On the 72nd floor, just a short elevator ride away from the many awards of Weslodge lives Morah, the latest restaurant from the same group.  There are two other international locations of Morah – one in Miami and the other in Toronto.

Across the pond, they are known as Byblos restaurant, but changed their name to Morah in Dubai, because there are about one billion Byblos named businesses already registered here.

Just an FYI – JW Marriott has a lot of elevators.  A lot.  Just be careful, I’ve heard of people missing their reservations because they underestimated the complexity of the JW Marriott elevators.

Our table was in the corner of the room, a banquet bench up against the window.  The banquet was seemingly made up entirely of cushions, of which our hostess had to remove 15 of them so I could sit down.  She whisked them off to the cushion cupboard somewhere.

Morah claims they are inspired by the flavours of the eastern and coastal Mediterranean.  However, if Chef Stuart was completely honest with himself, he would probably agree on being Levantine or Middle Eastern.

The menu is populated with caraway and saffron, halloumi and figs.  There is Dukkah and olive oil, pomegranate, tahini, za’atar, and lentils.  There is a heavy Levantine influence on this menu, and the Mediterranean label is a little misleading.

In Miami, I get that the whole eastern Med tagline works.  Menus of Middle Eastern cuisine probably stir up equal measures of confusion and wide-eyed panic.  The shawarma is possibly the only Middle Eastern dish that’s known, and that’s only because Tony Stark ate one at the end of the Avengers movie.

But over here, in the land of Shawarmas, we know a Middle Eastern inspired menu when we see one.  So, Morah, let’s call a shawarma a shawarma, shall we?

Our waiter was super helpful, attentive and on the ball.  However, he struggled a little with some of the ingredient questions.  When asked what was in the homemade Turkish paste, he replied, “Turkish, tomato and paste.” I suppose he’s not wrong but I don’t think he’s fully right either.

He also guided us to a hugely inappropriate amount of food after explaining how much he could eat off the menu just by himself.  Little did we realize he must have the appetite of a fully-grown bull elephant and the metabolism of a cheetah.

When Navigate Design came up with the wonderfully eclectic Weslodge design, they created an astonishing blend of Rock and Roll meets Ralph Lauren. Couple that with the food and service, and the awards came flying in – and deservedly so.

With Morah, they haven’t quite been as successful. On paper, Morah should be a very good looking restaurant – Miami chic with a touch of Palm Springs, some Cuban vibes and a hint of 1920’s art deco. However, in person, the space falls a little flat – the colours don’t pop, and I’ve been informed the restaurant works better in daylight.

Morah lives at the very top of the JW Marriott hotel. Directly above you is the moon.  It is spread over two floors, with a grand circular staircase feature in the middle of the room with a large chandelier linking the two floors.  The room was dark – too dark, and our waiter had to stand next to us, like a watchman with a lantern so we could see the menu.  Add all the cushions around me and I felt like a Lord in Middle England, reading a missive from the King by candle light in the great hall. I felt like bellowing, “Take this food order to your master, and be fleet of foot, my good man!”

I didn’t say that, obviously.

After much deliberation, we eventually ordered roasted red beets and the duck kibbeh to start. We also went with a creamed spinach pide and followed up with some 48 hour short ribs and the black cod.  Just in case that wasn’t enough, we also ordered the roasted Brussel sprouts and the fried rice.

Had the baby beets been any younger, they would have been mistaken for cranberries at the local market.  Having said that, they were finely textured, tender and partnered very well with the pistachio and caraway labneh.

The duck kibbeh with dried fig, date molasses and tahini sounded better on the menu than it tasted in the mouth.  Unfortunately, the flavour of the duck was lost over the heady spices of the kibbeh mix. There is nothing sadder than a lost duck.

The pide was long and slender, with a good balance of spinach, garlic sauce, and a fragrant dukkah spice mix.  It was cooked well, but the two cheese pide at Ruya still wins it for me.

The black cod arrived in five little parcels wrapped in vine leaves.  I wasn’t sure if I should unwrap them or eat them as presented. I tried both methods. Unwrapping them was like opening a very anticlimactic Christmas present, and leaving them wrapped meant far too much leaf.  Grief or Leaf – those were the choices.  The fish itself was well cooked and flaked off in large succulent pieces, but the overall effect of the dish was lost on me.

