Whose doner is it? How kebab reflects the story of Turkish migrants

In 2012, residents of a small town in central France were dismayed that their favourite restaurant was being replaced by a doner kebab shop. The establishment, which belonged to the father of Professor Jean Pierre Poulain, a renowned food sociologist, was purchased by Turkish migrants.

The doner shop, popular for quick and authentic street food, was just another addition to the thousands of outlets across Europe. The dish first arrived in Germany in the 1960s, brought along by Turkish migrant labourers.

Doner kebab, made from seasoned meat stacked in an inverted cone on a vertical rotisserie, is cooked on low heat before being thinly sliced and served.

Owing to its popularity, it is now informally used as a measure of inflation in Germany. Doner sales generate an annual turnover of approximately 7 billion euros.

However, popularity comes at a price.

In 2024, doner kebab has become a topic of cultural dispute between Turks and Germans, with both communities claiming ownership of the dish. Turkish migrants in Germany now embody the complex issue of belonging—much like the dish itself. Even within the Turkish community there, opinions on this cultural exchange vary.

“The connection between migrants and the host society revolves around the question of acceptance or rejection, and the food of the 'other' is a very telling sign,” Jean Pierre Poulain tells TRT World.

Battles of belonging

Though doner kebab has long been cherished by both Turks and Germans, the dispute over its ownership reached the international stage recently.

In April, Türkiye submitted an application to the European Commission seeking special status for doner kebab across the EU.

This move coincided with German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier’s visit to Türkiye in April, during which he was accompanied by a Turkish doner kebab producer from Berlin.

The gesture sparked debates about who truly owns the dish and whether it was intended as a symbol of cultural bridging or an assertion of superiority.

If granted, the TSG status, Traditional Speciality Guaranteed, would ensure that only producers adhering to registered production methods could label their product as doner kebab. These standards stipulate that the doner must not include beef from cattle older than three years or turkey bird meat.

Germany’s Federal Ministry of Food and Agriculture has opposed Türkiye’s application, reportedly driven by feedback from German producers’ associations.

“Doner kebab undoubtedly belongs to Türkiye,” says Muzaffer Ceyhan, a 53-year-old Turkish doner producer from Mainz who has been selling doner in Germany since 2001. He also objects to referring to lahmacun—a thin dough topped with minced meat and vegetables—as “Turkish pizza.”

“I correct it to ‘lahmacun’ every time someone calls it ‘Turkish pizza,’” he tells TRT World. “We need to safeguard our values.”

Socio-anthropologist Poulain explains that migrants’ cultural identity is intriguing due to their connection to their place of origin’s food culture.

“This connection is often idealised and sometimes mystified,” he adds.

Jeffrey M. Pilcher, Professor of Food History at the University of Toronto, says that the underlying issue in this dispute is “not about the labelling of doner but the social and cultural status of German Turks in both Germany and Türkiye.”

“We use food to define ourselves and differentiate us from others. So, when two different groups claim the same food, we may feel threatened,” Pilcher tells TRT World.

Evolution through commercialisation

The Istanbul-based International Doner Federation, which filed Türkiye’s EU application, claims that Turkish doner kebab spread throughout the Ottoman Empire in the 1800s.

They assert that the vertical cooking method dates back to the 1500s, documented by Ottoman historian and polymath Takiyuddin, who is believed to have invented the vertically steam-powered rotating doner machine, which is on display at the Museum of Islamic Science and Technology History in Istanbul.

Evliya Celebi, a renowned Ottoman traveller from the 1660s, mentioned a horizontally cooked kebab in Crimea, an Ottoman territory at the time, in his chronicle. Ottoman doner was likely different from the modern doner kebab, typically served on a plate with rice.

It is speculated who first served it in its modern form—wrapped in pita or thin flatbread, which is widely recognized globally. However, doner sandwiches are now the norm in Germany, while in Türkiye, the dish is still served in various forms, such as in bread, on a plate with rice, or with yoghurt.

This difference might have contributed to doner kebab’s popularity in Germany, where it has become a leading street food due to its convenience and ease of consumption.

According to Professor Pilcher, doner kebab is inherently a commercial dish. “Do people really use those vertical rotisseries at home?” he asks. “Today, with so much commercialisation and profit in food sales, rivalry can grow more intense … Turkish cooks are rightfully resentful if their (doner) version is ignored,” he adds.

The literal meaning of the dish refers to the method it is cooked, as the Turkish word doner comes from the word dönmek, which means “to rotate.” Doner’s meat is cooked on a horizontal skewer which rotates on fire.

Germans are also considering a name change in case of the approval of Türkiye’s bid, with the German media suggesting “rotating skewer” as a potential alternative.

Recipes matter

Both producers and consumers note that what distinguishes German doner kebab from others is the generous array of ingredients included with the meat, such as tomatoes, salad, cucumbers, red cabbage, iceberg lettuce, and a variety of sauces.

Experts highlight that recipes are closely tied to identities.

“The link between recipes and identity is,” says Poulain. “Recipes reflect various levels of identity—national, regional, and familial. This capacity for variation defines them. Consequently, doner kebab is not a singular dish but encompasses many versions.”

Muhammed Onur Vural, a young doner producer in Stuttgart, sees no problem with the name “German doner kebab” because of its completely different recipe.

“Our version is much more loaded, with 2-3 times more ingredients, and there are 5-6 different types of sauces. These sauces are a hallmark of the German style, which is why it’s referred to as ’German doner,’” he tells TRT World.

The 30-year-old Turkish man, who has owned a doner shop for 7 years, notes that while doner kebab originated in Türkiye, it was Turkish migrants in Germany who “modernised” the dish.

The key difference between Onur and Muzaffer lies in their generational backgrounds.

Onur, a second-generation Turkish migrant born in Germany, feels a strong connection to the Turkish migrant community he grew up in and defends their role in popularising the dish. Muzaffer, a first-generation migrant from Türkiye who moved to Germany around 30 years ago, is adamant about not using the term “German doner” at all.

Both producers, however, reject the label “German Turkish” and prefer to be identified simply as Turkish.

Identity duality

The International Doner Federation proposes specific methods and standards, including that the meat must be beef or lamb, sliced into pieces 3-5 mm thick, and marinated for at least ten hours with precise amounts of salt, black pepper, oregano, chopped onions, and yogurt or milk.

In Germany, doner producers commonly use veal and claim there aren’t enough facilities to properly marinate the meat as proposed. Most doner shops in Germany do not cook doner horizontally over an open flame; instead, they purchase pre-sliced meat from large suppliers.

“Protected designation of origin means that particular names can only be applied to foods from the designated region,” says Pilcher, but adds that designations do not prevent others from reproducing a particular item.

“The Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana certifies specific pizzerias but cannot stop others from using the term pizza. Essentially, all of these forms of protection are advertising instruments that are considered necessary precisely because cultural exchange is so widespread.”

“With migration, each time a new recipe is created, it’s another narration. It was a new narration for pizza to be produced in Chicago,” Poulain says.

He notes that migrants’ struggle to pinpoint a single source of identity adds complexity to their relationship with food.

While they have been reproducing doner kebab for decades, the story of the approximately 3 million-strong Turkish community in Germany has evolved over generations.

53-year-old doner producer Ceyhan believes the shifting designation of doner kebab between Turkish and German cuisines reflects on the duality of identities of this migrant community.

“They say ‘we belong neither here nor there,’ and they are absolutely right.”