So ... there's this new little stand about a block away from my office. A shiny metal cube. A couple of guys who are doing their best to whip up interest. They were even giving away free baklava for your first visit. Too bad I was in "dieting mode" that day.
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A little back story: I LOVE TURKISH KEBABS. In Germany, there was this whole Turkish subculture -- I'm guessing it's (by far) the biggest minority ethnic group in Germany -- and thus, many Doner Kebap stands flourished. And I LOVED them.
I don't know what they put in those kebabs -- rumors were wild and plentiful on that front -- but I also didn't care. I was totally hooked. The sauce! The meat! And it was a relatively cheap sandwich (about $4) you could grab and go. Ohhh man.
To make matters better -- or worse, depending on your perspective -- a Turkish guy set up a stand on the back road that led from my German motel to the Stars and Stripes where I walked, back and forth, every day. Since I had to pack a lunch/dinner with me each day (noon to 8 p.m. shift), this led to me having probably a kebab a week or so. Mmmmmm.
My kebab-buying tendencies (at that stand) slackened when the guy started taking a keen interest in me. He didn't know much English (we were in Germany, after all), and I knew very little German and zero Turkish, but he managed to ask me out on a date one day. I found that puzzling, seeing as how his wife occasionally ran the stand, often accompanied by her young (infant/toddler) son.
"Oh, in Turkey, we can have as many as five wives!" he said. Well, he didn't say it quite that articulately. But that was his point.
After that, I had fewer kebabs on my way to work.
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Back to the original story. So I was a little excited to see this kebab stand appear near my office. Woo! Kebabs!! And maybe with no side of second-wife suggestion. (no guarantees there; it is, after all, a city. Weird things happen on these streets between strangers.)
So, one day, I go to the stand and get a "kebab." Very disappointing -- the meat was rather dry (they were out of cucumber sauce), and was merely chicken, not whatever meat mashup they usually have roasting on the vertical spit at good kebab places.
Hm, think I. Well ... maybe I'll try hummus one day, if I'm feeling like eating light. I loooove hummus!
A few weeks later, I return. It's raining, and I'm glad the stand is relatively close to my workplace. (I lived in Seattle -- I don't need no stinkin' coat or umbrella!) The guy is excited to have a customer. He asks what I want.
When I say "Hummus", his face falls. "Oh," he says. "Well, we don't really have that today." (bad sign when they don't have something both times you've tried a place, I mentally note.) "Well, we do, but ... it'll be a half hour or so." "Oh?" I say. "Welll, maybe more like 10 minutes!" he says brightly. "My business partner had to run an errand, and the hummus is in the car."
The CAR?!!?!
Thus ends my interest in the shiny new kebab stand.
------------------
A little back story: I LOVE TURKISH KEBABS. In Germany, there was this whole Turkish subculture -- I'm guessing it's (by far) the biggest minority ethnic group in Germany -- and thus, many Doner Kebap stands flourished. And I LOVED them.
I don't know what they put in those kebabs -- rumors were wild and plentiful on that front -- but I also didn't care. I was totally hooked. The sauce! The meat! And it was a relatively cheap sandwich (about $4) you could grab and go. Ohhh man.
To make matters better -- or worse, depending on your perspective -- a Turkish guy set up a stand on the back road that led from my German motel to the Stars and Stripes where I walked, back and forth, every day. Since I had to pack a lunch/dinner with me each day (noon to 8 p.m. shift), this led to me having probably a kebab a week or so. Mmmmmm.
My kebab-buying tendencies (at that stand) slackened when the guy started taking a keen interest in me. He didn't know much English (we were in Germany, after all), and I knew very little German and zero Turkish, but he managed to ask me out on a date one day. I found that puzzling, seeing as how his wife occasionally ran the stand, often accompanied by her young (infant/toddler) son.
"Oh, in Turkey, we can have as many as five wives!" he said. Well, he didn't say it quite that articulately. But that was his point.
After that, I had fewer kebabs on my way to work.
--------------------
Back to the original story. So I was a little excited to see this kebab stand appear near my office. Woo! Kebabs!! And maybe with no side of second-wife suggestion. (no guarantees there; it is, after all, a city. Weird things happen on these streets between strangers.)
So, one day, I go to the stand and get a "kebab." Very disappointing -- the meat was rather dry (they were out of cucumber sauce), and was merely chicken, not whatever meat mashup they usually have roasting on the vertical spit at good kebab places.
Hm, think I. Well ... maybe I'll try hummus one day, if I'm feeling like eating light. I loooove hummus!
A few weeks later, I return. It's raining, and I'm glad the stand is relatively close to my workplace. (I lived in Seattle -- I don't need no stinkin' coat or umbrella!) The guy is excited to have a customer. He asks what I want.
When I say "Hummus", his face falls. "Oh," he says. "Well, we don't really have that today." (bad sign when they don't have something both times you've tried a place, I mentally note.) "Well, we do, but ... it'll be a half hour or so." "Oh?" I say. "Welll, maybe more like 10 minutes!" he says brightly. "My business partner had to run an errand, and the hummus is in the car."
The CAR?!!?!
Thus ends my interest in the shiny new kebab stand.
I guess in germany it's kebab with a side of second wife, and in DC it's hummus with a side of samonella.
ReplyDeleteIn the car on its way back from the Harris Teeter?
ReplyDelete