In contrast, the short ribs were great– sweet and sticky from the carob molasses, and tender umami flesh almost dissolved in your mouth, leaving the crunchiness of the onion bhaji topping.

What were also great were the Brussel sprouts. Surprisingly great, actually. Crunchy, flavourful and with an amazing char. They were served with little cubes of halloumi and some tahini yogurt that provided a delicious saltiness to the vegetable. Remember kids, at Morah, Brussel sprouts are not just for Christmas.

As I looked around the room, I spotted a famous Dubai food critic in the far corner. She didn’t notice me, luckily, as I was wearing my usual trench coat, sunglasses, and fake mustache.

The Serb did her usual trick of leaving most of her mains, claiming she was full, then ordering dessert.  She went with the homemade Nutella ice cream, which was excellent and the white chocolate and pistachio ice cream which was not.

Overall, I think Morah does a pretty decent job. I think they do need to own their obvious Levantine menu leanings and get their positioning right, and they will always have to fight to be heard above the noise of Weslodge, but overall they have a slick product.

The music was good, service was on point, and the food generally was strong, but for me, if Weslodge was M. Night Shyamalan’s The 6th Sense, then Morah is his The Village.  Still very good, but not as good as the first one.

Just a final note.  JW Marriott is the only hotel where eating a three-course meal is quicker than waiting to collect your car.  Next time I go, I will give them my valet ticket, go have dinner and then be back in time for the car to arrive. #firstworldproblems

Morah Restaurant

72nd Floor, JW Marriott

04 560 1799

Dinner for 2 – AED 658.96 (don’t know where the .96 came from!)

When I suggested to the Serb that we go to Black Tap, she pulled a face and said she didn’t want to go see some German heavy metal rock band.  By the time I had explained Black Tap was actually a burger bar out of New York, she was already in the car – makeup on and engine running.  She loves burgers.

A word of warning – Black Tap doesn’t take any reservations, so there’s a risk to jumping in the car on a weekend night without the security of a confirmed booking.  Such peril doesn’t deter me – even as I get older; I remain carefree, reckless and willing to take chances.  That’s just how I am, always flirting with danger.

We walked into a busy, noisy and energetic restaurant with neon signs, faux strip lighting, polished concrete flooring and subway tiling.  Add some R&B and Jay-Z, and you have a uber urban space that screams New York, New York.  The place was busy, but luckily, there was a table available almost immediately.  I whispered “See, fortune favours the brave,” to the Serb as we were led to our table.  I could tell she was impressed with my cavalier attitude.

Black Tap is right next to Il Borro, at the turtle sanctuary, Jumeirah Al Naseem hotel.  It’s difficult to illustrate the contrast between the elegant, posh Il Burro and the rambunctious Black Tap.  The only way I can explain it is, if a waiter from Black Tap fell in love with a waitress from Il Burro, it would be like Jack and Rose from the Titanic movie.  There is no other way to explain it.

Black Tap clearly see themselves as burger specialists – they serve fourteen types of burgers, but also stray into tacos, wings, salads and sides.  The prices are punchy – the Greg Norman burger will set you back 120 dhs, or 32 US$. (The same burger in Black Tap New York is 19 US$)

The Serb was going to order the burger salad but when she learned there was no bread in the salad, she changed her mind and went for the All-American burger instead.  I wanted to try something different, so I ordered the crispy Korean BBQ chicken burger.

Our waiter was engaging and very personable. He knew his way round the menu and put his hand on my shoulder in a congratulatory fashion for my excellent food choosing skills. I felt validated and sat back with a proud certificate smile on my face.

Black Tap doesn’t pretend to be anything other than it’s not. Black Tap serves burgers, beer and loud music. It is New Americana – a little hipster, a little Brooklyn and a little nostalgia.

The service was friendly, youthful, energetic and a touch chaotic.  The staff all wear jeans and backward caps, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, in their spare time, they perform in a K-pop dance troupe and have dance offs on the terrace.

The ambiance was buzzing – business colleagues enjoying a drink, families celebrating birthdays, teenagers meeting friends and couples on dates – Black Tap have found that popularity spark that every restaurant searches for. It is a momentum, a wave of recommendations and community conversation that creates a self-perpetuating hype train. Black Tap need to ride it for as long as it lasts.

