I must start with a dire warning for all men out there.  Carine at The Emirates Golf Club is possibly the worst restaurant in Dubai for a date.  Maybe even for relationships as a whole.  Once your partner finds out that Chef Izu named the restaurant after his wife, all your efforts will be compared to this, and you will be found wanting.  Here I was offering to go Dutch on the bill, and this chap over here just named a restaurant after his wife.  Thanks, Izu.

I purposely said nothing to The Serb about this little fact in the hope that her usual levels of culinary curiosity remained at the, “do they have burgers?” level.

We arrived to a couple of smiling, friendly hostesses.  After giving our reservation, the hostess quickly checked her computer screen and then exclaimed with quite some surprise, “we have your table ready!”  It was delivered with such infectious enthusiasm that we virtually skipped through the restaurant to our table.  Well, I did.  The Serb had a bit more dignity and maintained a safe distance in front of me.

We sat at a table laid out with a simple linen table runner, with wooden handled knives and forks.  A large cloudy olive oil bottle loomed over the salt and pepper grinders and a bright yellow lemon added a splash of Mediterranean colour.  The similarities to LPM’s table set up cannot be avoided – even the salt and pepper shakers are the same.  The only thing missing is the tomatoes.  However, in LPM, the purpose of these table fruit remains a mystery as no-one ever attempts to explain their purpose to the guest.

Here at Carine, the waiter makes a wonderful little olive oil and balsamic dressing right at your table.  He sliced the lemon and squeezed it into the dressing, explaining that the lemon was flown in from Scilly and therefore wasn’t as bitter as the usual lemons.  I had visions of our lemon sitting in Emirates business class, headphones on, watching ICE and all the other lemons in economy, fighting over armrest space, getting more and more bitter.

Carine is an attractive and charming bistro with an open kitchen counter and French/Mediterranean styling.  The lighting is spot on, and there is a great feel to the room.  It is classical, yet youthful.  Retired couples (do they exist in Dubai?) playing golf would feel as comfortable here as a young power-hungry DIFC banker. (Do they still exist in Dubai?)

The staff are busy but efficient, knowledgeable and happy to engage in conversation.  The manager came over and introduced herself, welcoming us to Carine.  The Serb was very pleased with this, as we rarely get a manager to our table, preferring low-key meal experiences.  Unfortunately, this is where the manager decided to let the cat out of the bag and explained why the restaurant was called Carine.  The Serb, to her credit, waited at least 45 seconds before bringing it up.  “Izu named this restaurant after his wife?  That’s lovely,” she said, as she ripped apart an innocent piece of bread.  If I can translate that, I think she really meant, “Watch it, buddy – you better step up your game.”

We quickly ordered the Tarte Flambée and the Duck Confit Quinoa Salad to start followed by the Rigatoni with Beef Ragout and the Lamb Saddle.

Written in French, with English translation, the menu has hints of Le Petite Maison, but to make any further comparisons would do no justice to Carine’s menu.  In my opinion, it is better than LPM’s in almost every way.  It is classic, yet modern. It has substance but is light.  While LPM’s is built on tradition and nostalgia, Carine’s menu seems young, relevant and forward-looking. It is a Generation Z menu to LPM’s Baby Boomer menu.  It is resplendent with elevated bistro food – from fish to lamb to veal, where Mediterranean spices such as harissa and sumac live in harmony with Périgueux Sauce and Ratatouille.

The duck salad arrived along with the tarte flambée – onion tart.  Both were excellent, but the winner was the onion tart because, well, quinoa is quinoa and that only takes you so far.  Slow-cooked onions as soft as they were sweet, sat on a lightly baked flatbread crust with cherry tomatoes and dollops of sour cream.  The sweetness of the onions was balanced out by the sour cream, and the contrast came together wonderfully. It was a dish that got better with every single bite.

I think The Serb only ordered the Rigatoni with ragout because it was the closest thing to a burger (i.e beef) on the menu and also because it was the only dish she recognised amongst all the French.  However, I am delighted she did, because it was the surprise dish of the year so far for me.  It is a credit to Izu’s understanding of flavours that a simple meal can elicit such complexity from such humble ingredients.  It was umami heaven, layered with flavour, depth, and character.  It was superb, and I don’t use that word lightly.  You must try it.

The lamb was prepared with skill and finesse.  Cooked perfectly, it was tender and packed with flavour.  The parsnip puree took the potato impersonating vegetable to a whole new level.  Creamy, almost sweet in taste, it was a great support and balance to the savory lamb.

The manager came over to inquire about the food.  In her enthusiasm for her restaurant, she let another cat out of the bag.  She explained the olive oil on the table is from Izu’s private olive grove in Greece.  I closed my eyes.  Of course, he owns an olive grove.  I own a souvenir meteorite stone in a little plastic box.  A rock that came from out of space.  That’s just as impressive.  The Serb looked at me but said nothing.  Sometimes that’s even more dangerous.  I just hope she never finds out he sells his olive oil under the retail name Theo, which is his son’s name.

We decided to skip dessert, much to my relief – mainly because I was terrified that the manager would come back and tell us another amazing fact about Chef Izu.

Carine is a triumph.  A brilliant example of Chef Izu’s mastery of simple ingredients with fresh Mediterranean flavours.  The service was personable and charming, and the setting is casual, refined and modern.  I wholeheartedly recommend Carine and genuinely look forward to returning.

As we got home, I asked The Serb if she wanted some tea.
“Yes,” she replied, and then muttered under her breath, “he named a restaurant after his wife.”

Thanks, Izu.

