Doyum, Kottbusser Tor

BERLIN. Ah, Berlin. Does it set your pulse racing too, Döner Fans? Do its leafy avenues, its yellow U-Bahns and its concrete Plattenbauten call out to you across the ether? Do its kebabs summon you back year after year with the promise of spice and meat and flavour?

No aficionado of the upright rotisserie snack can stay away from Berlin for long. In June, Dr Döner was back in the Hauptstadt, doing all his favourite things. At the end of a long sunny day spent pleasantly in the streets and beer gardens of Friedrichshain, a few friends and I boarded the U-Bahn at Warschauerstraße and trundled our way along the overhead tracks past the Oberbaumbrücke to Kottbusser Tor. Kottbusser Tor! How its name makes my heart sing. Nowhere else will you find such a joyous mess of humanity; nowhere else will you find finer kebabs.

The Oberbaumbrücke at golden hour.

It was at Kottbusser Tor that we found Doyum, a kebab shop on Admiralstraße, just off the junction. It was recommended by a friend. Doyum is famous for its homemade bread and Turkish pizzas, and is something of a Berlin institution. I ordered a dürüm, and we took our places in the outdoor seating area, from where we could watch the comings and goings of Kotti. A warm breeze whispered up the street, bringing with it that warm Berliner scent of beer and exhaust fumes and possibilities.

The lights and bustle of Doyum’s outdoor seating area, with Kottbusser Tor station in the distance.

Sitting at our table by the window, we could watch the floury dürüm bread being lovingly crafted before our eyes by an ageing, moustachioed gentleman who you just know has never made a bad dürüm in his life. The dürüm bread that he produces is deliciously light and floury, and envelops the kebab in a tender, doughy embrace. I watched eagerly, and as soon as my dürüm was ready, I tucked in.

A glimpse of the tiled interior, in which uniformed staff lovingly craft kebabs.

This was no ordinary Berliner kebab. This was no mere exercise in culinary box-ticking. This was a Berliner kebab with panache! The salad was fresh and had a satisfying crunch. Even the sauces were especially flavourful. The bread, of course, was soft and sublime. It was the best kebab I had had in a long time.

As I ate my meal, only one question nagged me. I was not familiar with the Turkish word ‘doyum’. When I looked up what it meant, I found that one of its possible translations is ‘orgasm’. Now, the kebab was not THAT good. But it was close. A more suitable translation would be ‘satisfaction’, or so a Turkish friend assured me. Each to their own. In any case, I warmly recommend Doyum to all of you, Döner Fans! It gets the Dr Döner seal of approval.

Night falls on Doyum. Auf Wiedersehen!

Results

Service: 4/5 (swift and efficient)

Atmosphere: 5/5 (the bustle of Kotti, plus the calming sight of dürüm being made)

Price: 3/5 (€8 for a dürüm is pricey)

Taste: 5/5 (like a ‘doyum’ for your mouth)

Photographs by Dr Döner

Snack Bailli, Ixelles

BRUSSELS. Always remember, Döner Fans: kebabs are like people… some of them will disappoint you. I was recently disappointed by a kebab on Rue du Bailli, in Ixelles. Let me explain.

Neon-edged disappointment looms out of the night.

Last weekend, Dr Döner was returning home from drinks on Place du Châtelain. It had been a pleasant evening. We had been entertained by a small chihuahua-like dog belonging to one of the guests, which had been passed adoringly around the table until it peed on someone. As the drinks were for someone’s birthday, Dr Döner was persuaded to consume something called a ‘Jäger bomb’ – an experience which he is in no hurry to repeat.

Fearing my own bowels might betray me in the same manner as the chihuahua’s, I took my leave and tottered off towards the tram stop at Bailli to catch the last tram home. On the way, I spotted the glowing shopfront of Snack Bailli, and could not resist ‘the old urge’. I went inside and ordered a pain turc.

The promising shopfront of Snack Bailli. Who can resist the old urge?

