Kebab Keves (קבב כבש) is the lamb version of the grilled minced-meat skewer, the traditional form most grill cooks treat as the baseline against which a beef kebab is the substitution. The angle is the fat. Lamb carries more of it and carries it with flavor, so a lamb kebab self-bastes on the fire and arrives gamey, rich, and juicy in a way a lean beef one has to work for. That same fat is the risk: too much, or a fire too slow, and it weeps out into a greasy stick instead of basting the meat from inside. The sandwich lives on getting that balance right so the kebab reads deep and moist rather than fatty and heavy.
The build is short and the grind is most of it. Lamb is ground, often shoulder for its fat, and worked with grated onion, chopped parsley, and a warm spice line that leans to the meat: cumin, coriander, allspice or seven-spice, sometimes a little cinnamon, paprika, or sumac. The mix is kneaded enough to bind so it grips a flat metal skewer, then pressed into an even sausage and grilled hot over coals so the surface chars fast while the fat renders inward. Heat management is the test, hot enough to set a crust quickly, not so slow that the fat just leaks. A good kebab keves shows a dark savory crust, a moist tight interior, and the lamb's flavor carrying clearly under the spice rather than being buried by it. A sloppy one is dry where the fat ran out before the crust set, or greasy and slack where it never charred, or so heavily spiced that the lamb itself is lost.
As a sandwich it goes into pita or rolled in laffa, slid off the skewer and dressed with the standard grill-house cast: chopped Israeli salad, pickles, tahini, s'chug or amba for heat, often fries alongside. The lamb's richness changes how the supports read, the tahini and the sharp salad cut it where with a leaner beef kebab they mostly add. It varies first by the cut and fat ratio of the lamb and the spice hand, and second by how it is served, on the skewer with bread on the side or already stuffed into the pocket. The pure beef form and the mixed beef-and-lamb meurav are close relatives that each read differently and deserve their own treatment rather than a footnote here. What stays constant in the lamb version is the demand its fat makes: enough heat and enough timing that the kebab comes off the fire moist and savory, the richness an asset the bread frames rather than a grease the bread has to absorb.