Dinner for two – 418.01 Dhs
Carine
Emirates Golf Club
04 2482152

Travel and food have been the hot couple for a few years now.  They have spurred a whole genre of storytelling, from significant production shows like Parts Unknown and Ugly Delicious, all the way through to someone who once tried a Pastéis de Nata at Faro airport and is now a travel and food blogger with a profile that reads “Wanderer. Thinker. Eater.”

It’s no wonder that restaurants are now incorporating this combination of epicurean escapism into their offerings.  The newly rebranded Brunswick at MOE is launching Charlie’s Brunch, which in the 1980’s would have meant something completely different, but now means that Charlie Lane, who is a traveling expat, brings back flavours and stoires from his travels and serves them at brunch.  Another example is Miss Tess at The Taj hotel; a traveler who is here to take you on a journey through the street foods of South East Asia.

This leads me to my most recent restaurant excursion to Dubai Mall.  Going to Dubai Mall in itself is a journey, especially if you commit to exploring the newly opened Fashion Avenue.    Somewhere in Dubai Mall is a travel café, that serves modern Levantine plates.  I’m not being vague and facetious – Somewhere is the name of the place.  Emirati owned, from the same group as Parker’s and Salt, Somewhere takes its inspiration from a newsstand, which is synonymous with travel hubs – train stations, airports, bus stops, valet parking and the like.  As you walk in there is a neon light saying “Let us take you somewhere.”  I whispered to the Serb that I wasn’t falling for that line again.  Last time I fell for that, it ended with a trip across international borders with two strangers and a small goat.

We arrived early and were seated right away in an almost empty restaurant.  Opposite us was a half wall of shelves.  Stacked with books.  The type of books that sit on the coffee tables of those friends who, at all times, maintain a pristine, picture perfect living room, just in case Architectural Digest pop by for a quick photo shoot on a Wednesday afternoon.

I asked if the books were for sale because at that moment I had an overwhelming urge to own an unnecessary collection of beautiful, oversized picture books that I would maybe look at once.  Luckily for my credit card, they were not for sale, and I sat back down again in a dramatic huff.  I was going to be so embarrassed if AD came calling.

Somewhere’s menu is Levantine at its core, with some fresh twists that liven up a familiar offering.  The dishes are all quite shareable and “mezze-like” in their make-up, which is why Somewhere has more of a café feel than a restaurant.  It actually is a well-conceived concept for the new fashion district and a good place to refuel after your Hermes shop and before heading into Prada.  It isn’t such a big commitment to eat at Somewhere – it is easy and accessible.

We went with the chicken musakhan rolls, lime corn salad, chicken shawarma bao, the chicken ouzi puff and the zaatar and cheese cones.

As we waited for our food, the place quickly filled up with local families, and I’ve heard it already has somewhat of a cult following among the Emirati foodie crowd.  There was, however, an expat couple in the corner, who might have been Miss Tess and Charlie Lane discussing brunch strategies.

The music was notable too – artists like Alina Baraz and Galimatias providing excellent energy to the place and the staff were approachable and attentive also.

The interior design is clean and uncluttered and what I call the “Millennial Instagram” style.  Grey walls, marbled grey table tops, clean archways and pendant lights.  It is not of any particular place, which I think is the whole point.  It is somewhere.  Anywhere.  I would have liked to see some global accessories and trinkets from around the world built into the décor – I think they tell a better story than a few travel books.

The food arrived in no particular order, and each dish was bright, lively, fresh and modern.  The musakhan chicken rolls paid homage to its namesake, the Palestinian dish and were fragrant and well spiced.  The chicken shawarma bao was a good effort, but the shawarma is such a difficult food item to reinvent.   The winner was the chicken ouzi puff.  An oversized vol en vent, stuffed with delicious, soft, slippery spiced rice with chicken and roasted pine nuts.  A thick, umami gravy accompanied the dish.

They also brought a chicken jalapeno fatteh to our table as well, although we didn’t order it.  I ate it before they realised their mistake.  I was unapologetic about it – it was delicious.

The Serb had claimed she wasn’t particularly hungry.  However, she demolished most of the dishes and still had a look at the dessert menu.

Somewhere is a cute little café that serves some delightfully fresh Levantine dishes that are great as a light bite while in the mall.  If you find yourself with nowhere to go in the new Fashion Avenue, I can recommend Somewhere.

Somewhere
Fashion Avenue
Dubai Mall
04 3295182

Lunch for two – 243 AED

Although El Mostacho sounds like a movie directed by Robert Rodriguez, starring Danny Trejo, it is, in fact, a taqueria or taco shop in JLT, run by Isaac Mendoza and the Bystro group.  Isaac and his brother used to run La Taqueria in Business Bay, arguably Dubai’s best taco joint.  When they closed their doors last year, there was a taco shaped hole in the city’s culinary fabric.

Admittedly, I didn’t know it was Isaac’s new place when I went there for a quick lunch one afternoon and had to stop myself from giving him a hug when I saw him.  You have to be so careful these days about unwanted affection.  Apparently, Netflix has created a policy that says you can’t stare at anyone for longer than 5 seconds otherwise it’s harassment.  They should never film in Deira.  Anyway, I digress.

As a restaurant, El Mostacho is about as big as a mustache.  Taking over a tiny sliver of the Silver Tower, in Cluster I, El Mostacho has nearly enough seats for the Mexican football team squad.  The seven-a-side team, not the full squad.  It is just like a taco stand from Baja California, where you perch against a counter and grab a quick taco or a bowl of tortilla soup.  It is welcoming and intimate, with no pretence or agenda except to serve excellent tacos and burritos.

