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Where are we then? We’ve driven past metalworks, a jet-ski repair shop, some kind of building fabricator and it’s not feeling like food paradise. Campbellfield’s industrial backblocks are quiet in the evenings and factories hulk and loom. But come upon Miksa and you’ll see lights strung in festive waves, a golden glow shimmering in curls of smoke haze. You’ll smell fat-splashed embers, too: the signs are good.

Miksa Food Truck is the latest project from Ismail Tosun, a Turkish chef of some renown. He made waves in Perth at Eminem in the mid-2000s, opened Gigi Baba in Collingwood, which burned briefly and brightly from 2008, and was a co-founder of Middle Eastern bakery cafe Babajan.

In an effort to simplify his offering and his life, Tosun now runs a food truck in the northern suburbs, initially in Somerton and now here in Campbellfield.

Tosun is modest when I call to chat kebabs – “they’re just sandwiches” – but there’s no undermining the heritage and quality that goes into his simple, satisfying food. Tosun channels his Turkish father, his Cypriot mother, and her parents, who largely brought him up. It’s the streets of Istanbul and Adana, the busy kitchens of Nicosia, and the workaday appetite of Campbellfield manifesting five days a week.

The menu is short: six kebabs ($18-$23) and four non-alcoholic drinks. It’s probably Tosun’s daughter, Tali, who will take your order.

Adana kebab is a benchmark in Turkish street food: spiced lamb mince, fat and red capsicum are mixed into a tacky paste that’s formed onto skewers and cooked over charcoal. There’s a keen eye on tradition but Melbourne modifications, too. Tail fat moistens the meat in Turkey, but Australian sheep’s tails are docked early, so Tosun uses rib fat instead. Back home, the kebab is usually served with fat-moistened flatbread. Tosun stuffs it into a crusty white roll and piles on a salad of barbecued tomatoes and bullhorn peppers. Sumac-strewn red onions join the flavour party.

Ciger (lamb’s liver) is expertly grilled, again interspersed with rib fat. It’s firm and bright, an easy way in for offal doubters.

Eating fish in bread on the street is as essential an Istanbul experience as a visit to Hagia Sophia Mosque. The Miksa version is snapper in a roll, dressed with house-made tahini sauce. I’m glad it’s getting warmer and I can wear short sleeves because I’ll happily chase this drippy condiment down my forearm.

Miksa is no-frills. Everything is served in cardboard boxes for taking away, eating in the open air or a little gazebo.

Thirsty? Ayran yoghurt drink goes down well with kebabs, as does salgam, a salty fermented beverage made from purple carrots and turnips.

Tosun is right: his kebabs are just sandwiches. But a crusty roll stuffed with good things, even – or especially – in a suburban backlot, can reach towards the sublime.