Hello, and thank you dear reader for logging on once again for one of my increasingly infrequent pieces of kebab discourse.

Today, it’s the Tikka Masala Kebab, available at your local German Doner Kebab for a limited time, and as always with these kind of things, theres a bit of blurb I can quote to kick things off. Here’s what the website says:

“Two legends, one kebab. Served with a new limited edition Tikka Masala sauce and a drizzle of cool mint raita. Developed in partnership with the Shish Mahal, who are credited with creating the Chicken Tikka Masala in the 1970s.”

Ahh, yes. The Shish Mahal. Currently on Park Road in Glasgow’s up-and-coming West End, legend has it that the Tikka Masala was invented one night as an improvisation to appease a customer who was either disappointed, angry, or apoplectic that the chicken tikka he’d ordered was just marinaded, cooked chicken. Some say that the Tikka Masala was created as a result of a guy who had staggered in, drunk, ordered a curry, but essentially got warm Fridge Raiders. Others say that the mystery diner that night was perfectly calm and just returned the order to the kitchen. Some say that the masala sauce was made with a tin of Heinz Tomato Soup that just happened to be in a cupboard, others say it was a bit more complicated than that. Either way – its a story that has grown legs over the years – no-one can quite agree on how it was invented, as with all legends, is the truth all that important anyway? With that, here is Shawarma Police’s take on how the Chicken Tikka Masala came into being – consider this an amalgam of all the stories we’ve heard, all rolled into one.

The Tikka Masala story – as interpreted by Shawarma Police

It is a quiet midweek night on Gibson Street, and it’s getting late. Typical of the summer in many ways, a large student area was deprived of its very lifeblood for three months of the year due to the holidays, and whilst the local university did it’s best to fill in the summer season with a mixture of courses for all, professional qualifications and the like, footfall for local businesses was down, and it wasn’t unusual for the local businesses to shut earlier than advertised simply due to lack of custom.

The Shish Mahal was no different – it had seen a steady stream of custom in the lunch and pre-theatre spikes but the evening had fallen flat. By 9pm, not a single customer in two hours had passed through the doors, and the only thing that was keeping them open was a reservation running late – a table for four, in the name of Mr Fisher. This reservation had been phoned in the previous day; and was for 8pm. The time was 9.15, and the staff patiently stared at the door, hoping to see some kind of moment on the double-hinged saloon style door, which was in fashion at the time.

HELLO!!!! shouted Fisher, bursting in. A young man, no older than 20 I’d say, he was unaccompanied. He was greeted by Tahir, who was alarmed by the young man’s presence, and decided he was having none of it.

“Good evening, Sir. We are closing. You may wish to try Mister Singh’s down the road, I understand they are open late this evening”.

“Good sir, Sir. Sir! I believe I reserved a table for four. Is that not available?”

Tahir realised that this was the Fisher who had booked a table. “Ahh, Mr Fisher, my apologies. You see, I was expecting someone a little older, perhaps, and with three companions. Are they… running late?”

Fisher was a bad liar. “They are dead. They died.”

Fisher spoke with an accent that was difficult to place to a Glaswegian. English? Yes. Southern English, but not London, and not farmer. Tahir, who spoke with a Glaswegian accent, asked him where he was fae. “That, buddy, is a long story, and you’re closing.”

“We most certainly are, Mr Fisher. If you could please leave.”

“But… my dead buddies…”

“Mr Fisher, it has cost us more to stay open for two hours than you could possibly eat in 15 minutes. You said you wanted a table for four, you told me your companions were dead, and I am sorry to say, you do not look recently bereaved.”

Fisher takes his wallet from his pocket and flashes a fifty pound note – a lot of money back in the 70’s, in fact half of the UK’s Gross Domestic Product in 1973. Tahir relents. “You see, buddy, I always ring for a table of four, because a table for one doesn’t cut it. I want the big table, with the big chair and big footrest.”

Tahir was confused. He couldn’t follow Fisher’s logic at all. “Mr Fisher – we will be happy to cook you a meal. But – the kitchen is closing, so we have a reduced menu, apologies. Please select from this list.” Tahir hands Fisher a piece of A5 paper with an emergency menu printed by typewriter. There were two options – Chicken Tikka, and Saag Aloo. Fisher chose the former.