The décor is fun and straightforward, and even the menu encourages you to not take life too seriously.  The space looks like they raided an old Tijuana travel agency.  There are posters, plates, and textiles on all the walls advertising the beautiful country of Mexico.  On the countertops are Mexican recipes books, Calaca figurines, little ceramic cacti and trompos – little toy spinning tops.  It is cheerful and uplifting.

Globally, Mexican food has unfortunately been somewhat high jacked by hipster food truckers, serving line caught fish tacos with sriracha and deep fried crushed kale.  They have become pretentious, complicated and a slave to the “Gram.”

Luckily, El Mostacho has stayed true to their origins, and their menu is small, traditional and authentic.  Tortilla soup, burritos and tacos, a couple of drinks and some guac.  There’s your menu, and that’s all you need.  We ordered the guac and chips, a couple of burritos and a couple of tacos.  Isaac served us, but the kitchen was right there, and we could have just called our order out to his brother directly.

The barbacoa burrito is like a big warm, familiar hug.  The soft flour tortilla wrapped tightly around slow-cooked shredded beef, with rice, beans, lettuce, salsa and melted cheese.  I’m pretty sure that’s all the food groups you need.  There is something deeply comforting about a soft, warm, thick burrito.

Then came the tacos.  I want to talk about the taco tortilla for a minute.  The tortilla is the vessel from which you create the taco, and you don’t just decide one day to start making perfect tortilla.   The Mexicans have been making tortilla since before they were even Mexican.  Their understanding of corn and its characteristics are legendary, passed down from generation to generation.  A real corn tortilla is a dull yellow and smells like fields and crushed corn kernels.  It tastes like artistry and legacy.  El Mostacho’s tortillas are home-made and guaranteed it’s a recipe his mother got from her mother and so on.

El Mostacho’s tacos are the real deal.  Home-made corn tortilla, filled with marinated grilled meats with radish, cilantro, and pickled red onions.  They are little envelopes of hope, consumed in about three delicious bites.  The Carne Asada was better than the Pollo taco, but that’s like saying Messi is better than Ronaldo.  Either one would make your fantasy football team.  But Messi is better.  Except at penalties.  However, neither are very good at paying taxes.

The service is Isaac, who is always four steps away from any point in the restaurant.  He is genuine and friendly and cares deeply about your enjoyment of his food.  I mentioned in my review of La Taqueria that it was like going around to your friend’s house and El Mostacho has the same vibe.  It is chilled, informal and heartfelt.

I genuinely don’t think a city is complete without a place like El Mostacho.  I suggest you stop by and support your friendly neighbourhood taco place as soon as you get the chance.  You won’t be disappointed.

El Mostacho
Ground Floor, Silver Tower
Cluster I, JLT
04 551 6679

Lunch for three – 180 Dhs

Tom and Serg in Al Quoz was a breath of fresh air for the Dubai casual dining scene, back in 2013, with their hipster cool staff, casual laid back attitude and solid food and beverage programs.  They blazed a trail for the rest of the casual dining market and set the standard in café culture, oiled beards and tattoo sleeves.

They also scored home runs with the next two places they opened, The Sum of Us and Common Grounds and all three cafes have their own distinct core following.  They introduced us to a crazy new drink called a flat white and turned all of us into coffee snobs.

Next came The Brunswick Sports Bar (Let’s forget about Muchaha and Uncle Jheff) which was an edgy, grown-up sports bar that had a certain confidence and panache.  I even wrote a review about it and I think I called it “an achingly retro sports bar with some modern-day upgrades on a backdrop of industrial décor.” It was original and classy and it’s safe to say I was and still am a bit of a fanboy of the Bull & Roo team.  If Bull & Roo made merchandise, I would totally buy it.

Therefore, I was surprised when I heard that The Brunswick had undergone a renovation and rebrand, just a couple of years after opening.

Walking in, the change is immediate – The New Brunswick is moody, darker and much more serious than its predecessor.  Black tables and chairs are scattered across the concrete floor and the kitchen and bar are clad with dark shiny subway tiles.  There are minimal accessories, and a several planters dotted around the space.  For me, it, unfortunately, lacked a story or premise.  I found it difficult to connect to the space and wasn’t sure what vibe I was picking up.  Bull & Roo always operate clearly defined concepts with strong storylines, but this reincarnation of Brunswick needed that famous magic dust they usually sprinkle on things.

There was no-one at the entrance to greet us, so we wandered around for a while and eventually grabbed a table in what they call their lifestyle eatery.  I don’t know what that means, I think it’s just a pompous dining room.

Eventually, we were handed two food menus, despite there being four of us, and had to ask for two more.  After several additional minutes, the waitress finally brought us two drinks menus.  I didn’t want to make a fuss as perhaps this whole sharing concept has evolved to include menus too.  We hot bedded the menus and worked out a page sharing system to speed things up.

The new menu takes itself very seriously.  There are dishes with things like sherry vinegar gel, cultured creams, and charcoal mayonnaise.  The menu comprises medium sharing, large sharing, and sides.  There are dishes like grilled quail and monkfish cheeks. The Serb asked quietly what the difference was between medium sharing and sides.  It was a good question. In a move that implies they perhaps are not so sure of their new menu themselves, they have also included party favourites such as bar bites, pizzas, and burgers.

I applaud them for pushing the boundaries, and the menu reminded me a little of Folly’s menu, by Nick and Scott, which is a compliment.  However, nothing really stood out for us, and no dish demanded our attention.  It might have helped if the service team had shown some enthusiasm, taken the time to explain the menu and sold us on a few dishes, but they could barely make eye contact with us, let alone conduct an engaging conversation about the new kitchen direction.

