There is something about the smell of shawarma spices hitting a hot pan that transports me straight to the streets of Jerusalem — the cumin, the turmeric, the cinnamon all mingling together in this intoxicating cloud. I marinate the chicken thighs (always thighs, never breast, the difference is non-negotiable) in yoghurt and spices until they're practically begging to be grilled. Then you pile it all into a warm flatbread with tahini, pickled turnips, and an avalanche of fresh herbs. Every bite is an entire journey through the Levant.