WELL, what a delightful Bank Holiday weekend that was. Cloud, wind and rain, and, I imagine, countless barbecues cancelled or hastily relocated. What is it with this country and its holiday weather?

I didn’t escape the disappointment either, you’ll be relieved to hear.

I had planned for a light barbecued supper, perhaps even eaten alfresco for the first time this year, but as I watched the grey clouds rumble in over the hills above Marsden, I knew it was over. I was going to have to cook my outdoor meal indoors.

For some reason I’d got a bee in my bonnet about kebabs, and set about amassing the ingredients. I’m very keen on the combination of hot grilled marinated meats, and crunchy cabbage, all tucked into a soft pita bread or flatbread of some kind. With a sprinkle of lemon juice and the optional blast of chili sauce, it’s a wonderful dish to snack upon, and a million miles away from the greasy, salty specimens you find half-eaten (or worse) on doorsteps around town on a Sunday morning. To want one of those, you need to reach heroic levels of inebriation and it’s not recommended.

Having said that, I distinctly remember getting very good kebabs from a place called, forgive me if I recall this incorrectly, Kebab Corner, on Chapel Hill. This must be, oh, back in the early-to-mid 1980s. Dad and I used to drive all the way from Elland to pick up these special treats on the occasional Friday night, and they were absolutely delicious. Apart from offering the doner meat, sliced from the traditional rotating spit (and this was a novelty back then, remember), they cooked little meatballs called sheftalia, and it was these that I remember with almost Proustian clarity. Chargrilled rugby-ball-shaped nuggets of lamb mince, very well seasoned with herbs and a little spice, they came tucked into a large pita bread, with plenty of crunchy, sharp salad, and juicy tomato. Brilliant. And so memorable, they came back to me in a flash last week, so I resolved to make my own on Monday, and which was marginally spoiled by the rain. But they still tasted fantastic, so fresh and herb-y, and I’d like to share the recipe with you. Just cross your fingers for a spot of sunny weather, because they improve immensely with the heat and smoke of the hot coals.

True, authentic sheftalia should be made by wrapping the meat in little squares of sheep’s caul fat, but even I find it hard to get hold of this, so I won’t expect you to do so. The fat protects the meat, and makes the meatballs very juicy, but if you cook the sheftalia carefully, you will still retain all the moisture you need.

Serves 4

The Sheftalia:

2 thick slices fresh bread, whizzed to breadcrumbs

A splash of milk

500g locally-reared lamb mince

500g locally-reared pork mince

1 onion, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

A handful of fresh flatleaf parsley, finely chopped

1 teaspoon dried ‘Herbes De Provence’

1 pinch cumin powder

1 teaspoon fresh oregano, chopped

The zest of 1 lemon

S&P

The Salad:

1 medium white cabbage

The juice of the lemon you zested

Extra-Virgin olive oil

S&P

A few ripe vine tomatoes

1 onion, very finely shredded (optional)

½ cucumber, finely chopped into matchsticks

Pita Breads

Firstly, soak the bread in the milk until soft and pulpy. Then, bring this and all the ingredients together, and mix gently but thoroughly, adding a little olive oil to loosen the mixture if necessary. Roll balls of the mixture together and then flatten them slightly.

To make the salad, use your sharpest knife to quarter, core, and shred the cabbage as finely as you possibly can, and dress this with lemon juice, olive oil and seasonings. If you want to add onion, do so now. Keep the cucumber and tomatoes separate.

Warm the pitas in the oven, or gently on the edge of the barbecue – they taste fantastic with a little charring here and there – and finally, grill your sheftalia until cooked through, and nicely crisped on the outside. Tuck these into your pita breads, top with plenty of salad, chili up if you’re that way inclined, and enjoy.