In the end, we went for the safe options and ordered all three burger choices and the Neapolitan pizza.  As we ordered the triple cream brie burger and the Shropshire blue burger, I felt my arteries thickening and my heart rate increase.  To counterbalance that, we also ordered the crispy grain burger, made up of lentils, quinoa, mushroom, buckwheat and other great things you would feed to a rabbit. A balance was restored, kind of.

The grain burger was surprisingly good and even more surprisingly turned out to be the star of the lunch.  The brie burger was severely undercooked and was inedible, and the blue burger barely passed the mustard.

Then came Pizzagate.  Our server quietly dropped a pizza into the middle of the table and made a quick getaway.  However, the Serb, when hungry, has all her senses heightened and noticed immediately that it was the wrong pizza.  Amazingly, the server also knew this and explained our pizza had been taken to the table next to us by mistake, but we could have this one instead.  The old switch and bait pizza trick.  We politely declined and said we would wait for the Neapolitan.  On the way back to the kitchen, the server tried to offload the unwanted pizza onto the original table, but they also declined, having rather enjoyed our pizza.  Rumour has it, that pizza is still trying to find a home today.

Our correct order eventually arrived, but by then the burgers had been eaten, and our whole meal experience had ceased to be.  To rub salt in the wound, the pizza was effectively raw dough with some luke-warm toppings and was unfortunately left uneaten.

The Brunswick Eatery Bar and Terrace has a long way to go to reach the high levels of the rest of Bull & Roo’s portfolio.  The food was a big let-down – burgers and pizza are not the hardest of food to get right.  However, more importantly, a few of the staff seriously let down the brand with their lack of customer care and attention to detail.  To their credit, the pizza was removed from the bill, but that is not a long-term solution for what they need to do to improve.

As we left, heartbroken and hungry, not a single member of staff attempted to say goodbye or even acknowledge our departure.  Bull & Roo, I still love you, but I’m going to stick to Common Grounds in the future.

Brunswick.  Eatery. Bar. Terrace.
Sheraton Hotel, MOE
056 4040685
Lunch for four – minus pizza – 399.00 AED

Akiba Dori is a new venue in D3, taking over the corner of Building 8.   Designed like a Tokyo street, Akiba is achingly cool, quirky and eclectic, in the way only Japanese pop culture can be.  It is for the young and the young at heart.  It blends gamification, music, food, and drinks effortlessly.  As you walk in, you enter what looks like a Tokyo street, with wet-finished cobblestones, neon lights and a Japanese bakery on your right.  There is a small arcade game room on your left and further down the street is the licensed bar and DJ booth.  At the very end is Tokyopolitan and their Japanese wood-fired pizza oven – our reason for waking up that morning.

The space is fun, quirky and original.  It’s not your conventional restaurant space – there is a lot going on, and because of that, it takes on the atmosphere of a fun, lively street party.    

You could easily film a Bollywood/J-Pop hybrid music video in Akida Dori.  You’d have to set off the sprinklers first of course, because you can’t have a Bollywood/J-pop music video without torrential rain. 

Mistakenly thinking that Akiba would be quiet on a weekend lunch, we walked into a buzzing restaurant filled with families and friends.   I was almost upset that so many people had found it already and for a minute thought they might actually be filming a music video there – which would have been awesome. 

We were greeted by a friendly member of staff, who gave the impression we should just sit wherever we felt like.  They didn’t seem big on formalities.  We sat halfway down the street, and our waitress brought us over their menu.  A single card with salads, Japanese street food, specials and baked goods on one side, and the other size dedicated to their Tokyopolitan pizzas. 

I’ve had the advantage of eating at Akiba Dori a couple of times now, but I’m not allowed to write about any restaurant unless The Serb is with me.  Contractually, it’s a mess, and I’d rather not talk about it.  I’m actually not allowed to talk about it. 

We ordered the Akiba rock shrimp with a spicy mayo sauce, some Akiba sliders, and a Margherita pizza.  The waitress explained that it’s a sharing restaurant and the food will come out when it’s ready.  I don’t know why restaurants still bother explaining this anymore.  At this point, restaurants should only highlight if it’s not sharing style.

As we were waiting for our food to arrive in a random order, we watched Chef Luigi stock his pizza oven with some more wood.  The Serb commented how delicate and careful he was with his oven.  I didn’t want to say it was probably because the oven was bloody hot, not because he felt spiritually connected to it.

Although, some do say if that Tokyopolitan’s oven ever goes cold, D3 will fall.

The sliders came in pairs, which is good because most sharing food comes in odd numbers which ironically makes sharing equally very difficult unless you are in an odd numbered J-pop band.  The sliders were not bad, but I’ve had better.  In a nod to their Japanese roots, they came with a sheet of nori and were sprinkled with panko breadcrumbs.  Both were un-necessary for me and were there just for the sake of it.  The bread was also a little too toasted and could have been softer.  Having said all that, the beef was of excellent quality, and the cheese was generous and melted perfectly. 

The Akiba rock shrimp are similar to your dynamite shrimp made famous in places like P.F Changs and Cheesecake.  Surprisingly, Akiba is cheaper than both of those places for this dish.  Our bowl arrived with a mountain of lightly battered shrimp glistening in a tangy mayo sauce.  Did I mention, it was a mountain of shrimp?  If the Marina Fisheries Department ever need to tackle overfishing of shrimp, the first person they should pull in is Akiba Dori’s chef.  The shrimp themselves were well cooked, the batter offering the slightest of crunch and the spicy mayo sauce coating your mouth with a velvety heat.  An excellent dish.

