The Kebab House – 6, St Michael’s Hill, Bristol

A real treat, avid readers. A guest review! From my esteemed friend (and closet kebab fan) William aka Billy. Enjoy. I welcome further contributions, please mail to the (hastily created) kebablog@googlemail.com.

The Kebab House – 6, St Michael’s Hill, Bristol

All at once I was upon it; the chilli mist stinging my eyes as it mingled with the sweat from my all-to-eager stride home. One piece… two pieces… ten pieces even – I lost count of the number that were wasted on me in my initial thirst for lamb. I got a grip and sat back. This is no way to enjoy a kebab, I had to tell myself. It occurred that many a mediocre pitta must have passed my lips un-rebuked in this common state of over-excitement. Reviewing a kebab is much different from merely ‘doing’ a kebab. The level of attention and insight is far higher – necessarily – but in some ways this contemplation dilutes the visceral thrill of being ‘in the moment’, man and lamb, alone together for a brief few minutes; interrupted only by the few melancholic pauses as the end nears – and of course the odd fork broken in sheer excitement.

In homage to a true review then I should start right at the beginning of my experience: the decision. It wasn’t a tough one, as we stared in through the unfamiliar window it became clear that this was the place to go. It was new to me – a small Greek restaurant at the bottom of St Michael’s hill – but it looked warm, authentic, and to top it all it was right in front of us. Now I should stress here that this is not a ‘kebab shop’ in the sense that is immediately called to mind when you hear the phrase. It was for the most part restaurant, with a small counter in the foyer that served take-out on the side (and presumably also provided the various kebabs for the eat-in customers). I chose a lamb Shish – it didn’t seem right, somehow, to order a Doner in such a cultured location – and we waited as the meat sizzled slowly towards tenderness. We entertained ourselves by discussing these new surroundings (marvelling sheepishly that such a gem had remained unknown for so long), and by scouring the restaurant menu to see what more this emporium had to offer a customer that was lucky enough to find themselves at a table.

As it neared completion, the chef (and I think owner) sprang back into life and began to prepare our pittas. “Salad and sauce?” The familiar cry didn’t hint at the revolution that was to follow: “naturally”, I replied, and waited to be asked which of the range of sauces I would like to compliment my meal. This did not happen. Before I could gather my thoughts the chef appeared to choose for me, and deftly applied some chilli sauce and a brief squirt of what I now understand to be lemon juice. About to protest, it quickly dawned that this was not through some mad presumption on his part – there was no other choice, the only choice had been the answer to that first question: “salad and sauce?” My mind reeled, horrible thoughts of a mayonnaise-less kebab were swimming through my confused head. I countered weakly, and accepted the warm package that was handed to me before we hurried out the door to tuck in.

I must admit, at first I was not optimistic. I am accustomed to large quantities of sauce being an integral part of the kebab experience. However we talked it out on the brief walk back and concluded that if nothing else it would be a king amongst kebabs in terms of health, and that a kebab that was prepared in this way deliberately was worthy of a chance. As it turns out it didn’t even need a chance – it wasn’t down to luck or fortune. That Shish kebab was fantastic, and the chef had always known it would be. It tasted good, and it felt good for me. There was a decent amount of meat and the salad still had a freshness to it that so many others have failed to retain. The salad was simple, but plentiful; the meet tasty, and cooked professionally; whilst the chilli sauce packed a bit of a punch but was mediated subtly by the dash of lemon that now made so much sense to me. I feel, however, that what finally secured it for me – and left me hopelessly enamoured by this new experience – was its manageability. Bereft of needless ladles of sauce the pitta maintained its consistency throughout the meal. I could eat it all with my hands and yet did not once wish for a napkin. Imagine this, just for one second; if you can.

We both finished our meals in relative silence, stunned I think by what was occurring. I was full but not nauseous; energetic even. We contemplated a second but the stigma I think might have been too much. To admit addiction not ten minutes after the first purchase would have surely placed the ball too firmly in the chef’s court, and left him free to jack up the prices as we came crawling back for more – unable to resist, turning to crime to fund a life that I had not chosen. Forever in his pocket.

Needless to say, however, we have been back.

