You would think that the unifying force across Europe's many national boundaries is the sense that a united and cooperative Europe is stronger than a divided one. Institutions such as the European Union and efforts such as the concerted response to the Eurozone crisis serve to support this view. But, and I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, you'd be completely and kind of embarrasingly wrong.
It turns out that the one thing europeans rely on to keep them together involves 100 kilograms of dead chicken and a questionable approach to food safety. The humble Kebab, although referred to by different names (Kebap, kebab, gyros, doner, pita, durum and shawarma to name a few) is widely, and sometimes cheaply, available throughout the continent - much to the joy of carnivores and vegetable-a-phobes alike. The fact that one can munch on rotisserie cooked meat basted in its own drippings from Helsinki to Ankara is, as far as my reasoning stretches, the sole reason for the peace, stability and prosperity in Europe since World War II. After all, you can't go to war against people who eat the same food as you. And familiar food increases the effectiveness of cross border exchanges which facilitates understanding and peace. Think about it.
Sitting here in Copenhagen on my last full day in continental Europe, with the aroma of garlic and chicken still on my fingers, I decided to give these humble peacekeepers the credit they deserve - and review the kebabs I ate in various cities on my travels. I ate so many kebabs that the most practical way to structure the review is on a city-by-city basis; reviewing each individual kebab would probably take the remainder of the century. Also its low on pictures because my iphone was stolen a few days ago - perhaps staying in the cheapest hostel in Copenhagen (at a lazy AUD30 per night for a 66 bed dorm) wasn't the brightest idea but neither was surviving solely on kebabs for 6 weeks and counting.
Istanbul, Turkey (Local name: kebap, Price: TRY2 / AUD1.20, One star)
Brace yourself. The worst kebabs I have ever eaten were in Turkey, the spiritual home of the kebab. The kebabs were consistently dry (the Turks have never heard of sauce?), light on meat and frequently completely devoid of taste. I have eaten polystyrene with more flavour. How that happened is another story. It was as perplexing as it was frustrating - nobody seemed to notice.
Brasov, Romania (Local name: shawarma, Price: RON12 / AUD3.5, Three stars)
What Romanian kebabs lacked in meat quality, they more than made up for in sauce quantity and size. In addition to the usual garlic sauce, the moisture content reached stratospheric levels with the addition of spicy sauce, salsa and wet salad. Luckily the kebab was packaged in a plastic bag, leaving us with a convenient package of grease to hurl at passing strangers. Brooke and I were only able to finish the smallest incarnation, the size of kebabs commonly found in Australia. The largest option was literally the size of my head.
Budapest, Hungary: No kebabs here, just vegan Indian food. What of it?
It turns out that the one thing europeans rely on to keep them together involves 100 kilograms of dead chicken and a questionable approach to food safety. The humble Kebab, although referred to by different names (Kebap, kebab, gyros, doner, pita, durum and shawarma to name a few) is widely, and sometimes cheaply, available throughout the continent - much to the joy of carnivores and vegetable-a-phobes alike. The fact that one can munch on rotisserie cooked meat basted in its own drippings from Helsinki to Ankara is, as far as my reasoning stretches, the sole reason for the peace, stability and prosperity in Europe since World War II. After all, you can't go to war against people who eat the same food as you. And familiar food increases the effectiveness of cross border exchanges which facilitates understanding and peace. Think about it.
Sitting here in Copenhagen on my last full day in continental Europe, with the aroma of garlic and chicken still on my fingers, I decided to give these humble peacekeepers the credit they deserve - and review the kebabs I ate in various cities on my travels. I ate so many kebabs that the most practical way to structure the review is on a city-by-city basis; reviewing each individual kebab would probably take the remainder of the century. Also its low on pictures because my iphone was stolen a few days ago - perhaps staying in the cheapest hostel in Copenhagen (at a lazy AUD30 per night for a 66 bed dorm) wasn't the brightest idea but neither was surviving solely on kebabs for 6 weeks and counting.
