Kebab (Κεμπάπ) in Greece is the ground-meat skewer: seasoned minced meat, beef or lamb or pork, worked until it binds, formed by hand around a flat skewer, and grilled over coals. The angle worth holding is that this is a different animal from the cubed skewer and from the Middle Eastern kebab it shares a name with. The defining work is in the mince itself. The meat is kneaded until the proteins tighten and the mix turns tacky, which is what lets it cling to the skewer over fire without sliding off or crumbling into the coals. The Greek seasoning is its own profile, leaning on oregano, onion, garlic, and cumin rather than the spice register found further east.
The build is a sequence of small decisions, all of them upstream of the grill. The meat needs enough fat, roughly a fifth to a quarter, or it grills dry and tight. It is mixed with grated onion, garlic, oregano, cumin, and salt, then kneaded firmly and rested cold so it sets and holds shape. Formed in a long even cylinder around a flat skewer, thin enough to cook through before the outside burns, it goes over hot coals and is turned to build a dark crust on every face while the center stays juicy. Done well, a Greek kebab shows a hard charred exterior, a moist interior that holds together when bitten, and the oregano-cumin-onion seasoning reading clearly through the smoke. The failure modes are unforgiving: undermixed meat that splits and falls off the skewer, too lean a blend that cooks to a dry crumble, or a cylinder rolled too thick so the outside chars black before the inside is done.
It shifts mainly by meat. Lamb runs richer and gamier; pork eats sweeter and is the everyday Greek choice; a beef-and-lamb blend splits the difference, and each protein reading is distinct enough to stand on its own rather than being crowded in here. How it is served shifts it again: off the skewer with bread, onion, and lemon it is one thing; pulled into a warm pita with tomato, onion, and tzatziki it becomes the wrapped sandwich, which is its own preparation. What stays constant is the mince logic: enough fat, kneaded until it binds, seasoned the Greek way, formed thin, and grilled hard so the crust forms before the center dries.