I some ways it has made me feel rather cheated. The pounds that I had loyally invested in kebabs throughout previous years might have been saved if I had only realised sooner that in comparison to this – this humble and simple concoction – the ‘taste sensation’ of the more sauce-heavy kebabs could be replicated with a big jar of garlic mayonnaise and a spoon. I wonder occasionally whether it was worth it. When I find myself kebabbing farther afield, and this experience is beyond my reach, I poke moodily sometimes at the white-crested strips of Doner and think of the times when this was still the height of my kebab experience. I remember when more sauce meant better – when the mayo, chilli, and mint mix made so much more sense and I would have laughed at a less saucy offering. I consider, often, whether it would have been better never to have known. The experience of that little St Michael’s hill palace is such a rare one, and so hard to find elsewhere, that I feel cursed sometimes that every other kebab must take a reluctant step down, and I must acknowledge that things will never be the same.

Is ignorance bliss? No. Ignorance is ignorance; and you would do well to let your plastic fork splash back into your saucy illusion and go get yourself a real kebab.

Kebab Doldrums; Indian Fast Food

I am feeling disillusioned with kebab literature. I shall admit that I have had at least two perfectly delicious kebabs since my last post, the Grecian and Effe's, but not felt suitably inspired to write about them. They were delicious, and I could probably dream up an amusing anecdote based around the procurement of them, but that spark has just been missing. It is for this reason that I feel I am compelled to reinvigorate my bloggings by reviewing an Indian takeaway that is very dear to my heart: Indian Fast Food.

Yes. They are called "Indian Fast Food". Plain and simple - you know you are getting Indian food. Reasonably fast. What strikes most people about it, and I shall be honest here, is that it looks pretty ropey. Wedged unceremoniously between a Doc Marten boot shop and the Cat and Wheel pub, the interior appears dark and unwelcoming, the walls unadorned with the sterotypical flock wallpaper and garish imagery. It smells a bit bleachy. Couple this with the no-nonsense name and it just doesn't draw the eye; having said this it is often fairly busy even on quiet weekday evenings.

Upon entering you are met with what seems more like a cheap breakfast cafe, the framed print on the wall of a bridge in Bangladesh over a murky river the only clue as to the delights the kitchen holds. The staff are very friendly indeed, over time and repeated visits they have started asking If I am well or commented on the weather which is a lovely touch.

Their menu scans well, with the usual array of anglo-Indian cuisine: Tikka Masala, Bhuna, Jalfrezi, Madras, Vindaloo et at. The main unusual aspect is twofold: the choice of meats and the price. The choice of meat is simple, mutton or chicken and they range from £3.50 for a basic curry to only £4.75 or so for a Tikka Masala. Mutton in 2009 I hear you cry! If anything they are ahead of their time, celebrity chefs are wholeheartedly endorsing mutton, in this case its chunky texture and strong flavour and texture works incredibly well with curry. I certainly consider nothing else.

A standard order for two reads as follows: Chicken Tikka Masala, Mutton Jalfrezi, Saag Aloo, Pilau Rice, Naan Bread, 2 Popadoms, Mango Chutney, Chips. This comes to an incredible £16, and feeds us admirably. The dishes themselves are plentiful for the price, no skimping on meat, although at times they can be a touch greasy (I blame this on a rogue chef, I just pour the oil off). The only issue, as with all curries, is the 4am gut cramps and associated increase in morning "visits" required. Don't let this put you off, this is an incredibly fine curry house that stands up well to its more expensive (and hyped up) neighbours. Oh Calcutta is overpriced, has gimmicky specials and is staffed by Brits; Sheesh Mahal is basically a standard 1970s curry house without the prices to match. Their trout dishes are nice, mind.

Part of the inspiration for this review is as a tribute - they are moving across the road to the site of the old "Wonderful" Chinese restaurant. (Ironically it was anything but). I truly hope they keep their unique character, their cheap prices and choice of mutton or chicken. If they fail to do this, then I shall be truly devastated.

Sober Grecian

I have just had the pleasure of having a small doner from the Grecian - quite sober due to a mix-up in eating arrangements. I wandered over and it was still light outside! The lamb shish was seriously considered, it is the same price as the standard doner and the chunks were sat waiting in the fridge, looking juicy and tempting.

