Bifteki House, Howard Street, Glasgow

Offering: Doner Kebab

Establishment: Bifteki House, Glasgow

Date and time:  14th March 2017, 13:26

Price: £4.80

Seating: 6 Seats, very small ledge table

In  the early spring of this year, the Doner Informer visited our beloved cousins in the west, the objective was plain and simple - sample the finest doner magic available in Scotland's so-called 

"friendliest city". Instead, we came across Bifteki - located a stones throw away from the handy Glasgow Central Station - I'm very much glad the city planners were visionary enough to build the railway so near the doner heartland.

On this landmark visit, I was accompanied by three colleagues who failed to appreciate the kind offerings by the very delightfully mannered Turkish chap running the operation and they abruptly left to visit some sort of overpriced burger bar with the suggestion that we would reconvene later.

The man behind the counter was a true joy, who knew that he was dealing with a man trained in the (sometimes) dark arts of doner critiquing and attempted (but failed) to bribe me with a small slithered sample of doner overtures before the main event! It was around then that I lectured the chap that my integrity could not be bought and sold. I was also suspecting that he had mercenaries following me, probably from as far away as Edinburgh. My fears were alleviated when the gentleman appeared confused yet unmoved by the vocal rejection of his bribe. It was around then that I realised that this chap was genuinely just trying to be friendly and offering a decent customer service.

...the chilli sauce was so sweet that it could have been diluted and sold as a chilli juice drink, so sickly was this sauce...

When the kebab arrived, I decided to take a seat on one of the uncomfortable high seats facing the wall at a small table - this wasn't the ideal environment but I was well aware that many of the finest doner institutions in Scotland don't even offer this privilege.

The kebab was presented with the accompanying plastic fork was dipped into the red, almost orange looking spicy sauce. It was sweet. In fact, the chilli sauce was so sweet that it could have been diluted and sold as a chilli juice drink, so sickly was this sauce. This was perhaps the sweetest sauce I'd ever sampled in a doner kebab and it was no good thing. I'm well aware that chilli sauces in kebabs should really not have a bitter taste to them, in order to maximise that chilli bite - its important that some sweetness must be used to give it that glorious bite we all know and love. One of the greatest errors that doner establishments make though (this is up there with making a sauce with no heat) is churning out a sauce that is not chilli at all but just sugar. If you were drinking a can of Irn Bru with this kebab, you would be giving yourself your allocated sugar serving as an adult for about a week. Not only this but this does not serve the kebab well at all.

There was no accompanying salad sauce, this establishment either doesn't serve it or it was finished when I visited. They did have a yoghurt sauce though but I declined on the basis that it would have attacked the spiciness that I intended (but failed) to taste in the chilli sauce.

The meat was really nothing to write home about (but here I am). It was seriously standard fare with very little distinctive features - you would be able to get this kebab from any city in the UK (perhaps minus the chilli diluting syrup).

Overall, Bifteki House is not a great kebab place - its an OK kebab place with very little to offer in a presumably competitive market in Glasgow. This operation, I suspect receives the crux of its custom from lesser discerning nearby construction workers and area drunks. The price point of this kebab is very good as the quantity was somewhat favourable, the product on offer though less so. I now look forward to the £2.50 doner kebab my father has been singing hymns about after his recently concluded Doner Tour of Scotland, sponsored by Homebase.

Verdict: 6/10

Doner; Reclaiming Our Heritage From The Elite.

Around 40 years ago, if you wanted to eat a quick healthy meal after a hard days graft, you only had the choice of the local chip shop establishment at best, or if you were particularly poor, a packet of Golden Wonder would have to suffice. That was until a new exotic food from the continent started appearing on side streets and main thoroughfares; Scotland, the UK and the rest of the world had changed forever.

It was around this time that analysts noted the stark contrasts in the British socio-political landscape, such striking differences that still reverberate to this day. Indeed it would be the late 1970's when Margaret Thatcher would be appointed Prime Minister and the first notes of punk-rock had been playing in underground nightclubs in what seemed like urban wastelands, shattering all preconceived notions of what popular music could be.

Some 15 Years earlier, the Americans relentlessly raced the Russians to the moon and when Neil Armstrong symbolically first step foot on the reflective surface of that world, he was underwhelmed that he didn't find what he was looking for.

For thousands of years, books had been written; schools of thought had formed; entire civilisations had emerged, perished and re-emerged. The greatest thinkers of all time were about to be humbled: Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein, Zlatan. A momentous occasion was upon us!

Soon the day would come. Soon the day would come when a meal so delightful in it's presentation, so exquisite in its posture. So ergonomically advanced and ahead of it's time, boasting a mere 1100 calories...  Soon the day would dawn.

What Armstrong was looking for had been happening for centuries in the Middle East. I have no idea why he went to the moon. Neither did he.

Like the Whirling Dervish, the food known to rotate on a spit was almost upon us - it's rough textured slithers of only the choicest quality, cut to perfection by the only the most qualified artisan, complete with chef's hat, charming apron, preferably a thick moustache and non-native English speaking accent.

...overnight, those who had once been so powerful, saw themselves slip off the radar as each sharpened knife tore into grilled minced lamb; the regiments began revolting, the army as a unified single force tore through the establishment...

One incredibly fateful day, it was as if the birth of a new nation had taken place. A people united only by a shared desire of what culinary perfection could be. An unstoppable desire, a zeitgeist unlike any before it, a true moment of wonder was upon us!


As the slithers of delightful joy tumbled on the pitta, dancing on the bread like heavens children or the notes of a harp, a moment previously unimaginable had just taken place. When it rained a mysterious red along with the greenery one would only have seen in exotic gardens, topped up and presented to our subjects, the looks of amazement and euphoria were unquestionable.

Neil Armstrong finally found what he was looking for.

Golden Wonder would one day catch up, but it was too late. For by then the providential impact of the Turkish community on Scotland and the UK could never be reversed. The edible champion had successfully orchestrated what would go on to be considered one of the biggest, most relentless coup d'etats of all time.

There were suggestions...campaigns; demonstrations even!! This is where true power lies. This magnificent foodstuff must replace the face of the Queen on British currency. It was as if overnight, those who had once been so powerful, saw themselves slip off the radar as each sharpened knife tore into grilled minced lamb; the regiments began revolting, the army as a unified single force tore through the establishment like...well, like the artisan chef himself.

The Doner Kebab had finally arrived in the UK.