The food arrived quite quickly despite the kitchen being busy. The burgers certainly weren’t the worst we’ve ever had, but seeing as Black Tap sell themselves a craft burger specialist, I think I expected something more from their hero dishes. I was left feeling a little underwhelmed – the portions were quite modest, and the signature fries tasted and looked like they were from a bag out of the freezer.

The Serb’s All-American burger was the most basic model you could order – beef patty, cheese, and a bun. The beef was under seasoned and a little on the small size for the 65 dhs price tag. As a burger goes, it was good but average.  In my opinion, you could get the same quality at GBK or Shake Shack.

My crispy chicken was unfortunately left in the fryer for far too long. It was the wrong side of brown, and therefore the chicken itself was overcooked and dry.

Their monster shakes are genius.  Not gastronomically speaking, but from a marketing standpoint, they are worth their weight in gold.  The shakes are effectively their marketing department.  Put the shake station by the front door, so everyone sees them when they enter, then make them outrageous, flamboyant and gluttonous.  Let people share pictures of them, and you can cancel the radio spots and Time Out adverts. Like I said, genius.

We ordered the Brooklyn Blackout – a ridiculous chocolate shake with brownies, chocolate chips, and four cans of whipped cream.  As I picked up my spoon and started to work my way through the shake, my phone rang. It was my life insurance provider, telling me they were raising my policy premiums.

When you hang your hat on being a burger bar, but your milkshakes get all the attention, then perhaps that is saying something about your burgers.  However, Black Tap’s success is the sum of all its parts.  Despite the food being average, Black Tap offers a buzzy licensed bar environment, urban hipster décor, and engaging service.  Combine this with the sugar high of the shakes, and you’ve got yourself a decent casual dining experience.

Just be careful though – those shakes are upwards of 1600 calories each and the come down is brutal.

Black Tap Craft Burgers
Jumeirah Al Naseem Hotel
04 4229904
Dinner for two – 260 dhs

Everyone knows that when you wake up craving authentic surf cuisine, there is only one place to head to.  Single Fin café in the Surf House is the only place serving authentic surf bites in Dubai – perhaps even the world. What is surf cuisine, I heard you cry? I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.

The Surf House is in Jumeirah, but should not be confused with the Surf Cafe.  The Surf House is in an old school white villa set a few feet back from the road.  Find the closest available parking, somewhere like Satwa probably, and walk the rest of the way.

The villa’s courtyard is a working space, with some makeshift tables from upturned cable wheels, a place to wash your boards and sandy feet, a well-used barbecue, with bicycles up against one wall and a variety of boards propped against the other.

The Surf House, superficially, is just a surf shop with a café at the back. However, scratch the surface, and it’s so much more than that.  I hope through the medium of food reviewing, you get a glimpse of what that is.

Single Fin Café can be found at the back of the villa, past the Roxy board shorts and the Oakley sunglasses.  There is a wooden herringbone clad bar counter occupied by people with tanned legs, tattoos, and flip flops. In the far corner, there is a stack of different surfboards, and the ceiling is shiny corrugated iron with backlighting. The walls are covered with artist’s drawings of waves and surf, the tables are simple natural wood and there is an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner.  Of course there’s a guitar.  It is unfussy and clean, with a certain charm and welcoming personality. I did miss some music though – maybe some Jack Johnson or Sublime would have really set the scene.

My experience with the surfer community is limited to a few holidays at Fistral Beach in Newquay and watching Bruce Brown’s The Endless Summer. I watched it twice actually, so I pretty much consider myself an expert.

I like the name, Single Fin Cafe.  It references the single fin surfboard from back in the day. According to a friend of mine, the feel of a single fin ride is like nothing else you’ll experience out on the water.  It can be difficult to make your own speed on the swell, he told me, but it teaches you to take whatever the waves give you. You learn to look further down the line and milk the wave until it gives up.  It rewards as much as it punishes and some of the sport’s most breath-taking rides have happened on a single fin board.  It’s a great name for a café.

The menu is split into breakfast, salads, tacos, burgers and sides. They have poke boats and some ice cream and desserts. It is a fun café menu that has something for everyone. The claim of authentic surf cuisine is a bit of a stretch, but who’s really paying attention to that sort of stuff.  If restaurants can get away with grass fed, single-udder butter, then Single Fin can get away with surf cuisine.

They have an impressive beverage menu, which makes sense when you remember that they are a functioning surf shop and school meters from the beach.