I went for a small doner, with lettuce and cucumber. The elephant leg looked supremely juicy and the person before me had ordered two large doners, so the fresh unexposed layer underneath was yet more increased in intensity and was oozy and tender. With my new found clarity in thinking, I added carrot and tomato from their extensive salad bar - a wise choice. The tomato added bursts of freshness; the carrot added padding and a crisp note that cabbage often fills - but without the dry bitter tang. It came wrapped, but with no crudely fashioned pouch in the paper so it fell apart quite badly. In fact, coupled with a poorly opened pitta I was seriously debating taking it back and demanding how they propose I could eat the thing.


The left hand side wrapped up into a wonderful sandwich however, I was very satisfied indeed in the end.

I end on a sad note. On walking back I passed the Arches, the young pretender preparing for a busy night. We only made fleeting eye contact, but I could sense the sadness in his eyes - I was clearly clutching a rival's kebab. I walked passed Effes and they didn't even look up. Therein lies the difference between the two, and why I shall always love the Arches.

The Arches, Again

I tried to stop myself: I toyed with the idea of Ritas again, even wandering to M&Ms on Whiteladies Road; but the fact my flat is situated about 200 yards from three fine kebab establishments meant the only real consideration was Efes, Arches or Grecian?

I initially thought Efes, but their elephant leg more closely resembled a stray dog leg so I marched on. I passed the Arches on the opposite side of the street and could see the young pretender at work at a plump, juicy looking doner. I finally arrived at the Grecian as it started to drizzle, a warm charcoal grill and surly welcome was just what I needed - but their doner was pale, thin and unnappealing. I went to the Arches.

Slightly moist (in more ways than one), I ordered a small doner. This is where it gets interesting: I pretended to fiddle with my camera, turned the flash off and got a couple of photographs of the kebab skewer and the Young Pretender at work! - A genuine scoop, exclusive to kebablog.



Expertly shaving the kebab there. And here is the finished product, note the patch of grease that seeped out of the polystyrene and through several sheets of paper.

*due to technical problems, this picture cannot currently be displayed. It depicts a small doner with cucumber, lettuce and garlic sauce*

The flesh was darker than usual, deep and rich in lamby flavour. I also believe they must have changed their pitta provider as the last couple of Arches kebabs have had decicious, soft bread rather than the hard tasteless ones of old. Or maybe they are just avoiding overgrilling them, this does seem to tie in with the dissapearance of Perfectstubble. Coincidence? I think not. I do have a criticism of their garlic sauce, it was far too thick - definitely a mayo rather than a sauce. it becomes sickly and cloying, it creates dense masses of garlicky salad rather than acting as a binding agent to tie the disparate parts of the snack together.

Just a short note about last week's kebab, apparently I said "love you, bye!" to the server in the Grecian. Not a lot else to say about that really - but I feel I was expressing my genuine emotions at the time and I shall never apologise for that.

Review - Rita's, Stokes Croft

After an evening of refreshments, we were traipsing wearily back to go to the Arches or Effes, but something drew me towards Ritas - so we did a complete U-turn and marched a good 300-400 yards back down the road to go to this fine establishment. It suffers from being situated in Stokes Croft, the quality of the other establishments there leave much to be desired, plus for some reason I had always assumed it was a Carribean takeaway of sorts: a large lady called Rita at the helm serving up curry goat and dumplings; the reality dissapointed me. Instead of this homely scene, it houses two enourmous top-heavy skewers (indicating hand-carving, a significant plus however) and an army of 6 or 7 sweaty reasonably surly men. When I say sweaty, they were dripping with visible beads of sweat, trickling slowly down their brows. We ordered a small doner, a burger (for the ladyfriend) and chips. A battered sausage was also hastily added, quite pointlessly, to the order as it looked appealing sitting in the warming tray. God himself only knows why. Immediately I was confused - as a kebab eater, I was hurried towards the far end where salad and sauce was applied. This left my companion stranded - did we wait for the burger separately or would they let us know? They should make it far more clear.

I was about third in line. I like it this way, you get to see the whole process unfold but not so many times that it becomes dull and repetetive. The two gents in front of me were quite amusing, they seemed to have an odd bravado that only revealed itself when adding salad. "Yeah, pile it on mate, loads of onions and lettuce". They ended up with a ridiculous mountain of useless veg, how foolhardy. I ordered lettuce and garlic sauce (no cucumber, this has happenned before and it was OK, so I wasn't overly upset). This was skilfully wrapped - I like it like this rather than in a standard issue polystyrene box - they put a sweet little greaseproof paper circle on top and wrapped it up like a parcel.

