It was as a young man in Berlin, after all, that I first plighted my troth to the meaty mistress of the night, and many fond memories of those formative kebabs remain lodged deep in my psyche. Alas, many kebab shops of old are no longer with us. But many more are still around.
We are about to step out into the gently falling flakes of the recent past. I recall being rather smitten with it at the time. They made β and still make β their lahmacuns fresh on site, and they are delicious. Just after 1am on this particular Friday night, my companions and I were downstairs in Kottbusser Tor U-Bahn station, waiting for the U8, and watching the mice gambol on the tracks.
Outrageously, our U-Bahn was not arriving for another 11 minutes β ample time to nip upstairs and grab a kebab!
I informed my friends of my intentions and bid them a hasty goodbye. He slapped my kebab together with practised efficiency and I left the shop and was back down on the U-Bahn platform well before the train arrived. My old friend, my stalwart source of lunchtime fare. In days of yore I used to work not far from here, and was often wont to slake my midday hunger on the meaty offerings of Bilakis.
Although it was by now in the morning, there was still a healthy queue. Surely a sign that Bilakis itself is in good health! Alas I cannot recall with exactitude quite how my kebab tasted that night, as I was β shall we say β a little worse for wear. I know I found half of it in the fridge the next morning.