What is very clear is Single Fin’s commitment to supporting local companies like themselves – their coffee is from local boutique roasters, Nightjar Coffee, they have partnered with Ripe for their ingredients, Wild and Moon supply their cold press juices and Limeline Beverages supply them with the awesome Fentiman’s range of drinks.

As we sit down and get the lay of the land, I start to understand that this perhaps is not really about the food, but more about the larger community and knowing the importance of an egalitarian society – a free community sharing a common spirit and identity.

Our server came over and took our order. She was friendly and efficient but wasn’t wearing a wetsuit which was a bit of a disappointment. We ordered a pear and peach iced tea, ginger refresher and a macchiato for our drinks. For food, we went with the seared tuna salad, the quinoa and mango salad, the fried fish taco and the cheeseburger.

It may seem like a lot of food, but you certainly burn up the calories when you’ve been out on the waves all day. Truthfully, we had spent a rather relaxed morning in the mall, but it’s virtually the same thing.

The fish taco wasn’t good if I am honest. The fish was over-fried and very dry, and there was no generosity in the guacamole, salsa or sour cream portions. There was also a heavy hand when throwing in the shredded cabbage, which unfortunately just added to the dryness. However, the taco shells were warm and fresh, if that’s any consolation.

The burger was as good as any I’ve had in Dubai. The grass-fed meat was juicy, cooked to temperature and with excellent seasoning. The cheese melted until it just turned gooey and the bread was freshly baked and soft. The fries were thick cut and cooked in clean, hot oil. They were soft with a crisp bite to them.

We watched The Surf House in action as we enjoyed our food – the comings and goings of an entire community. There was the same relaxed, holiday vibe as a backpacker’s lodge in Australia would have.  Scott Chambers is the man behind the Surf House.  He is the Dominic Toretto of the surfing world. I have visions of him hosting barbecues in the courtyard out front, serving food on broken pieces of a surfboard, raising wax sticks saying, “Salute, mi familia. Dude.” He started The Surf House back in 2005 and over the last decade has created a tightly knit community of like-minded individuals that all share the same spirit and enjoy the positive vibes of life.

Our salads arrived in disposable bamboo boats and were fresh, cold and delicious. The tuna was a decent size but could have been seared a little longer or applied to a more intense heat to get that seared char. The greens were crispy, the avocado was ripe and soft, and the dressing was light and tangy.

The mango and quinoa salad was sweet, sharp and refreshing and reminded you of what a summer holiday should be like. It also came with cubes of soft avocado, bright red cherry tomatoes, and crunchy baby sweetcorn.

The Surf House isn’t about the food or the surf. It’s about much more than that. It is a place to kick off your flip flops off (as The Serb did) and take a break from life.  It doesn’t matter if you don’t have sun bleached blond hair, a beautiful deep tan and a body sculpted by the waves.  (The Serb agreed with me on that one – reluctantly.)  It doesn’t matter if you don’t know your Benny’s from your Boogers or you think a Chinese Wax Job is something you can only get in a Bur Dubai hotel. There is a feeling of acceptance at The Surf House and spending a few hours there can be a therapeutic escape from the Dubai rat race.

Single Fin Cafe
The Surf House
Jumeirah
Lunch for two – 194 dhs

Lunch – 7/10
Quick Escape from Dubai -10/10

On a lazy weekend morning, the Serb uttered those fateful words that can make or break an entire weekend. “I’m hungry, what shall we eat for lunch?”

Needless to say, like many things we discuss, we couldn’t come to a definitive agreement. However, for once, we found a compromise – we decided to go to both our choices. That’s right – two restaurants, two meals but one review. It’s complicated, so pay attention!

I wanted some flavour and spice – I wanted to be reminded that I had taste buds and teeth and was quite frankly I was tired of smashed avocado, quinoa and massaged beef. I chose Desi Adda, the Indian/Pakistani street food place in Al Qusais.

The Serb is the reason why burgers, unfortunately, continue their rampant growth across the globe. She wanted umami, melted cheese and sweet, processed bread. She chose Elevation Burger on Jumeirah Beach Road.

This was going to be a wonderful journey of contrasts, a dichotomy of east meets west, Al Qusais vs. Jumeirah, international brand vs. home grown street food, garam masala and coriander vs. ketchup and mayo. Two lunches and a road trip. It was the perfect afternoon.

