All Hail The Kebab Shop
Picture this: it is one in the morning and you have gorged yourself on 3 for £5 jagerbombs and an absurd amount of the local IPA. Finally stumbling out of the hallowed halls of Spoons, your stomach growls for something spicy and savoury, perhaps an absurd nightcap for the non-Brits among us. As you hike up the high street, breathless and ready for bed, you spot something out of the corner of your eye. Basked in a greasy, toxic light, it sings to you. You enter with confidence; the Turkish owner gives a toothy smile as he prepares your near-daily order of Shawarma and Chips, with the theme tune of James Bond (always and exclusively Bond) playing softly in the background. You have found it again, the holy grail for hungry school children, drunken nights out and the homeless; The Kebab Shop.
With over 17,000 Kebab shops across the UK, it is now widely considered the epitome of modern British society. The proliferation of the Kebab shop, however, begs an important question; how has a Turkish delicacy become ubiquitous in a very English society?
Whilst McDonalds was invading the towns and prairies of the USA, the UK was also seeking a cheap, fast and easy meal alternative that fit its own flavours. Now, don’t misunderstand, McDonalds is a staple of the British diet at this point as well. But, it is not the meal of choice for labourers and midnight snackers alike, at any and all times of the day. The reason why the Doner Kebab spread much quicker than American fast food was because it appealed to the British gusto. Growing up on diets mostly comprised of meat and bread, Kebabs take these basic ingredients and magnifies them. The mouth-watering melange of Greek yogurt, spiced lamb, crispy tomatoes, fresh cumin, pungent garlic and the lusciously soft Pita bread is incomprehensibly tasty to the English palate, lighting up more taste-buds than a simple Big Mac could ever aspire to. With each genius shop owner creating their own Kebabs (the ingredients vary vastly from shop to shop), the Kebab is an individualistic representation of the British appetite.
Furthermore, the Big Mac just doesn’t have the same element of rebellion. Brought over by migrants in the mid 1930s, the traditional Turkish meal is a testament to immigrant’s ability to flourish in new countries, especially in the stiff-upper lip ambience in Britain. In some ways, I believe us Brits pick the Kebab shop because it indulges our desire to break class hierarchies. The Kebab is a symbol of multiculturalism, the triumph of cultural exchange over ethno-nationalism. By picking to eat a kebab after a night out, we choose to support tens of thousands (very charming) independent international food sellers, rather than the monopoly of a globe-spanning food conglomerate. Thus, the humble Kebab unites both newcomers and native eaters, rebelling against the homogenous-society campaign of Boris Johnson and his cronies. Essentially, the Kebab Shop allows us to break the social pecking order without outright declaring it- in some ways, a very James Bond-esque manoeuvre.
To put it simply, “the kebab shop is the light that never goes out” (Georgia Bronte at the British Kebab Awards in 2018- she is completely unrelated the the author sister-duo). Despite being proof of rampant Islamisation for some, the Kebab Shop will remain a culinary representation of multiculturalism and individualism, steadfast in the streets and stomachs of the British public.