Then came the Margherita pizza.  A pizza, so important it came with its own table.  Also, because our table was full and the pizza didn’t fit.  NB: small tables and sharing menus don’t mix well. 

Tokyopolitan’s Margherita was up there with the best in town.  Chef Luigi is a born and raised Naples boy, formerly from Rossovivo, and has recently trained under one of Tokyo’s best pizza masters.  Our pizza was charred perfectly, and in true Neapolitan style, was soft, elastic, tender and fragrant.  Even with something as simple as the Margherita, there is a crescendo of flavours and smells happening, from the intense smell of baked dough to the slight hint of acid from the San Marzano tomatoes and mozzarella to the added saltiness of the crust.  From the subtle touch of fruit and spice from the olive oil to the grassy freshness brought by the basil leaves, there is so much to appreciate on something so simple.

We ended with their Dolce Luna dessert – vanilla ice-cream cooked in pizza dough drizzled with Nutella.  It sounds amazing, and I wish I could tell you how it tasted, but I can’t remember, because my subconscious has erased my experience of it as a protective defence mechanism.  You see, the Dolce Luna is the most phallic looking dish I’ve seen this side of Patpong.  Seven inches long, two inches in girth, with a controversial curve to it, this dish could star it its own movie.  Imagine sharing this with your boss. Or mother?!!  I can barely look the Serb in the eyes now, let alone anyone else. 

The superstar of Akiba Dori is their pizzas, they could easily compete with any pizzeria in Dubai.  The rest of the food is a collection of good and average, and I think there will be improvements and changes made as they go along and mature as a concept.  The alcohol license changes things for them, and with a bottle of grape coming in 99 dhs and a pint at 37 dhs, they seem to have got their pricing right.

The service is quite relaxed and casual – I can see them getting a little stretched when busy, but they are approachable and down to earth.  The vibe is what makes it – carefree, egalitarian and energetic.  I recommend you head down there and see for yourself.  You never know, they might be filming a Bollywood/J-pop music video.

Akiba Dori
D3, Building 8
04 770 7949
Lunch for Two – 230Dhs

Bao Wow, the Last Exit food truck concept has been upgraded into a full brick and mortar restaurant, in City Walk, no less. That’s like a conference division football team being promoted directly to the Premier League! No testing the market in a JLT or Barsha Heights, no growing brand awareness through a Deliveroo kitchen. No sir! Bao Wow went straight in at the deep end, like an over-enthusiastic toddler on their first day at the public pools.

As a food truck, Bao Wow sells steamed buns, primarily.  Bao Wow as a restaurant however, serves up traditional and modern dishes from across China, Japan, Korea, Singapore and Taiwan.  It has taken over the old Dragonfly location, which was headed up by Chef Tim Raue.  Unfortunately, Dragonfly didn’t last long – you can read my review of it here if you’re interested in reading about a restaurant that doesn’t exist anymore.

Apart from hiring a local graffiti artist to create colourful, urban artwork on the back walls, Bao Wow has done little else to the original fit out, making use of the same furniture and operating equipment.  They have also toned down the red, which was the signature colour of Dragonfly.   It was also the only colour, I seem to remember.

We walked into an empty restaurant and had our choice of where to sit.  The seating consists of two corridors, framing the perimeter of the square space, meaning everything is linear, and I struggled to grasp a sense of the place.  For me, the layout doesn’t encourage community or social connection.  If I was a Feng Shui master, I think my aura would have collapsed in on itself.

We were seated and our waitress, who was very nice and chatty, handed us a couple of iPads which had the menu preloaded onto them.  She didn’t take the time to explain how a humble food truck on a highway rest area made it to the Premier League, which was a shame.  Maybe she was still trying to find out herself.  This is a personal preference, but I dislike iPad menus.  The menu is an extension of a restaurant’s personality, and how it is laid out, what paper it is printed on, what colours and fonts are used, tells a lot about the restaurant and adds to the experience.  To swipe and pinch and zoom on a screen doesn’t allow me to connect with the restaurant on a deeper level, and that’s important to me because I am a Millennial.  If I had been a Baby Boomer, I think my aura would have collapsed in on itself.  The Serb was using her iPad to check her facebook.

We ordered the Peking duck and teriyaki chicken steamed buns, the chicken gyoza, the beef donburi and a Bao yasai side salad.

They had a sushi maki roll section as well, but ten minutes ago, they were a food truck, so I passed on them.

The food arrived staccato style, as and when it was ready with the salad being the first out of the gates.  It was a great salad – fresh mesclun greens with the snow fungus and mushrooms providing some great texture and some real sharpness coming in from the wafu dressing as well.

The steamed buns arrived, looking like little-stuffed clouds of deliciousness.  The duck was far too sweet for me though, and unfortunately, the meat lost all of its glorious umami.  We also both had to pick duck bones from our mouths as well.  The Serb was very lady-like about it and gracefully deposited said bone in a napkin with little fuss and drama.  However, I was a little more dramatic and acted as if someone has just tried to assassinate me, by waving my arms, coughing and generally spluttering unnecessarily.  Unfortunately, none of the staff were on our side of the seating corridor, so my antics went unnoticed.  Probably for the best.

The slaw in the teriyaki chicken bun was dripping with juices, ruining the structural integrity of the bun.  It was wet and sloppy, and not in a good way.  However, the taste was great, and if they can get the slaw right, you’ve got yourself a good steamed bun right there.

The chicken gyoza arrived in a modern steamer basket with some dry ice smoke for effect.  It was a gimmick that seemed forced and out of place and distracted me from what were actually very nice dumplings.  They were generously filled, had a good mouthfeel and more importantly, had excellent flavouring.