The man who served me spoke with a lilting drawl and ended each of his sentences with ‘OK?’ When it was time to pay, an elderly assistant emerged from an unseen backroom to take my €6.50, which he did slowly and laboriously, using the card machine as if he had never seen one before. I only just made it to Bailli in time to catch the tram.

Not that it mattered. By the time I alighted at Louise, the metros had stopped running. Anticipating a long walk home, I paused to eat my pain turc at the tram stop. The first bites told me everything I needed to know: this was a bad kebab. The salad consisted of dry shredded carrot and dry shredded cabbage. For most of the meal, I felt like this was all I was eating. There was not much meat, and what there was, was spongy and flavourless. Had I not been so desperate for sustenance, I might have thrown this disappointing cabbage sandwich in the bin. But I munched it down, lurking near the bike racks at Louise tram stop, before shuffling homeward along the Brussels Ring. It was a very poor kebab indeed.

Disappointment between two pieces of bread: cabbage and carrots, with a small meat garnish.

I don’t know what conclusions to draw from this, other than ‘be careful’. You never know when a bad kebab might hit you. The only consolation is that it will make the good kebabs taste all the better. Until next time, Döner Fans!

Louise is a lonely place to eat a kebab at night.

Results

Service: 3/5 (fine)

Atmosphere: 2/5 (clean but narrow)

Price: 3/5 (€6.50 is normal for Brussels these days)

Taste: 2/5 (disappointing and cabbagy)

Photographs by Dr Döner

Panam Kebab, Place Fernand Cocq

BRUSSELS. Bonjour, Döner Fans! No sooner is Dr Döner back from Berlin, than Berlin shows up in Brussels. A much-hyped new kebab joint has opened on Place Fernand Cocq, offering ‘Berliner kebab, street style, grilled in Brussels’. (Allegedly.) Well, my kebab pangs are always worst after a trip to Berlin, so to temper the withdrawal shakes, I hot-footed it down to Panam to see if they could fill the döner-shaped hole in my life.

Panam Kebab, Place Fernand Cocq 14

Panam is a modern, snazzy, hipster-ish kind of place, right next to the gemeentehuis on the square. The interior is bare brick, steel chairs and pale wooden table-tops. A golden neon silhouette of the Panam logo fizzles next to the counter, behind which the chicken döner-log can be seen sweating against the upright rotisserie grill. Three kebab artisans are on hand to take orders.

The Panam menu. €10.90 for a kebab is a little steep…

My kebab companion and I arrived around 13:30 on a Saturday and it was rather quiet so the service was quick. We chose two chicken döners (for easy comparison with Berliner kebabs) with a side order of frites and two bottles of Germany’s own Fritz Kola. Confusion arose as to whether I’d ordered deux frites or deux Fritz, but it was soon resolved. I blame my bad French.

Brussels is currently experiencing a heatwave and we sat outside on the street in 30 degree heat. The kebabs arrived in Panam-branded paper pockets, balanced on Panam-branded metal kebab-holders. I inspected my meal. It did not look much like a Berlin kebab. Still, I tucked in.

The Panam kebabs, nestled among Panam-branded accessories.

The bread is sourced from Renard Bakery, also on Place Fernand Cocq. It is fresh and springy and very nice. But it is not the Turkish Fladenbrot that you would get in Berlin. The kebab was topped with crumbled feta and chopped mint leaves which tasted very fresh and pleasant. Under these were large, chunky pieces of marinated chicken cut from the döner log.

The chicken had been stacked onto the log in thick pieces and looked more like shawarma than traditional döner. Also the marinade clashed a little with the sauces, resulting in a flavour-fusion that I could not quite place. The salad was a little heavy on the cabbage, but the grilled courgette and pepper were good, channelling a distinct Gemüsekebap vibe. The frites were thin and crispy too. All in all, very nice.

The Panam meat-log. On the right, a derrière.

And yet. Was this a Berliner kebab as advertised? No. A Berliner kebab is a greasy, messy, sinfully-delicious fast-food treat packed with fresh salad and slathered in distinct Berliner sauces. What Panam serves are gourmet chicken rolls. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoyed it. But there was none of the guilt, the illicit pleasure, that should accompany a real kebab. If I want a real Berliner kebab, I will go to Berlin.