We hurried home. The kebab was delightful, they didn't fall into the trap that the Grecian did with the hand-carving as the strips were slender and juicy. The lettuce was very finely sliced indeed, and watery to boot which combined with the sauce into what resembled creamed leeks or similar - this actually complemented it quite nicely. The pitta was opened in an unusual fashion, a slice in the centre of the oval which meant it essentially became a plate rather than a sandwich - I suppose their thinking is you can have fun stuffing the meat into it. I certainly did. I didn't actually finish the kebab, but that was more due to the contraints of the drinking than anything else. Although on reflection I did have a side order of chips. This I decided was a pointless addition to a kebab experience, I shall not do this in future.

At this point I might point out that I did have an Arches kebab a week before this. It was so lacklustre, so bog standardly delicious that I felt it warranted only a footnote. It was quickly and impeccably constructed by the young pretender - I even finished it. The pitta was soft, the meat was melt in the mouth and melded beautifully with the garlic sauce, lettuce and cucumber. Dissapointingly fantastic.

Another Weekend, Another Kebab.

Before I embark upon this week's review, an apology for my absence last week - I was out of the country. I was taking a sojourn in the wonderful town of Barcelona , so a weekend of fresh seafood, tapas and paella was ahead - not a skewer of lamb in sight. A break, a fresh start.

I braced myself for this, but what did I see upon my weary arrival? On a side street off La Rambla, several doors down from our Hotel? A charming little place called A La Turca - you can guess what they served (you will have to guess, as sheer unparallelled levels of surliness put me off even attempting a picture). They housed a gargantuan, oozing elephant leg and a ropey looking chicken thing with crispy edges! The incredible thing is, during the rest of the stay I don't believe we saw another place like it - it is almost as if they knew. I didn't go as far as trying one however as the risk of food poisoning was very high, especially as it looked suspiciously like the same skewer was in place over the whole duration of our stay. This was further exacerbated by the strange red ooze dripping from the kebab and that I didn't know the Catalan for lettuce, cucumber or garlic sauce. Fate is a wonderful thing, it draws kebabs close but it also cruelly takes them away.

More recently, after a pub session, it was decided to try the Grecian again. I must admit I was trembling with excitement - as you may recall I was particularly enamoured with their small doner a while back, and there was simply no other alternative in my mind. The reality came crashing down around me as I walked in. Contemplating the menu, I was hoping for a slice of the expensive delicatessen treatment I had been witness to before; instead the server rapped his knuckles on the counter: "next please, next please". I had in mind to discuss the lamb shish, but hurried by this I ordered a small doner as before - what could go wrong? It was so good before. Again the salad selection was wonderful, no problems with the sauce, nice open soft pitta and rusticly hand sliced lamb. I couldn't help but be slightly dissapointed by the meat - it was so thick in places that it resembled the texture of spam. To top it off, I allowed my girlfriend to have a bite post-sandwich*, the result was almost broken in half due to the cherry picking of the juiciest looking part.

For the first time in about a month I craved the crispy, chewy slices of the Arches and the Young Pretender's delightful charms and ruthless efficiency. I longed to admire perfectstubble's impeccable stubble (although he hasn't been around recently - do get in touch if you see him). I missed the hubbub and intrigue of the pizza station with their myriad bickering staff - all missing from the Grecian in selfish search of the elusive "perfect" Kebab. Maybe next week.

Tip - let noone touch your kebab post-sandwich*; it often results in it being slighly more difficult to eat.

*post-sandwich is the second stage of kebab eating - once you have finished ineptly forking up the long ribbons of meat and you can form the pitta and contents into a sandwich.

The Weekend of Pseudo-kebabs

I have often pondered the fundamental question, the meaning of life: what is a kebab? This weekend challenged the very concept; the very nature of a kebab.