The donburi was the big winner for me.  A Japanese rice bowl with seared beef slices in a donburi broth.  Pak choi, kimchi, edamame and baby sweetcorn made up the rest of the toppings.  Sitting gently, right at the top, was a slow-cooked egg yolk that you broke, allowing the deep orange yolk to seep into the rice below.  It was a crescendo of flavours, comforting and filling.  All it was missing was a sparkler or something.

Despite not looking at the menu, the Serb had spotted the word Nutella and ordered the Nutella Dim Sum for dessert.  What arrived were two mini ice cream cones on a yellow neon plastic stand.  The dim sum were little single-bite pockets of chewy gyoza skin filled with Nutella.  Highly disappointing.  I felt the ice cream cones were there as an apology for the dim sum.

I think Bao Wow will learn some important lessons moving into the Premier League.  There is a big difference between a fast casual food truck concept and a fully fledged restaurant experience.  For me, despite a few sparks of excellence, there was not enough substance for this concept to be a winner just yet.  However, the Donburi was good and the pricing is sensible.

Bao Wow – City Walk
Lunch for two – 311 AED
04 3427044

In the 1920’s El Barrio Chino De La Habana or Havana’s Chinatown was the largest Asian neighbourhood in Latin America.  It was a bustling hub of Asian industry that housed laundries, pharmacies, theatres, grocery stores and of course, restaurants.

For forty years, these two cultures merged, and many Chinese culinary traditions, ingredients and techniques soon found their way into traditional Cuban cooking.

For forty years, chefs developed a new style of cooking, applying new flavours and creating new dishes that were the very best of Asia and Latin America.  Chino-Latino cuisine was born.

However, by the 1960’s this progression and innovation came to a grinding halt.  The Chinese left for America in their droves, ingredients dried up and culinary innovation and evolution became a distant memory.

Even today, unfortunately, the El Barrios Chino neighbourhood is just not relevant anymore – it is almost devoid of Chinese people, and there is little talk of the culture and passion the Chinese community once gave to these streets.

What is left is just the perfume of what it was.

But restaurant Asia De Cuba has not forgotten this moment in culinary history and strives to bring Chino-Latino cuisine to Dubai with the opening of their latest outpost in The Westin hotel.

Straight off the bat, let me say what a great fusion it is for a restaurant experience.  The varied and exotic flavours of the East, mixed with the sensuality and passion for life of Latin America.  It’s almost perfect, on paper.

To be honest, my knowledge of Havana and Cuba as a whole is limited to The Fast and The Furious 8 and the song, Havana feat. Young Thug by Camila Cabello.  However, in my mind, that makes me an expert.  I don’t know what else I would need to do to improve my understanding.

We were greeted by two young ladies at the door.  One of them asked us for our reservation details in the same way a worried doctor might ask his patient where it hurts.  We answered her, hoping for the best.  After consulting her computer screen for what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been a few seconds, she nodded to herself and turned to her colleague.

In a quiet tone, she suggested we get taken to table twenty three, like a physician sharing a grim diagnosis with her intern.  She looked back at us and smiled, “Enjoy your final evening,” I think she said.

We were whisked into the main dining room, where we were shown a booth that had a great view of the whole room.  We accepted it with enthusiasm and without fuss, being the perfect patients that we were.

The dining room is a double story space with dramatic foliage and waterfall murals that start on the ceiling and cascade down the walls like some special effect for the movie Inception.  I am sure after a few Cuba Libre it could get quite overwhelming and disorientating.  There is an abstract feature wall behind the bar and open kitchen that symbolises the turquoise waters of Cuba – probably inspired by Vin Diesel driving his Chevrolet Fleetline into the Havana harbour.

The decorative tiling used on the kitchen walls and the cocktail tables is more Levantine and Mediterranean in design than Latin American.  However, I’m pretty sure they were purchased in Dragon Mart, so maybe that’s the Chino side of the design coming through.

Overall it’s a nice room, but it had good bones to start with.  The space used to be where China Grill operated from, and you can still very much see the DNA of the original design.  Replacing vases with plants and adding some paint and wallpaper makes a big visual impact.  However, I worry that for regular China Grill clients, it will be seen as same, same, but different.

However, same same, but different didn’t stop Vin Diesel from making 8 Fast movies, so it shouldn’t stop Asia De Cuba either!

We looked through the menu and skipped quickly past the sushi section.  I’m at a stage in my life where if my sushi’s not hand-made by an 8th generation sushi master, born and raised in Japan, who is at least 95 years old, almost blind and prepares sushi by feel and emotion alone, then I’m not interested.  Call me picky.

Instead, we order the empanadas, fire and ice shrimp salad and chicharrones to start as sharing plates, and then the roast duck salad and short rib beef for mains.  The absence of any of the Serb’s favourite dishes triggers her need for alcohol, and she reaches for the drinks list.  It’s so much cheaper for us when restaurants have burgers on the menu.

Our server is attentive and plucky, having also worked for China Grill.  She clearly knew her way around the menu and was happy to answer any questions we had about the menu.

The room filled up steadily throughout the evening, although almost all of the guests asked to sit at another table from the one they were initially offered.  Unlike the Serb and I, who were grateful to still be alive at this stage.  It was like some weird game of musical chairs.  It’s a place to sit for a few hours, not a puppy you’re adopting.

Anyway, our waitress navigated the room wonderfully and brought us our first round of food.  The empanadas were stuffed with black beans and plantains and were good, except the dough was a little undercooked.

