Searching for a doner...
Sorry for the horrid photo! It'll get better.So the previous post was not in vain. I mean, I didn’t think it was or anything. I would never waste your time.
Tonight I intended on taking Suzy to Kebab Garden on 1st Avenue in Manhattan. It’s been far too long. But little did I know that Suzy had actually read my previous post and taken note of the address of the city-famous kebab hub.
So we went.
Fortunately the rain held off and the trek was a mere 4-minute walk down MacDougal Street in the West Village, right down the street from where we are both presently squatting.
Five dollars and fifty cents later, we were both seated with our dripping kebab in hand, armed with a fork and a willingness to ingest. At first I was skeptical. The warmed pita was a nice touch. And I knew that there was freshly cooked meat waiting beneath the salad, in addition to the heaps of lamb on top of the green bed. Lettuce, tomatoes, and a white onions flecked with pieces of red onion made the sandwich feel healthy.
But I asked Suzy if she thought she could squeeze a wineglass full of grease out of the sandwich. She cringed and drove her fork back into the mess.
On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being a Montana kebab (come on, it has to be bad) and 10 being a German/Turkish kebab (because Germany does have the third highest population of Turks!), the Yatagan doner kebab earns a 6 for overall taste. It wasn’t too salty, but the meat was tender and juicy. The salad was surprising fresh and pleasant, and the white sauce was definitely the highlight.
Sadly, it only earns a 3 for eatability. It fell right apart. And let’s face it, if you are drunk and raucous, you need your food to be manageable. But not a bad find, considering I’ve lived up the street from this little hut for the past 2 years!
Tonight I intended on taking Suzy to Kebab Garden on 1st Avenue in Manhattan. It’s been far too long. But little did I know that Suzy had actually read my previous post and taken note of the address of the city-famous kebab hub.
So we went.
Fortunately the rain held off and the trek was a mere 4-minute walk down MacDougal Street in the West Village, right down the street from where we are both presently squatting.
Five dollars and fifty cents later, we were both seated with our dripping kebab in hand, armed with a fork and a willingness to ingest. At first I was skeptical. The warmed pita was a nice touch. And I knew that there was freshly cooked meat waiting beneath the salad, in addition to the heaps of lamb on top of the green bed. Lettuce, tomatoes, and a white onions flecked with pieces of red onion made the sandwich feel healthy.
But I asked Suzy if she thought she could squeeze a wineglass full of grease out of the sandwich. She cringed and drove her fork back into the mess.
On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being a Montana kebab (come on, it has to be bad) and 10 being a German/Turkish kebab (because Germany does have the third highest population of Turks!), the Yatagan doner kebab earns a 6 for overall taste. It wasn’t too salty, but the meat was tender and juicy. The salad was surprising fresh and pleasant, and the white sauce was definitely the highlight.
Sadly, it only earns a 3 for eatability. It fell right apart. And let’s face it, if you are drunk and raucous, you need your food to be manageable. But not a bad find, considering I’ve lived up the street from this little hut for the past 2 years!