First up is Magic Roll. This is a quirky Bristol staple: it makes reasonably cheap, tasty wraps stuffed full of fillings - meat or veg with salad. I had the wrap which contained grilled lamb (obviously) along with olives, chorizo and probably some other stuff too. There was no option to request lettuce, cucumber and a weak garlicy sauce, but I trusted their combination to satisfy. It did, although I would stress that this is a pseudo-kebab: so I put up with non-standard ingredients and to be honest fairly bland meat patties, and the whole unit was a juicy, flavourful feast all round. My other half had a wrap containing chicken - this went down OK but there was too much cabbage and not enough flavour. Which is why you should always trust lamb.


Friday and Saturday night passed without any elephant leg action whatsoever, but a traditional Sunday roast dinner was on the cards at the Jolly Sailor in Saltford. We had been before so knew what to expect - a charming riverside location with ample outdoor seating. We ordered lamb roasts and waited. Waited for about an hour, with looming dark clouds coming and going: taunting us. It arrived and it was wonderful - soft meat, not too fatty, crispy roast potatoes, a yorkshire (extra 50p we later discovered. Not too happy as this was a freeby with the beef but they had run out), and separate cauli cheese and veg. While eating, I snuck a slice of lamb into the soggy yorkshire, added a couple of green beans and some cheese sauce. What had I just created? A kebab. A kebab without crippling morning stomach cramps, acid reflux and a feeling of inner sadness. Wonderful.

So I finally have an answer to the eternal question: what is a kebab? Cornish Pasty? Kebab: suspect meat, potato and turnip salad in a pastry pitta. Sunday Roast? Kebab. Full English Breakfast? Slap it between two slices of toast and you have a pork kebab with an egg-yolk and ketchup sauce. To sum up, a kebab is whatever you want it to be. A kebab is your hopes and dreams, loves and losses, some form of meat (or vegetable) wrapped in some form of carbohydrate. In fact, the carbohydrate is not strictly neccesary.

Tip of the day - always choose lamb as chicken is sometimes slightly dissapointing.

Proper, unbiased review - The Grecian, Gloucester Road, Bristol

You may have seen a previous guide to this Gloucester Rd staple; bemoaning the surly staff, opening hours and substandard salad. What follows is an unbiased, open review of a standard doner kebab - with garlicsaucelettucecucumber.

The evening began well - several drinks in a local hostelry and another drink in another local. Nothing spectacular but a good solid time was had by all. I was peckish - only a kebab would suffice. I had only two options: a non-standard kebab (shish, kofte as promised in a previous post) from the Arches, or a doner from the Grecian. I entered the Arches full of hope - there was a queue however and the staff were unfamiliar to me - no perfectstubble or Young Pretender and shavedsides was too absorbed in his mobile phone to care. Disregarding those around me (awaiting lesser snacks such as pizzas), I rushed to the Grecian.

I have never been so happy with such a decision in my entire life. As I entered, a couple were tasting a small sample of the chicken kebab as if it was a high-class cheese and olive emporium. I instantly felt welcome and as if I was in a kebab boutique. The elephant leg, as always, looked juicy and rustic with their large knife poised ready to slice. I have never seen such a wonderful assortment of salad - forget the homogenous mix of vinegary mulch of before, this was a smorgasbord of carrot, lettuce, cabbage and diced (not sliced) cucumber. I ordered a small doner, this was expertly sliced and wrapped in paper - a nice touch in a road which favours polystyrene.

I hurried back to the Arches to meet my companions, clutching my kebab. I instinctively knew how incredible this would be so I daren't eat it. I cannot remember a time where food had been TOO good to eat. I nibbled at some of the meat - it was utterly delicious. I bid my farewell and snuck off home.

The kebab was amazing, quite simply. Sweet, juicy meat; a tangy thin garlic sauce with a crisp chunky salad. Look out Arches - there is a new kid in Gloucester Road town.

Visit to the Grecian Kebab House, Gloucester Road , Bristol

This is close to home, looks reasonably authentic and smells amazing so it should be a regular snack stop. For some reason, it isn't. I have pondered many times as to why this is the case - I had a passable kebab there once and the odd portion of chips and other lesser snacks - pizza for example - which were all perfectly lovely. The kebab skewer is often a grand beast: thick and juicy and an irregular shape with a coarse texture. This should elevate it above the smaller, more homogenous looking of its brethren; they even slice it with a knife instead of that vibrating shavey thing for a more rustic feel. The meat was great from what I remember, but the pitta, garlic sauce and salad were sub-par. The salad was almost the polar opposite of the meat - all chopped up and mixed in together, with a vinegary tang presumably to extend the shelflife. The sauce was heavy and think, rendering it cloying and heavy. The pitta was poor also, it did not open into a flap readily which was impossible to wrap up into a sandwich.

