This was experienced back in April at the Doric Kebab House — and I have not been back. Nor do I wonder if I am welcome back after I questioned his toum.

It wasn’t toum. It wasn’t tzatziki. It might have just been white oil. 

What was actually annoying, besides a waste of a meal, was that he didn’t expect me to know any better, nor did he think he should do any better. I was clearly dissatisfied with his food, but as the only kebab shop in the whole town, he didn’t seem to care. 

I’ve steered clear of the donair meat, but curiosity gets the best of me and I have sampled a few falafels throughout the central belt region. None of them were that great, but decent enough to be edible. As this donair one of my first food outings in Huntly, if not in all of Scotland, this sloppy bland meat thing has unfortunately set the standard. And if we are tallying numbers, I have definitely had more bad meals than good ones in this country.

As a regular social experience in my other life, this one blatant gap of good fresh eats, either cheap or chic, has been the sore point of my experience. It boils down to a lack of choices, which is ultimately what makes me a city mouse. 

I was trying to convince someone how I found Scotland to be very monocultural, and I don’t think he believed me, but one look at the food choices, and the flavours of the “ethnic” food choices, and there can be no argument.

This one’s for you, Dane.