We started with Desi Adda, which is admittedly, a little out of the way for us in New Dubai. It’s so far out of our way, actually, that when I entered the address into Google maps on the iPhone, and chose “Start Navigation,” Siri attempted an intervention and asked if I was sure I wanted to do this.

Desi Adda stands proudly between an industrial equipment rental shop and a hardware store selling door handles and office furniture. It had plenty of parking out front, and we found a spot between a Nissan Sunny and Hilux. Desi Adda would describe themselves as intimate, but let’s call a spade a spade – Desi Adda is tiny. A counter with four chairs on one side and two more tables on the other. So, literally, twelve people can eat there at one time. On the positive side, they would always be fully booked if they ever did a brunch.

The interior is clever and not what you would expect in the heart of Al Qusais. It is quirky with slick pop culture references dotted around the small space in the form of posters and quotes. For such a small space, their design is fun and hats off to whoever did their positioning. It reminds me of Raju Omlet to some extent.

Elevation Burger stands proudly by itself on Jumeriah Beach Road like a monolithic temple to beef. We didn’t find parking out front because this is Jumeriah and we had to circle several times until space became available. We squeezed in between a Range Rover and a G Wagon because this is Jumeriah. Elevation Burger is as big as Desi Adda is small. Spread over two floors, you could hold an Indian wedding reception here if you wanted. Desi Adda would obviously need to do the catering.

For such a big space, the interiors are quite stark and bare, and they struggle for personality. There is a reliance on large graphics of burgers and illustrations of imaginary farms at the base of snow-capped mountains. Their artwork screams out their promises of organic, grass fed beef and better ingredients.

Our waiter in Desi Adda was friendly, patient and eager to please. He might have also been the owner, chef, and busboy as well, as we saw no-one else in the place apart from him. We decided to stay away from the grills, and stick to the rolls and sandwiches, bearing in mind we had potentially a double stack cheese burger still to come.

Desi Adda’s menu packs a punch with about thirty different options of Desi street food to choose from. It is split into several sections; rolls, buns, grills, chaats, biriyani and some deserts.

For someone unfamiliar with food from the Sub-Continent, knowing the difference between Malai, Reshmi and Bihari is understandably difficult, but it is all about the combination of ingredients and the marinade. The Reshmi for example, combines curd, cream, cashew nuts and spices, whereas the Bihari goes for onions, chillis, ginger, yogurt and mustard oil. With Desi Abba clearly going after a more international crowd, they might do well to explain a little more about their dishes on their menu.

Elevation Burger is counter service with their menu on large boards at the front. The layout is weird in the Jumeirah branch. As you open the doors and walk in, they have placed their self-serve soda machine front and center, and their ordering counter all the way in the far corner. If I wasn’t an F&B expert, I might have been shouting my order at a soda machine for twenty minutes before figuring it out.

Elevation Burger sells burgers. Beef burgers, cheese burgers, chicken burgers, lettuce wrap burgers, double stack burgers – you get the idea. They sell sides as well, which are all fries – fresh fries, fancy fries or fiery fries. What’s important to note here is there are no French fries. They also have one salad option in case of emergencies – like if a vegetarian accidently walks in. They pride themselves on quality ingredients, such as 100% beef (sad that this has become a USP) and better ingredients.

In Desi Adda, we ordered the chicken shami with egg and cheese and the chicken malai boti roll. We were also convinced to try a Gur and Nemboo wala sharbat, which is an apricot sugar cane drink and not Bollywood dance routine. The chicken shami bun kebab is marinated chicken kebabs with a sweet onion chutney, thin pancake omelet in a grilled bun. The malai boti roll is marinated chicken pieces in a flaky roti roll with green chutney. Both were delicious – cooked with knowledge, experience, and care.  This is the new wave of street food – handheld food with flavours that dance and tingle and make you happy you’re alive.

At Elevation Burger, we ordered a cheese burger, with tomato, lettuce, pickles, ketchup and mayonnaise. We also had a chicken burger with the same and a side of fresh fries. You take a number, they bring the food, and you serve yourself own drinks at the soda fountain. We had to wait while someone finished giving their takeaway order to the Sprite button and then grabbed our drinks. It is in moments like these where you realise that Diet Coke foam is the work of an evil sorcerer.