A trip to the Panam bathroom is a neon-bathed adventure.

After devouring my so-called chicken döner, I made a trip to the loo. This turned out to be a unisex bathroom with ‘Pee & poop room’ on the door (in case you were unsure what to do inside). The bathroom itself was bathed in purple neon light and filled with the pump of disco music. Perhaps I had wandered into a Berlin club after all.

Do not try to do anything else in here.

Results

Service: 4/5 (very quick)

Atmosphere: 4/5 (clean and modern)

Price: 2/5 (€10.90 for a döner kebab is pushing it)

Taste: 3/5 (fine, but it’s no Berliner kebab)

Photographs by Dr Döner

Keb’up, Uhlandstraße

BERLIN. Guten Tag, meine lieben Döner Fans! All things must return to source. And last weekend Dr Döner returned to Berlin.

It was but a flying visit. I travelled there aboard the new Brussels-Berlin night train, about which many fine writers have penned eloquent reviews (forthcoming). I was staying at a hotel on Uhlandstraße, off the Kurfürstendamm, and as luck would have it this placed me a mere stone’s throw from my two favourite Berliner staples: a Späti and a kebab shop. And so when darkness fell, I stepped out into the balmy evening and entered the meaty glow of Keb’up.

I feel there is a pun here… Write in with your suggestions.

Keb’up is a cosy, intimate kebab establishment. At present it is sheltering demurely behind scaffolding, within sprinting distance of a portaloo. (Always a good sign.) As soon as I stepped inside I was overpowered by the familiar meaty fragrances of a traditional Berliner kebab shop. Ah, the fatty aroma of the meat-log, the garlicky tang of the sauces… My mouth watered in delight, so much so that I barely managed to form the words ‘einmal Döner im Brot bitte’.

Keb’up sheltering demurely behind scaffolding. The edge of the portaloo can be glimpsed on the right.

As I watched, the wedge of flatbread was first slathered in sauces – Knoblauch und scharf – before the juicy, crispy meat was shovelled in. Next, fresh handfuls of perky lettuce, cucumber, tomato and onion were added to the ensemble. With a jolly ‘bitte schön’ and a twinkle in his eye, the kebab craftsman handed over the döner, accepted my €5.50, and turned pleasantly to the next customer. I scurried out of the shop to consume my kebab al fresco.

A real Berliner kebab. Ah, it has been too long…

Well, Döner Fans. What is my verdict? It had been so long, so painfully long since I’d last dined on a Berlin kebab. And perhaps for that reason, the Döner im Brot that I ate that night was pure poetry in my mouth. As I sat under the scaffolding, my senses overloading on garlic and onion, I wept meaty tears of untrammelled delight. Why was I forced to subsist on mediocre kebabs when it could be like this all the time? Alas, I chomped down my döner and it was finished all too soon.

As I sat digesting my meal, I had time to ponder the name Keb’up. There was definitely some word-play going on here, but its meaning escaped me. A few days later at Warschauer Straße I spotted a kebab shop named Keb me up, so it seems the pun trend is everywhere. Are other shops doing the same? What other variants might there be? ‘How long can you keb it up?’ ‘You keb me right up baby right up?’ The possibilities are endless.

‘You keb me right up.’

After my kebab I enjoyed a chilled bottle of Berliner Pilsner on a bench outside a Späti further up the street. Sipping its amber goodness, I toasted the fresh and fragrant Berliner night, as if being here were the most normal thing in the world. Ah, where else but in Berlin! Until next time, Döner Fans. Bis bald!

Drinking a Berliner outside a Späti: one of life’s simple pleasures.

Results

Service: 4/5 (cheery and efficient)

Atmosphere: 3/5 (narrow but well-lit interior)

Price: 4/5 (€5.50 is a good price nowadays)

Taste: 5/5 (simply delicious)

Photographs by Dr Döner