The Chicharrones are not the latest boy band from Cuba but are in fact small cubes of fried chicken (or pork) served with a great onion mojo and honey soy sauce.  The chicken was a touch dry, I think after spending too much time in the frying basket.  The sauce was great, however, and brought the dish to life.

Our fire and ice shrimp salad had deliciously confusing flavour.  It had this whole hot and sour thing going on, with the slightly pickled cabbage and cucumber contrasting against the sweetness of the watermelon.  The shrimp were well cooked, generous and mixed throughout the plate.

The roast duck salad seemed innocent enough until halfway through the first forkful, it sucker punches you with its spicy miso vinaigrette.  In a good way.  The duck meat was shredded and mixed in with the Chinese cabbage and red currants, with a nice combination of umami and vinegar – a good harmony.

The main event was the short rib vaca fritz, which literally translates as fried cow.  According to the menu, it was 48-hour adobo braised beef which should have rendered the meat beautifully tender.  However, I was left a little disappointed in that regard.  Beautifully presented, it was served with a great Asian BBQ glaze and a tasty chimichurri sauce but was let down by its chewiness.

Asia De Cuba is one of those legacy brands that seem to stand the test of time.  They opened way back in 1999 in London, and are still going strong almost twenty years later.

The Dubai outpost seems to have captured the spirit of Asia de Cuba, and the cooking is, for the most part, lively, fresh and flavourful. The ambiance on a weekend night was energetic and busy, but that was perhaps because no-one could decide where they wanted to sit.

A good recommendation for a fun night out.

Dinner for two – 482.00 AED
Asia De Cuba
Westin Dubai, Mina Seyahi
04 5117373

The Palestinian Table is not really a cookbook.  It is a profoundly intimate and emotional tour de force into one of the world’s most deeply complex cuisines, told through the beautiful narration of author Reem Kassis.  Such is the intimacy of the recipes it sometimes feels like you should slam the book closed and allow its privacy to remain intact.

But to keep this book closed would be a huge disservice to Palestinian cooking.   The Palestinian Table is a powerhouse of emotion – Reem takes us on a deeply personal journey of how hope, culture, and connection are intertwined with the past, present and future.

Jerusalem is a melting pot of foods, religion, and cultures and was where Reem Kassis, daughter of a Palestinian Muslim woman and Palestinian Christian man, spent her childhood.   A lot of her time was spent in the kitchens of her Aunts and Grandmother, watching them prepare and cook the most glorious family meals and it was in these formative years that, unknowingly, food and cooking seeped into her very essence.

In some places, Reem’s narrative is quite reflective and nostalgic, as if she is writing it for her younger self.  Then, in other places, her audience is clearly her future, her own daughters perhaps, as she looks ahead with hope and determination of what her cuisine can offer.  This sense is magically captured in her recipes and again is a reminder of how powerful a family dinner table can be – how powerful that notion of home is.

Reem is not a classically trained chef; this is a significant benefit as she approaches this book with enthusiasm and caution in equal measure.  Each recipe is a splendid result of all her mistakes and triumphs, and her skill in capturing family recipes, often unwritten, is to be applauded.  Working tirelessly with her mother to learn these family recipes, Reem would have to patiently explain that “adding flour until it’s soft like your earlobe” would not work in a cookbook as an instruction.  I actually beg to differ, but nevertheless, she would measure out the flour, allow her mother to take what was needed, and then measure the balance, to get accurate quantities.

Palestinian food takes on a complexity as deep as the region it is born from.  Palestinian food is as Palestine is – resplendent in flavour, culture, and emotion and is forgiving, inclusive and warm.  If nothing else, The Palestinian Table is a celebration of that.  Each recipe, like Palestine itself, is layered, so each addition brings more flavour and character, and the result is something that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The Palestinian Table is home to over 150 recipes from the Middle East mainstay, Labaneh drizzled with clean, fragrant olive oil, to Mansaf, a lamb and yogurt stew served when honouring your most important guests.  (Incidentally, a dish served to Reem’s family when visiting her husband-to-be’s family for the first time) The recipes take inspiration from the entire land from the mountains of Galilee to the valleys of the south, from the coast of Yaffa to the West Bank, in a beautifully styled book, equally at home on your kitchen table or your bedside table.

For the cooking purist, one of the most important phrases in this book is “A recipe will only get you so far.” The book is surprisingly forgiving to the amateur chef – no dish will be ruined by a slight miscalculation or a missing ingredient.  There is an acceptance, almost a challenge, to make these recipes in your own image.  Add that extra squeeze of lemon juice to your salad, or include yogurt in your tahini, if that’s how you like it.  This is how Reem’s recipes become your recipes, and how your recipes become part of your story and your journey.

As I sadly arrived at the end of the book, I felt that Reem had found the magical ingredient that made her grandmother’s cooking so famous back home.  She realizes that cooking by sight, sound, smell, touch, and emotion was the best way to do it.  Remember, a recipe can only get you so far.  Some call it a natural culinary talent; others call it intuition.   Reem’s grandmother’s village simply called it love.

The Palestinian Table, By Reem Kassis
Published by Phaidon 02 October, 2017
Available in BookWorld Dubai Mall & Virgin Mega store, Dubai Mall & Mall of Emirates

Phaidon is the premier global publisher of the creative arts with over 1,500 titles in print. They work with the world’s most influential artists, chefs, writers and thinkers to produce innovative books on art, photography, design, architecture, fashion, food and travel, and illustrated books for children.

I never thought I would say this, but I think Dubai needs more Masterbakers.

