Despite our diligent gastronomic research before heading to Stockholm, we had never heard of the kebab pizza. That’s quite a surprise, really, since it turns out to be one of the most popular pizza choices in Sweden. Unlike other seminal food inventions (the hamburger comes to mind), no one has come forward to claim authorship. Apparently, the kebab pizza just sort of happened.

Chalk one up for open borders and a national policy of welcoming immigrants. When new Swedes from the Middle East and the Balkans began to flood into the country in the 1980s, many of them followed the time-tested immigrant entrepreneurial path of opening up fast food joints. Many of those spots served both kebabs and pizza. It was only a matter of time before gastronomic miscegenation took hold and someone thought to mash up the two cuisines.

We couldn’t picture the dish but we were curious when we found the characters in a current Swedish novel eating it every time they went on a date. Once we ordered one, it made instant sense. Thin slices of kebabs on top of a pizza were no weirder than slices of pepperoni. And it was decidedly less adventurous than some of the things Swedes apparently like on pizza — like peanuts, raisins, bananas, tuna fish, and even curry. (For the record, we did not encounter pickled herring pizza.)

Chasing down a classic kebab pizza

Aficionados advise seeking out a modest neighborhood restaurant rather than a fancy Italian-themed pizzeria in a tourist area. If it flies the Italian flag, boasts a wood-fired oven, and brags about its Neapolitan roots, chances are the place won’t deign to serve kebab pizza. So that’s exactly what we did one Sunday afternoon as we ambled toward the Hornstull flea market in Stockholm’s Sodermalm neighborhood. An Italian red-white-green awning caught our eye. Right on the front, emblazoned in English, it said ‶Grill Kebab & Pizza.″ That was about the last English we could use, but by pointing and smiling we managed to order a kebab pizza from Hornsgatans Pizzeria & Kebab (Hornsgatan 62, tel: 8 641 15 90, hornsgatanspizzeria.se).

The man who made the pizza was a wizard. He stretched and rolled the dough by hand, pulling it over the edge of a counter until it was almost thin enough to see through. (The Middle Eastern roots were showing here. The dough treatment was very much like Armenian or Turkish lahmajun.) He swirled tomato sauce and sprinkled cheese in big circular motions. The dough went into the oven for maybe 90 seconds. When it came out, he immediately covered the surface with thin slices of kebab (probably beef, maybe lamb). At the salad station, he piled on chopped lettuce, thin tomato wedges, slices of red onion, and a few very hot pickled pepperoncini. The finishing touch was a swirling squirt of a yogurt sauce — almost a salad dressing.

It might not have been the easiest pizza to eat, but it was delicious. No wonder it’s taken Sweden by storm.