The battle over a kebab's nationality

The flare-up between Germany and Turkey over doner is just the latest chapter in the conflict over so-called national dishes.

- Howard Chua-Eoan

In an essay for The Spectator in 1965, the enchantingly droll British food writer Elizabeth David related the travails of a Paris restaurant at the end of the 19th century that went out of its way to make the English dishes already on its menu even more a l'anglaise. It was a heartfelt attempt to accommodate its British customers. And so, with the roasted marrow bones came English mustard- and chips (that's fries to Yanks). It wasn't a success. "Marrow bones," David wrote, "being one of the rare dishes that no Englishman would want chips with."

In the early 21st century, nations seem even more thin-skinned about their native cuisine and proprietary as well. In July, the Istanbul-based International Doner Federation petitioned the European Union to impose strict proportions to the vertically roasted, horizontally sliced cutlets of meat and if restaurants and shops fail to comply, they can't label their products "doner" or "doner kebab". Germany has protested loudly, because its large ethnic Turk population has turned doner into a staple of popular dining, serving it up in various innovative styles (as do the Mexicans and Greeks, though they call them al pastor and gyros, respectively).

Indeed, it might seriously be argued that doner kebab is Germany's de facto national dish. Several ethnic Turks in Germany claim to have pioneered the doner im brot -the kebab sandwich, which is different from the preparations (with pita or rolled in flatbread) Turkey is most familiar with.