This is in no way throwing shade at the existing Masterbakers, but as a craft, it has not evolved in Dubai as much as it has across the globe.  Also, there are some excellent Masterbakers in some of the 5-star hotels, but they often play a supporting role in banquets, buffets and room service.

The Serb woke up wishing there was a local bakery serving fresh, warm baked goods, straight from the oven that we could have breakfast at.  By local, I think she literally meant downstairs in our kitchen as she seemed disappointed that we would have to leave the house.

With everyone distracted by the newly opened La Mer, I thought a quick trip to JBR’s Beach might be a quiet, pleasant way to spend a weekend morning.  Pleasant, it was, quiet it was not.  Dubai has a habit of stuffing more and more retail projects into densely populated areas of Dubai, and the Marina is no exception.  The new harbour construction is well underway, and with the tram, traffic and small diversions, it turns a quick trip for a relaxing breakfast into a road trip that almost requires overnight provisions and an extended mixtape playlist.

I know Bouchon Bakery has been open for a while, but the concept intrigues me because it is a partnership between Chef Thomas Keller, whose US restaurants have 7 Michelin Stars between them and Alshaya of Starbucks and Shake Shack franchise fame.

Bouchon Bakery has taken over the old Paradis Du Fruit location on The Beach Walk.  If you had never heard of it, you weren’t alone.  It made barely a ripple when it was open and closed just as quietly, unfortunately.

Bouchon Bakery has taken the space and utilized a light, Parisian inspired décor to pleasing effect.  There is a homely, whimsical and nostalgic feel to the place, without being overly forced or manufactured.  Quite an achievement for Alshaya, which I sometimes feel is a real estate company first and a retailer second.  The indoor palm trees added a hint of the exotic, and the traditional booths, globe lights, and brass detailing balanced the space out.  The bakery’s accordion doors were open, allowing the indoors outdoors, the Gulf’s cool morning air bringing a subtle Californication to the whole experience.

The bakery choices are unfortunately a little bit too familiar, but that is to be expected as Bouchon was created in the image of the famous traditional boulangeries of France.  Viennoiserie such as strawberry croissants and pain au chocolate, almond croissants and blueberry muffins are also familiar mainstays of other bakeries across Dubai as well.  However, where Keller hints at some creativity is to give space to some lessor known bakes, such as Monkey Bread, Streusel Cake, and Cheese Danish.

I’ve watched enough GBBO to know that climate and humidity can greatly affect the consistency and quality of the bake and I’ve heard Dubai’s kitchens are notoriously difficult to work in when it comes to proving, rising and baking.

The Serb wanted the BLTE, and so did I.  I said we couldn’t order the same thing, especially if we are doing a review.  So, after a brief discussion, I magnanimously changed my order to the Croque Madame.  Having won that standoff, the Serb then changed her order to the chicken salad pretzel sandwich.

I also ordered three pastries as well.  For research purposes of course.  Pain du chocolat for direct market comparison, a lemon currant scone, and streusel cake to test the skills of the kitchen. Call me Mr. Hollywood.

Service was satisfactory, but I almost forgot to even mention it, such was the perfunctory nature of the overall engagement of the staff.  That’s the big question, can a huge franchisor pull off “local community” service? Answers on a postcard.

The Croque Madam – two slabs of brioche with slivers of turkey ham and cheese, topped with a fried egg and drowned with sauce Mornay.  Sauce Mornay is a béchamel sauce with cheese added.  Some argue that extra egg yolks and mustard seed should be included, and I feel this dish would have benefited from that particular recipe.  The sauce was quite thin, pale and very mild in flavour.  I missed the gentle punch that a cheese like Gruyère should have provided.  If a cheese was in the sauce, I missed it.  I would also mention that the brioche was probably a 1/8 of an inch too thick, but I won’t because I don’t want to nitpick.

The Serb’s pretzel chicken sandwich arrived, and she announced that pretzel bread is her most favourite bread ever.  I wanted to mention that this was the first time I’ve ever seen her eat pretzel bread in my life.  Instead, I just nodded encouragingly and popped a piece of brioche into my mouth, thankful for its thickness.  However, the pretzel bread was excellent – the softness of the bake, the chew of the crust, the sweet-salty flavour all came together.  The roast chicken filling was mixed with cranberries and pecans in a yogurt dressing.  A really pleasant sandwich.

The three pastries arrive on a wooden board topped and tailed by small pots of butter and jam.  Their quality was undeniable.  The chocolate in the pain au chocolat was generous and premium, elevating this staple croissant to the higher echelons of Viennoiseries.

The winner for me was the lemon currant scone – a tangy sweet scone that was firm, yet broke away into satisfying chunks, ready to be generously smeared with lightly salted soft butter. It was buttery and soft, with small nuggets of chewy currants interspersed throughout and a freshness that only lemons can bring.  I could have eaten eight more.

The streusel cake was also surprisingly good – less sweet than it’s associates, quite delicate with a subtle layer of cocoa running through it like a geographical fault line.  It also tasted great smeared with butter, but then again, most things do.

As for the coffee, perhaps go elsewhere – it’s not their strength.

Chef Keller has left some excellent recipes with the kitchen team here in Dubai, and several months in, they are still executing it very well.

I think Bouchon Bakery has gone a long way to filling that gap of good quality European style bakeries and I look forward to them providing a good alternative to Paul’s in a few more locations. However, can they fit into that local micro-community space? I’m not so sure.

Having said that, I wouldn’t mind if there was a box of lemon currant scones in my kitchen every morning, and we all know how much The Serb loves pretzel bread. It’s her favourite apparently.

Breakfast for two – 197.40 AED
Bouchon Bakery
The Beach
04 441 90772