I can relate to this:
Technically called the “Shawarmah” by the locals it is God’s gift to the gourmand. Its something like a rolled up arabic bread with stuffing. Nowadays you get authentic Lebanese sandwich at every nook and corner. Back then you only got it in the old market at a few shops run by Iranians, or Indians. Outside each cafe-like setup, there’d be this guy sweating it out in front of a vertical grill. And sizzling away would be a vertical skewer of meat some 2 feet tall and a feet round. A huge chunk of it. The guy would deftly turn it around every few second so it would get roasted by the grill. “Thalatha Shawarma, Dejaj”. When Dad said the magic words, I died and went to heaven. Four sandwiches, chicken. Sweaty griller man would quickly pick up a huge knife and pick and shred off some grilled meat from the heavenly mega-kebab. The aroma still drives me wild…
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