Best kebab pizza In Riccione

A must-see every year, the best in Riccione.

It’s not every day that you come across a kebab that comes close to the divine. But today was one of those days when you walk off the street corner slightly surprised, slightly confused and very full. I found myself in front of a small, slightly run-down kebab grill, the kind of place that almost seems too anonymous to have anything special to offer. But as so often before, those humble places hide big surprises. And this time it was a juicy, spicy, almost perfect kebab – albeit with a few noticeable blemishes that dragged it down from a potential top score. Let’s start with the most important thing: the taste. The meat. Oh, the meat. It was grilled to perfection – dark and slightly crispy on the edges, but still juicy and full of flavour. It was clear that this wasn’t just any frozen block of meat cut from the machine; it had been pampered. The taste was of marinade, perhaps yogurt, lemon, garlic and a well-balanced mix of Middle Eastern spices. It tasted homemade, and it tasted of love. The bread, a warm and lightly grilled flatbread (perhaps a dürüm or a homemade pita), had just the right combination of chewiness and crispiness. It mostly held things together – but here we also come to the first small disappointment. The construction. The kebab was, as we say in good Danish, tap. Not in the sense of tasteless – quite the opposite – but in the sense that it was a little sloppily assembled. The filling hung over the edges, the dressing was plentiful (which in itself is not a bad thing!), but it was not distributed evenly. The result? A kebab that starts with pure perfection, but ends as a messy affair, where halfway through you sit with greasy fingers, dripping sauce and small pieces escaping from the bread. The salad was fresh, though. Crisp iceberg, thinly sliced red onions, tangy cucumbers, and a discreet handful of tomatoes provided the necessary acidity and texture. And here's a real highlight: the chili dressing was excellent—intense but not overwhelming, with a heat that built without burning the palate away. The garlic sauce was creamy and rich, though a little too heavy at the bottom. But then there was this sloppiness. It's a bit like being served a perfectly grilled steak—on a paper plate that collapses under the weight. It all tastes wonderful, but you spend more time balancing, wiping your mouth, and saving lost fillings than you do just enjoying the experience. The service? Friendly and efficient. I felt welcome, and the food was prepared with visible care. Nothing was spared, and that's always a plus. The portion was more than ample—so large that it was almost a physical challenge to finish it. I managed it (of course), but it required concentration. Conclusion: This kebab was a reminder of why street food can still be one of the most satisfying food experiences of all. The taste was spot on, the quality was high, and you could tell that everything had been thought through – from the seasoning of the meat to the choice of fresh vegetables and sauces with a twist. But unfortunately, the overall impression was dragged down by the practicality. A kebab should be edible. And when it ends up being more of a struggle than a pleasure, you lose a bit of the magic.