I’m still overwhelmed by picnic pics (and I edit them in a program called Picnik, very appropriate), so I’m going to start with the Spitz post. I can’t choose between these pictures, either, but there are few enough that I can just slap them all up.
There are so many different variations of kabobs/kebabs/kebaps out there. I’m spelling it the way Spitz spells it, for this post. When in Rome…
Perfect segue, because Lauren became infatuated with doner kebab while she was studying abroad in Italy. When she returned, she searched LA for doner kebabs. You would think that would be an easy search, but LA is not as street-carty as Europe, or even New York. Eventually Lauren discovered Spitz, which at the time had only one small location, in Eagle Rock.
We waited ever-so-patiently for the Little Tokyo location to finally finally open, and it was worth the wait– closer to our apartment, hipper, more seating, Yogurtland and Pinkberry adjacent. (The other night there was a DJ spinning some great ambiance music– not too loud for conversation to flow.)
So Spitz became a thing that Lauren and I would do. And it’s just not the same to eat there without her. So I generally don’t. What was once our special roomie place is now our special former-roomie reunion place.
Reuniting with Spitz and Lauren is like… hmm, how can I analogize this? Like birds of a feather, flocking together? Like kingdoms joining forces? Like two asteroids colliding?
Whatever it is, it involves years of friendship and a whole lot of deliciousness. And a dash of spice, if I forget to ask for no chili sauce (but I can take it!).
Lauren and I both got the chicken doner kebab plate with sweet potato fries. She got sandwich-style, on focaccia bread (apparently that’s European style), and I got mine in a lavash wrap (Mediterranean style, as pictured at the top). Here’s Lauren’s:
And just to show you the grilly goodness of my wrap once it’s un-foiled (is that the inspiration for the word “unfurled”? I’m guessing no…), here’s another picture of it.
As I mentioned in the caption, the meat is flat. Ingenious, for a wrap. Well played!
And here is a picture of my wrap where it appears to be photobombing the rest of my dinner. And it looks like a good-natured shark!
And of course I have to spend a moment or two discussing the sweet potato fries. It sounds crazy, but I wish more of my fries had been soggy. I love soggy fries, and mildly soggy cereal. I think soggy fries are a sign of cardiac-arresting levels of greasiness (or oldness?), but the heart wants what the heart wants. (Even if what it wants is going to make it break, as in stop working?)
BUT whatever, my complaint is strange. I love these fries because they really taste like sweet potatoes, but not in an undercooked way. There are sweet potato fries that taste like regular fries, and there are sweet potato fries that just taste like chopped up, heated sweet potatoes. The sweet potato fries at Spitz contain the perfect blend of sweet potato essence and fry-ness.
I actually took that picture for a potential future header, because I never like any of the sweet potato fry pics on Google images.
Spitz parcels out its ketchup in the typical Heinz packets, and I always manage to go through a very large handful. Looks like this ketchup just lost a war. I titled this picture “Ketchup Victims” on my Flickr.
Speaking of heart attacks, I try to avoid the dip that comes with the fries, as it probably consists mainly of mayonnaise. (I was using the lid and the foil for the ketchup because it always seeps through napkins.)
Lauren knows all too well of my ketchup-slaughtering ways, and in fact earlier in the day she had given me a set of personalized note cards featuring pictures of some of my favorite things, including the incredibly apt “I [heart] ketchup.” (Before I opened it, I thought the ketchup bottle was booze.)
That’s when you know you have a ketchup problem. The next surprise I get from Lauren and Cole just might be a ketchup intervention.
As much as I love the Spitz take on the kebab, my heart yearns to find an LA version of what I had in Israel (I think that would be called falafel/pita/shawerma). They put French fries in the pita! If anybody knows about a place like that… please let me know. There is room in my heart for EVERY type of kebab.
Love and ketchup!
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