When you hear “lamb” in England, it conjures blurred memories of last Saturday night when the pub had closed but you were far too hungry (or just too greedy) to go home. Stumbling out of the local with a belly full of beer and a brain soaked with the joys of 2 for 1 shots, you recall belching loudly and asking for “shish mate, much healthier without the pita ain’t it. And don’t forget the mayonnaise. And extra chips. With a coke. And garlic bread too.” Shortly before you woke up in a gutter, wondering why your mouth tasted like the inside of your old PE trainers.
Well, we don’t like to blow our own trumpet, but allow us to educate you, our dear hungover friend. Before it was bastardised by the high street kebab shops, the lamb kebab was a prized dish in our home town of Bursa. Hot, mouth-watering chunks of spicy lamb, seared to a gorgeous pink, its juices exploding across your taste buds, melting in the mouth and mingling with the joyous crunch of chilli and onion, all cloaked in the soft warmth of a hand-kneaded wrap, or simply left to savour on the plate.
That’s what we call a kebab.
Of course, Skewd likes to serve ours a little differently. That’s why we marinate ours for 48 hours in a secret family stew of herbs, spices and juices before we sear, season and serve in the white hoy clay pit. It’s the taste of our home town, and we’re here to claim it back.
Because if Skewd was a shoe, it would be a Jimmy Choo. Not a pair of battered Reebok classics, with garlic mayonnaise spilled on them.