amongst foodies, souvlaki addicts and food journalists that you cannot make souvlakia at scale, in factories, without having to compromise on quality. There are no two ways about it: handmade-in-house is better, fresher, tastier, juicer, leaves you feeling more satisfied and is also healthier than a product with a longer shelf-life that travelled from a factory further away.

Logically, it follows that independent, family-run souvlatzidika will in most cases produce a better, more satisfying product than larger-scale operations and business-oriented restaurants. And, without the mothers, sisters, aunts, and daughters of the family that give our family restaurants life and longevity, we would have fewer good souvlakia. If they aren’t by the grill, they are the faces of the shops, speaking with customers, taking and completing orders, and tying everything together.

There are countless cases throughout Greece, Cyprus, and abroad where man and wife run their souvlatzidiko side-by-side, even if, traditionally, the man’s name would have been cited and even if, in line with the stereotype, the husband oversees the grilling. But, if all it took to run a souvlatzidiko was a man with a grill, we’d all be running one.

Why are souvltzidika always named after men?

Multiple answers. First: they aren’t. Second: even without having to look at the data, they do tend to be. Third: the reasons for which that is the case are likely manifold and it wouldn’t be possible to answer that fairly here. It likely has something to do with the prevalence of traditional values in the 20th Century and their impact on the workforce and division of labour, paired with the ability of the independent businesses in Greece of that era to survive and carry the original names forward to the present day. Long story, basically. However, we also need to acknowledge that souvlatzidika aren’t always named after the person running the show. In other words, the name and the sign do not reflect the whole truth either. Let’s look inside.

Take Kostas of Syntagma, who inherited both his name and his souvlatzidiko (now at Fillelinon 7, Athens) from his grandfather. Although the souvlatzidiko is named and remembered after grandfather Kostas, and he himself known as Kosta’s grandson, the reality is that you’ll arrive to find him and his wife, Popi, running the shop together. And, because Kostas is busy cooking, his wife Popi tends to be the first smile that greets you as you walk in. Popi herself is busy serving customers and conducting takeaway and walk-in orders simultaneously. Anybody who has been to the shop knows this, but it’s important to remember that the name of a shop doesn’t always tell the whole story about the situation inside. (To any researchers or historians of the future reading this: do not use the names or signs of souvlatizidka as proxies in any gender-related studies.)

The aforementioned Rosides, the sign of which simply reads “Souvlaki - Piroski”, is testament to the point, as is another Athenian souvlatzidiko that got its name from its customers. Ta Koritsia, as it’s now known – ‘The Girls’ – is a name that locals gave to this souvlatzidiko in Koukaki, and for a reason. Although it was originally just titled Psitopoleio (a shop that sells grilled meat; ‘grill house’) when it first opened in 1976, the locals began to call it Ta Koritsia or Oi Gynaikes (aka ‘The Ladies’), after ‘the girls’ who ran the shop. Namely, the sisters: Katerina and Eleni. Although the shop changed ownership last year and Katerina left a while back, Mrs. Eleni remains the steady, reassuring pillar of this neighbourhood relic. You can read more about it in the Instagram post below.

In Cyprus, at the Kinigetiki Lesxi / Kinigetiko Syllogo in Limassol, Mary and her husband Lambros run one of the best local spots for souvlakia in the area. Although Lambros sporadically emerges from the grill to catch up with the regulars, Mary is the bold, warm and welcoming presence that greets you. So much so, that my family don’t refer to the souvlatzidiko by its name, but simply as Mary’s. The same is true of the widely-popular Aristos & Kiki in Mouttagiaka/Germasogeia, commonly referred to by locals as Kiki, which has a noticeable female presence in the shop. Moreover, it’s Mrs. Kiki who is to thank for the mouthwatering sheftalies (Cypriot pork meatballs wrapped in caul fat).

The first book about souvlaki ever

What people name shops and write on signs, we’ve established, are not the best indicators of the role of women when it comes to our favourite street food. But how about the first book that anyone has ever written about souvlaki? As of last month, there are technically two books about Greece’s national street food and pre-historic tradition. Marina Petridou, food editor at Gastronomos of Greece’s leading newspaper, Kathimerini, has co-written both of them.

Souvlaki: a gastronomic journey from Homer’s Epics to contemporary street food [Σουβλάκι. Ένα γαστρονομικό ταξίδι από τα ομηρικά έπη μέχρι το σύγχρονο street food] is a seminal tour de force and the first real detailed, in-depth account of a national street food that spans back to, at least, the 17th Century BC.

Marking 100 years since the first souvlatzidiko opened in Athens, the second book circulated with Kathimerini on Sunday 2nd February 2025 to incorporate more information, more testimonies and an extended list of where you can eat the best souvlakia in the capital. To get the job done, Marina says she visited at least 120 souvlatzidika. Her favourite? A homely souvlatzidiko in Korydallos where a daughter continues the tradition started by her father in 1972.

Not just the books in themselves, but the contents too are testament to the contributions made by women to Greece’s national street food. You’ll find a plethora of examples. Lilas, a souvlatizidiko that is named after the owner’s wife – who herself would make the red sauce that it was known for – and is now run by his daughter and grandchilden. Kyra-Pitsa, who, although no longer running, bears the incredible story of a lady who converted her house extension into a souvlatzidiko.

Likewise, in the first book Marina’s co-author, Tasos Brekoulakis, testifies: “Certainly, the best souvlaki I have eaten in my life was from the hands of Stathoula (legendary cook of my childhood years), who [would also wrap the souvlaki] and was the owner of the shop that was called Telis, which ran mainly during the summers, from late in the evening until the middle of the night.”

So… Do women make better souvlakia?

To answer the question in the title: you’d have to eat at every souvlatzidiko on earth and decide for yourself. It’s just as difficult as asking “is souvlaki/kalamaki better than gyros?”. While it’s impossible to answer, hopefully it’s a question that at least highlights an under-appreciated fact, which, no matter what the stats say, remains fact. Wherever you go, whether in Greece, Cyprus, or abroad, you will now find women at souvlatzidika and tavernes – not just answering the phone, serving customers, and taking orders, but also often running the entire place themselves. Increasingly, you will find them cooking the food and, as it turns out, they often make the best souvlakia you’ll ever have.

Without their contributions, we’d also lose countless family-run restaurants – the ones that always put quality and community first, keeping the dream of good souvlakia and real food alive. Where they are present, women seem to bring a calmness and a security that makes a souvlatzidiko feel more like a home. For those reasons, wherever and whenever you encounter the stereotype that souvlaki is only a man’s trade, use this piece to disprove it. Because the people who make perfect souvlakia that send you to another universe deserve to have their story told, and the history books ought to reflect that.

Women aren’t to be taken for granted, neither in our lives and our homes, nor at out favourite street food joints. None of it would function the same without them.

Are you a girl who’s reading this, wondering, ‘why hasn’t a girl written this piece?’.

If you’re interested in writing for Souvlakination or getting involved, you send an email to alex@souvlakination.com.

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Do women make the best souvlakia?