A petit Kebab-entary

No, the title does not imply any kind of kebab-induced dysentery. Rather, I wanted to make a brief commentary on kebabs- which, I guess, could also be capable of causing gastrointestinal problems.

For those of you who don't know, kebabs are usually a pita sandwich filled with some sort of variant of a lamb-turkey meat mixture. "Salad" is usually included, which is really just a way of saying minuscule amounts lettuce and some tomato. An important decision for the customer when kebab-ing is to choose freedom fries or a sandwich free of fries, but I find it's usually best to choose the former. Unusually for Americans, the fries are included with the meat and salad on the folded pita. Finally, a sauce is either put on top of all the ingredients or is spread on the pita before loading it with all the other elements of deliciousness.

While kebabs are a savory idea that originates from either Turkey or North Africa or somewhere generally in the Mediterranean region and are prevalent throughout Europe, there is a gross dearth of them in the United States. Meanwhile over here, varieties abound. Of these, I've stumbled upon both good and bad, but today we are here to discuss only the most excellent variants.

One of my favorite kebabs is available in Toulouse. What makes this specific sandwich unique is the fact that they cut the pita bread and fill it with cheese. Thus, when biting in to the normally delicious, meaty, saucy sandwich, you are greeted with the warm, gooey cheese that has melted inside. According to Toulousain kebab owners that Robert talked to, this is not available in Paris. Score one for provence.

In Krakow we stumbled upon a kebab place that stuffed the sandwich with the usual ingredients (no cheese) but with the added touch of cabbage and pickles. A ton of sauce was then slathered upon the kebab to provide a mess of utter deliciousness. I must say that pickles were an unexpected yet excellent addition, and I feel this is a local development that caters to Polish tastes (with which I find my own tastes to be in great harmony).

In Greece, the motherland of gyros, the plates/sandwiches are also excellent, simply because of the apparent freshness and overall tastiness of the product. There, the tzaziki sauce is clearly king, putting the tzaziki's available on other kebabs to shame.

As I sat upon a park bench near a local fountain this eve and watched the dog of a homeless person approach me, I began thinking, "What if we could somehow combine the deliciousness of all these kebab varieties?" Indeed, we would have a pita sandwich with cheese, cabbage, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes packed around fresh lamb/turkey meat, served with French fries, and smothered with tzaziki so fresh that it makes Jay Z realize he's not been checkin' his fresh so much as checkin' his stale all this time. And that's saying something.

To diverge from my kebab-entary, I wanted to point out that my father continues to use the word "matriculation" to refer to admission or acceptance at an educational institution. While this is an acceptable usage, I feel it is grossly outdated, and I was curious to know if anyone else uses this word, or if my 19th-century father is riding this wave alone? I sort of hope no one else uses it, but it does seem like a fun word to use for the sole purpose of speaking in an unusual manner...even if it came from ol' Steve.

Finally, on to something that strikes closer to home for us all. I must point out, however, that by "strikes closer to home," I meant "reverts back to another obsession." And by "us all," I meant me.
Anywho, while somewhere between Zurich, Switzerland, and Paris, France, Jason Bourne once said "[...] at this altitude, I can run flat out for a half mile before my hands start shaking."
Now, normally, I don't put a lot of value in movie dialogue, but this being Jason Bourne, I'm intrigued. Does anyone know at what point they reach this state, or have any curiosity? Recently, I've been running and including some sprinting for the sake of wanting to be more like Jason Bourne/Darren Sproles (of the San Diego Chargers), but I find it's extremely tiring. I am no where near the assumed high altitude that Bourne was at, and I am disappointed to find that I am incredibly winded after about 200-300 yards (~1/7 of a mile). Furthermore, I think I'm slower than Forrest Gump's speech. I mean, maybe it just requires some time and practice, but maybe, God forbid, it's the kebabs?!