Not too much time had passed between the order being made and Tahir returning with Fisher’s drink – an old style class bottle of full fat Coke. Fisher seemed annoyed at being given the option of a straw, but again, he was youthful. Fisher poured the coke into a water glass that was on his big table, that came with the big chairs but no big footrest. He took a sip. “Mmm. Curry” he thought, awaiting the main course. As I said, the restaurant was pretty much dead at this point; Fisher looked around, all he could see was empty tables, a couple of other staff were sat at the staff table, chatting, but it was empty otherwise. The decor was much as you would expect from a restaurant of it’s time – paisley wallpaper, folded napkins, you know the drill.

The food arrives! Tahir serves the chicken tikka, four skewers of yellowy-brown chicken cubes on fancy wooden skewers, sitting on a bed of fluffy basmati rice, with the odd cardamom seed sticking out. Fisher wasn’t happy.

“IS THIS AI?”, he exclaimed?

Tahir was taken aback. “No sir, this is Chicken Tikka. This is what you ordered!”

“Artificial Intelligence, man! This looks like it was made by AI.”

“It was made by our chef, Mr Ali, Sir”

“Well it’s not a curry now, is it? Curry has a sauce – this is dry chicken! Dry CHICKEN! Buck BUCK!!!”

At this point, Tahir is in no mood to argue, mainly because he wants to go to bed, but increasingly because he doesn’t want to enter into an argument with a man who is making chicken noises. “Very good sir, I will speak with Mr Ali”. Tahir picks up the plate and returns it to the kitchen.

“Mr Ali – we have to get rid of this man. He says he will eat this – then promptly leave – if there is a sauce to go with it. Can you add a sauce to this?” Mr Ali looks through the cupboards, and produces a tin of tomatoes, some cream, a little bit of butter, and a bad of spices marked “SECRET. MILD, BUT SECRET” in big stencilled letters. “The time has come!”

Five minutes later, Tahir comes out with the same plate of basmati rice, only now the chicken has been removed from the fancy wooden skewers, and has been covered with this rich aromatic tomato sauce with a hint of cumin and turmeric.

Fisher has a bite. “Wow. WOW! This is the stuff! Why did you not bring me this earlier?”

“I’m sorry Sir, we would have given it to you sooner, only it hadn’t been invented then.” Tahir then goes on to explain how his request for less dry chicken, buck BUCK, had forced the restaurants chef into a small bit of improvisation. “I love it!!”, Fisher says, “what do you call this thing?”

Tahir smiles. “The Aristocrats!”

Fisher doesn’t get it. Tahir coughs, then continues. “The dish you ordered was the Chicken Tikka – and we added a sauce which we would call a masala – so, Masala Chicken Tikka I suppose?”

The saloon doors burst open, suddenly. “Oh great, what now?” thinks Tahir. Fisher looks up. “Sorry I’m late, Rob!”, Climie says. “After todays course in landscape gardening, we all went to the Doublet and I may have had one to many sherries. I’ve surely forgotten all I ever knew about the differences between L and C-shape retaining walls. Ooh, that smells good, what is it?”

“Masala Chicken Tikka” jumps in Tahir – “but it’s only just been invented five minutes ago. I will need to check in with chef Mr Ali to see if he can make more”

Or something like that, I wasn’t there.

THE ACTUAL REVIEW

The Tikka Masala kebab from GDK looks like this:

What I will say is – I think the humble tikka masala sauce on a kebab is an idea that is frankly well overdue anyway. Most kebab red sauces are tomato based so we’re not exactly reinventing the wheel here – we’re just replacing a chilli led sauce with a buttery cumin one instead.

BUT IT BLOODY WORKS. IT WORKS REALLY REALLY WELL.

I didn’t think I’d enjoy this but I really did, and tonight I will get my third. Literally, at some point, I’m saying “fuck it, post”, hitting post, and going for one of these, because they’re great. I think what I like about the masala sauce is the hidden heat – the Shish Mahal chefs have hidden some heat in there which pops out when you least expect it – and it’s delightful.

You might think that because the sauce was invented for chicken, that this only works with chicken – well, know you this: I think it worked better with the beef/chicken mix.

Special mention to the raita – fairly sure back in the “three tubs of condiment” days, the classic GDK days – raita or something indistinguishable was included – but anyhow, it’s nice to have yoghurt sauce on the menu.

Before I leave, I’ll say this to the good people of GDK if they’re reading: ever thought of a collab with Subway?

6 months ago I made a proof-of-concept – a Frankenstein’s Monster of my own creation, but it was great – will we see this at any point in the future?

German Doner Kebab,

Branches across the UK. The regular) GDK OG kebab is 8.99 – you can get it in a wafflebread or wrap – and theres a vegan option – all £8.99 at time of sampling (May 21)

8/10