Patrikio’s: Why? Because it’s There!
Off I-435 and Holmes in Kansas City, Missouri there sits a non-descript brick building. It squats next to a fire station, across the street from Gomer’s Chicken and Liquor (that’s two stores, not one…) and bears a distinctly Greek name: Patrikio’s.
However, this plain, Greek-sounding exterior hides something entirely different. Something that must be experienced to truly understand. For when you step into Patrikio’s, you are catapulted back to the 1950s and into an Italian restaurant fit for the Godfather…the glass candle holders, the dark, smoky bar, the overly large coat area.
To add to the unique ambiance of Patrikio’s, as you are escorted to your seat by the same hostess who has been the seater ever since I started eating there, you pass by an All-You-Can-Eat Mexican buffet filled with enchiladas (cheese, pork, chicken, or ground beef), refried beans, Spanish rice, taco toppings, and hard corn shells. The taco sauce, which comes in mild and slightly less mild, sits in two silver containers in the back. Tortilla chips are self-serve.
Further adding to the charm that is Patrikio’s is the fact I am positive that the food, especially the Spanish rice and refried beans, are the same Old El Paso brand that you find in the yellow cans at your grocery store. To go one better, the taco meat and the enchiladas are laden with grease.
Even stranger perhaps is that every time I go, there are usually only 3-5 tables with customers (though on two occasions the place was at least half full.) At night, there are no cars to be seen.
Still, despite everything, you probably noticed that I used the phrase “ever since I started eating there” and “every time I go.” Despite everything that makes Patrikio’s notable, we go once a month, maybe once every six week, pile our plates high full of food, chow down and then repeat at least twice more. We only go when we’re hungry because there’s just something about the place that requires overeating.
And when we leave, we groan because our stomachs are full and our hands greasy. We wonder why we thought it would be a good idea to go and decide we should never go again.
And then in six weeks we come back, hungry for greasy Mexican food at the place with the Greek name. We get sat by the hostess, who smiles in a way that ensures we won’t say much more than what we want to drink, and then we attack the buffet with gusto.
So, what are you waiting for? Go…eat at Patrikio’s! Why?
Because it’s Patrikio’s. Because it’s different. Because it’s there.