I however think that the key to its downfall is the staff and opening hours - I approached the shop one evening to attempt a review but the kebab skewer looked thin and well-shaved, and the gentleman at the counter looked surly and unwelcoming. Couple this with the short opening hours (we have had the door shut on us by another surly gent when attempting another review) and the fact that the Arches sells pizza + chips for £5 and the Grecian is a whopping £6, defying the unwritten agreement of lower Gloucester Road, and you are left with the overwhelming decision, come kicking out time, to venture to the Arches or Effes (review to come soon).

I am determined however to conduct a decent review of the Grecian, the good Lord himself only knows what wonderful kebabs and secrets this place holds.

Featured Elephant Leg: The Arches, Cheltenham Road , Brizzle.

This is an oft visited haunt of mine: close to home, open late and houses a delicious array of meaty treats. On first impressions this looks like, and would be, a standard kebab shop if it weren't for the efficiency, friendliness, relaxed nature, and kebab related expertise of their staff. These guys work long, hard hours - I have often seen the Young Pretender preparing the shop in the late afternoon and he will still be happily dealing with a complex meat order come 3:30 am. The vast array of staff: El Capitan, Shavedsides, Perfectstubble among others all have their own niches and jobs, but the Young Pretender will take the money, fire up the grill, shave the elephant leg, wrap up the chips, cook some onion rings all in the blink of an eye, while ensuring all my salad and sauce needs are taken care of. The first entrant to the kebablog hall of fame for sure.

There have been many memorable visits to this shop, a full review will come soon. I had had many doners and chicken kebabs from the Arches but I feel it is time to try one of their range of shish kebabs or similar, and really do their menu justice. Watch this space.

North Devon Bab

Although this blog is primarily Bristol based, for the first review it was decided to spread our wings to the wonderful quayside town of Bideford and review a doner from there. Also, we happenned to be going there anyway and I was hungry come 2am despite promising myself earlier in the evening that no salty meat would pass my lips.

The setting was a charming place called Ali's Charcoal Grill, next door to another fast food shop, but crucially it appeared to house an elephant leg and reasonably miserable staff. Upon entering the general atmosphere was subdued; none of the chaos, bickering and sizzling of a busy kebab shop which unnerved me slightly. There was no going back however. The welcome was reasonably surly - but very few could beat the enthusastic welcome of Efe's of Bristol or the efficient "whatdoyouwant" of the Arches (both to be reviewed soon - watch this space). I ordered a small doner kebab from a standard but slightly pale-looking elephant leg. No chicken option which reflects poorly on their status as a "charcoal grill" - one skewer is standard chip shop fare in 2009 so I would expect a chicken at the very least. Garlic sauce, lettuce and cucumber was selected as the condiments. I was informed there was NO CUCUMBER. None. I was taken aback but struggled on - I agreed that lettuce and garlic sauce would have to suffice.

This arrived extremely promptly, I believe at least three people were involved in its production. I paid one man who barked the order to his minions, and a toasted pitta was produced filled with flesh by a second, the lettuce and garlic sauce were added by a third and a fourth may have even passed me the sandwich. I forget.

We sat down to await burgers and other lesser snacks for our companions - these would have to wait because of the suspicious speed of arrival of my food. I was instantly impressed, the lettuce was an interesting mix of at least two types - almost a Tesco salad bag style mixture. Impressive and made up for the lack of cucumber. The garlic sauce was nice and thin, no cheap garlic mayo here, with a hint of mint. This could even be passed as fairly authentic. The meat was almost certainly pre-sliced and was chopped up into small chunks (not to mention the rapid arrival discussed earlier) and was soft and evenly lukewarm. I must admit I am partial to the long ribbons of meat and dangling them into my mouth, but this unusual style did facilitate an easy dining experience. It was soft, tender, lamby and the pitta was of good quality so could be made into a tight, solid sandwich with minimal mess.

I left fat and happy, although during the taxi home this did make way for intense queasyness. The next day no ill effects were felt, the odd stomach cramp at 6am but nothing to write home about.