So, what is the deal with donair sauce? I can’t help but hear Seinfeld’s voice. He would most likely go on to joke about its viscosity. Well, perhaps we won’t go there. 

Here on the East Coast, the donair is an institution. You can’t really call yourself a Bluenoser until you’ve stuffed your face with the sweet and savoury pita, most likely at 3 a.m. — exactly when you don’t give a crap about dripping sauce down your chin or all over that hair you spent an hour curling.

While variations of the wrap exist, out here, it is straight up donair: seasoned meat shaved off a spit, diced tomatoes, onions, and the sweetest of sauces, all wrapped in warm pita. I can’t honestly recall the last time I ate a donair, but there was a time when donair sauce and I were BFFs. Back in high school, lunch was spent at a local pizza joint where two-dollar slices were smothered in donair sauce. Now, donair sauce is but a faint memory. Sure, if I happen to indulge in some greasy garlic fingers, there’s always the non-negotiable donair dipping sauce. Garlic fingers without donair sauce is a crime against humanity. Am I right?!

When I took to Facebook to ask folks about their love for donair sauce, they were pretty much staunch supporters. They’d never eat a donair without it and would most certainly turn their noses up at any tzatziki imposter. Donair lovers, this one’s for you.