The best time to visit this Shawarma Row standard-bearer is when it’s busiest, when the little shop practically heaves with a crush of humanity. The choreography of how Sumaq’s dozen-odd cooks, bakers and counter staff handle that crush is one of the most flat-out delicious open-kitchen shows in town.
In a quiet back corner, the baker at Sumaq’s clay-walled tanoor spins out blistered and steaming stacks of impossibly stretchy flatbreads at a rate that would make even the most accomplished pizzaiolo’s head spin. At the shop’s hulking vertical rotisseries — on a busy Saturday, they go through an incredible 560 kgs of intricately spiced and seasoned veal and chicken here — the countermen sabre off razor-thin slices that baste in the drippings where they land. They dress five or six shawarmas at a time, at blurry-fast speed, with rich, garlicky toum; with punchy cucumber and turnip pickles and onions; with the puckery, purple-fruit smack of pomegranate molasses or dark-flavoured HP Sauce (a popular colonial holdover in Iraq). They then dip each wrap in drippings before griddling it crisp.
It all happens fast — you’re in and out in 20 to 30 minutes, usually. And the thing you leave with, that steamy and tender-chewy griddle-seared tanoor bread; the pop and crunch of the pickles and perfectly seasoned onions; the deep-carnal cardamom and nutmeg and lemon-zest-spiced satisfaction of the rotisserie’s meat; the zing (or glowering, pith-helmet hum) of that sauce, could be the most delicious wrap this side of Baghdad.
