Michael Turkish fast food in America cannot be compared to Turkish fast food in Germany. Here in California, there is even a considerable number of establishments that prepare and sell Turkish food, but somehow it tastes completely different. Most of the time, it is not purely Turkish specialties, but more Mediterranean or Middle Eastern influenced dishes. So it is not unusual for a Turkish restaurant here to sell Greek "Gyros" or Middle Eastern "Falafel" without batting an eye. Unthinkable in Germany, political unrest would ensue!
Recently, when a Turkish fast food place opened around the corner from us, I naturally went there as one of the first customers and asked for a döner, which they didn't have in that form. I learned from the seller, who originally came from Turkey, that Americans generally have trouble keeping the meat held together by the bread from falling out while eating, and that's why every fast food place sells so-called "wraps," in which the meat cut from the kebab skewer is wrapped with salad in a thin flatbread pancake. Of course, it tastes completely different from the toasted coriander bread sold by German-Turkish fast food places!
Furthermore, one must know that the Döner is a purely German specialty that was brought into the country by Turkish immigrants. What is called "Döner" in Germany, in this form —- with the toasted coriander roll and the crispy veal roasted on a spit (recently also turkey in Munich) and seasoned salad -— is very, very rarely found outside of Germany. This is also the reason why, whenever I happen to be in Munich every few years, I immediately seek out the nearest Döner stand and greedily devour a Döner.
Recently, another Turkish restaurant opened up within walking distance. It's called "Shish Ke Baba" and is located at the corner of 30th Street and San Jose Avenue in the Bernal Heights neighborhood. I explained the situation to the friendly lady at the counter, and her husband in the kitchen immediately agreed to make me a "German Style" döner using a flatbread, which is their specialty. It wasn't quite the coriander bread I'm used to in German-Turkish fast food places, but more like a French brioche, but still. They also advised me to carefully unwrap the whole thing from the aluminum foil and take a bite, otherwise the contents would fall out of the bun. But I just laughed and said I had practice with that. The fun wasn't exactly cheap, as the dish only comes with an extra salad, but I paid about 15 dollars and was very satisfied with the döner.
What was still missing was the typical döner spice. When the man in German döner shops asks, "Do you want it spicy?" and you say yes, he sprinkles in a certain substance, which, as I found out through Amazon, is the Turkish spice "Aleppo pepper." I quickly ordered it online for a small amount of money, and next time I order my döner "German style," I will secretly spice it up at home. Maybe one day we'll get a real döner in our döner diaspora!