Istanbul, Turkey (Local name: kebap, Price: TRY2 / AUD1.20, One star)
Brace yourself. The worst kebabs I have ever eaten were in Turkey, the spiritual home of the kebab. The kebabs were consistently dry (the Turks have never heard of sauce?), light on meat and frequently completely devoid of taste. I have eaten polystyrene with more flavour. How that happened is another story. It was as perplexing as it was frustrating - nobody seemed to notice.
Brasov, Romania (Local name: shawarma, Price: RON12 / AUD3.5, Three stars)
What Romanian kebabs lacked in meat quality, they more than made up for in sauce quantity and size. In addition to the usual garlic sauce, the moisture content reached stratospheric levels with the addition of spicy sauce, salsa and wet salad. Luckily the kebab was packaged in a plastic bag, leaving us with a convenient package of grease to hurl at passing strangers. Brooke and I were only able to finish the smallest incarnation, the size of kebabs commonly found in Australia. The largest option was literally the size of my head.
Budapest, Hungary: No kebabs here, just vegan Indian food. What of it?
Krakow, Poland (Local name: shawarma, Price: PLN10 / AUD4, Four stars)
I thought Poland was pretty much as good as life gets. With respect to kebabs, that is. Pronouncability of language, thats another story. Anyway, the numerous kebabs I ate in krakow were of the open-faced variety (see Berlin, Germany below) and so crammed with fillings that they were invariably served with a fork stuck in them. After some 15 minutes of attacking the monstrosity with said fork, one could press the kebab together and eat it the more conventional way.
Our kebab consumption would have been significantly higher if it weren't for the Polish Zappiekanka- cheese toast on a baguette with mushrooms and whatever else was on sale that day.
Brussels, Belgium: No kebabs, but abuse of arteries undertaken by other means. Belgian chips almost make up for the country being the most boring in Europe.
Berlin, Germany (Local name: doner, Price: EUR3.5 / AUD5, Five stars)
You think the Germans are most famous for their efficiency? Work ethic? Ability to bail out failed states? You're dead wrong. Again. Sensing a trend here. But I digress, Berlin's claim to fame, despite heaps of museums and culture and shit is without a doubt, kebabs. Succulent meat, liberal amounts of perfectly balanced garlic and yoghourt sauce, fresh salad and optional CURRY SAUCE?! This city is kebab heaven. The early-rising sun means that you also save energy by eating your 4.30am kebab in broad daylight. Environment win.
Copenhagen, Denmark (Local name: durum, Price: DKK35 / AUD7, Two stars)
This is when the situation starts to go to hell. Not only are kebabs ridiculously expensive here, like everything else to be fair, but they are of such abominable quality that I actually sat at my table and cried bitter tears a few days ago. They are just ... shit. The sauce is just yoghourt, they have way too much salad and they DONT EVEN TOAST THE BREAD. What's the point really?
Stockholm, Sweden (Local name: kebab, Price: SEK49 / AUD7, One star)
Funnily enough, the low point of my kebab adventure was at my highest geographic point in Europe. Stockholm is a fantastic city but late night food is not its strong suit. As my gracious host Elliot (of Cambodia fame) explained,'Your options are either McDonalds or kebabs. And most people choose McDonalds.' This I refused to believe. Until we actually ate a Stockholm kebab. I should have known that something was us- it took all of 12 seconds to make. Turns out the meat is kept (luke) warm in a rice cooker after being shaved off the rotisserie. And, believe it or not, it gets worse from here. Too much tomato, saturated lettuce and a ridiculous width to length ratio which made it impossible to bite without covering your entire face in sauce - which, again, was just yoghourt. I ate in stony silence, seriously pissed off that Stockholm - the most perfect place on earth - had failed at this most integral of foodstuffs.
There were ups, there were downs, but thankfully, there were no stomach issues. And given what a kebab actually is, that is truly the greatest win of all.
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