The burgers arrive, neatly wrapped in little bags on a steel tray. The Serb grabs her cheese burger and takes an enormous bite, which is about the same as if a mouse had nibbled at it. She smiles, chews her food quickly and takes another bite. She looks like she is thoroughly enjoying herself. However, I know what’s really happening though. All burger chains look for the same thing – the perfect combination of salt, sugar, and fat that excites your brain and gets you coming back for more. For example, the mayonnaise helps promote a salivary response that helps cover your taste buds in goodness. The brain finds the dynamic contrast of the crunchy fresh pickles and soft fresh bread very novel and exciting.

There are many reasons why burgers are one of the most popular foods in the world, and judging by the Serbs reaction, Elevation Burger know what they are doing.

Two very different lunches and not really comparable, even though I’ve just spent one thousand words comparing them. I preferred Desi Adda and the Serb preferred Elevation Burger, but you probably figured that out already.

Go to both and make your own mind up.

Elevation Burger – 103 AED
Jumeirah Beach Road – 04 3880000

Desi Adda – 37 AED
Al Qusais – 04 261 2399

Back in 2009, at the Sasquatch music festival, one man, without fear of judgment or failure stood on a crowded hilltop and started dancing.  For a while, it looked like he was going to be remembered as the weirdo dancing man, but then something magical happened.  A second person joined him and then a third and fourth. Soon enough, the whole hillside – hundreds of people were dancing to his beat, and this solitary figure, with his bravery and conviction, had started a movement.  According to legend, he is still dancing on that hilltop today.

There is a movement happening in Dubai – chefs and restaurateurs are breaking free from the safety of hotels, franchises and celebrity mentorships and are creating a movement – a portfolio of independent, quality destinations that resonate with Dubai’s community.

3 Fils joins this growing list of rogue, breakaway concepts that are re-defining the landscape of Dubai. Former Zengo chef, Akmal Anuar, is behind the menu of 3 Fils and it gives him a great stage to showcase what he can do, unshackled, so to speak.

3 Fils is at the end of the wonderful, quiet and quaint little marina in the Jumeirah fishing harbour, deep in Jumeirah 1.  A throwback to the old-school expat days when real estate agents kept it real and you had to call your wealth advisor, not the other way round.

The restaurant is a small, compact and intimate space – twenty seats inside and maybe ten more outside.  The menu is tight and manageable – twenty-one main courses, with a handful of specials.  Everything is compact and without excess. Being neither compact or without excess, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

The steel grey concrete walls, distressed mirrors, and dark woods create an atmospheric space that looks just as good during the day as it would in the evening.  It is tastefully done without trying to make any over the top statements.

However, the menu is a single card that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the concept, if I was splitting hairs – which I clearly am.  It is cartoonish and illustrated, where the actual food is sophisticated and crafted.  It is the only concept disconnect that I noticed.  It is unlicensed and this place would do wonders with a cold Asahi Dry or Sapporo.

We were seated by a very friendly and enthusiastic waitress who, as soon as she learned we were 3 Fils first timers, launched into a tirade of information.  I couldn’t keep up with a lot of it, but I do remember that there was an IPad produced at some stage, and she used the word ‘circumference’ when talking about a chicken slider and promised to keep us informed with status updates from the kitchen as and when she got them.  I think she might be a lab research student during the week and server at the weekends. She was awfully nice, however.

We ordered seven items, having been told that five items were not going to be enough.  The food is described as “Asian food with Japanese influences,” which might have made sense if there wasn’t a chicken slider, beef tartare, triple cooked chips and beef carpaccio on the menu.  Several very un-Asian food items.  A better description would be, “Food with Asian flavours. And some Sushi.”  However, that is why I don’t work in marketing.

There were not many options for vegetarians, and although there were a few lighter choices like the torched yellowtail, most the menu had a lot of meat, fats, sticky sauces, and marinades.  If you are a vegan, keep walking – there is nothing for you to see here.

We ordered the dragon shrimp tempura sushi roll, the hot soy, garlic glazed chicken wings, the chicken slider, some barbecue marinated lamb ribs, spicy chorizo Indomie, beef yakitori with a sriracha cream and a Wagyu steak from Russia.

Often, small spaces are associated with high energy and a sense of urgency from the team.  Tables are turned, food is pumped out, staff are hustling, and the energy is dynamic and uplifting.   Perhaps because it was a lazy weekend lunch, and they didn’t need to turn tables, but there was certainly a very relaxed feel to the place and a rather laid back pace to the whole proceedings.  We had a slightly long wait for the food to start arriving.

The sushi made it to the table first, with an explanation that the sushi is always first out the blocks because the counter it’s made at is at the front of the kitchen.  The rest of the food is prepared at least two meters further back, which is virtually a different time zone, so will always arrive a little late.  Totally understandable.

The food arrived in a slightly ill-timed order, (probably due to the confusing kitchen time zones) but they were well presented, sharing (obviously) and the portion sizes were reflective of their prices.  The sushi was on point – structurally sound, maintained its integrity and had enough popping and crunchy bits added to keep it interesting.

The lamb ribs were sticky and sweet and fell off the bone after just a single gaze from the Serb.  The chicken slider was a little winner – A Martin’s bread roll, juicy deep fried hot chicken with a crunchy crust and a perfect circumference.

The Russia Wagyu (I don’t know either – I thought Wagyu came from a Japanese breed) was thin and fatty – not my favourite dish and certainly not of a quality you would expect from a Wagyu breed.  The bone marrow jus added a welcome umami depth to the plate however, but the meat for me fell flat.

The Indomie dish is named after the instant packet noodle of the same name, popular in Indonesia.  It is a clever take on a comfort, staple item – spiced chorizo, spring onions and instant ramen noodles.  A fun, quirky addition to a solid menu I guess, but it’s still a 30 dhs ramen noodle.  There are better dishes to spend your money on.

The chicken wings were spicy, sweet and of a uniform generous size.  They were also juicy with a great flavour balance between sweet and hot.

By the way – seven dishes was a lot of food for two people.  We would have left happy with five dishes.

I asked the Serb for her thoughts on 3fils when we were in the car.
“They make the complex, simple,” she said.
“You do know that is literally their tagline.  It’s written on the door of the restaurant.”  I asked.
“Yes, I know,” was her response.
“And you’re sticking with that?” I asked.
“Yes.” She replied and put her sunglasses on.  Who am I to argue with that?

If you want my 2 fils worth on 3 Fils, I think Chef Akmal should be very proud of what he has achieved.  The space is casual with a touch of the dramatic.  The setting is fantastic, overlooking the fishing harbour.  The staff are engaged, if not scientifically skewed, and the food is inventive, unpretentious and accessible. I look forward to Chef Akmal reinventing more dishes and offering some more vegetable dishes and slightly lighter options in the future.

I think you should get down there before the summer heat kicks in.

3 Fils Restaurant

Jumeirah Fishing Harbour
04 320 5555
Lunch for two – 322 Dhs

Il Borro – a restaurant that has proven to be my nemesis for quite some time now, finally gave me a reservation the other day.  After several failed attempts at visiting, multiple fully booked responses, lots of friends and colleagues boasting of their time there and even the chefs messaging me on Facebook, Il Borro was becoming the bane of my life, and I felt I needed to break the curse so I could move on.

Il Borro is at the new Jumeirah Al Naseem hotel on Beach Road.  It operates from a new licensed restaurant development that overlooks a quaint turtle sanctuary, where injured turtles are given a safe lagoon to recover in.  As a centerpiece, not as dramatic as a dancing fountain or laser and fire show, and you’re certainly not going to see these particular turtles somersaulting out of the water to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean wearing a single sparkling glove over their flippers.  Mainly because Jumeriah would never do that – they have far too much class and sophistication for dancing Michael Jackson turtles.

Finally, after promising to leave before anyone important arrived, we were granted a reservation early doors.

I suffer from terrible table envy, so when we were seated in the furthest corner of the restaurant, away from anything exciting, like the kitchen, or the bar, or the toilets, or people, I was a little disappointed.  Mainly for the Serb, as there was nothing exciting for her to look at, except me.  If our standing in the guest hierarchy was ever in doubt, it was cemented by two things.  They sat a man dressed in a three-piece Adidas tracksuit front and center as window dressing, and they sat a single diner with her Kindle next to us on “outsiders row.”  And our table was slightly wobbly.

However, table choice aside, the restaurant design is certainly a point to talk about.  They have chosen very subtle colours and natural materials with light, beige/gray woods and brass accents.  There are architectural, clean lines, with a great open dining room that the kitchen overlooks through black framed windows. There is a residential feel to the restaurant, a certain homely charm that exudes character and ambiance.  Furthermore, crisp white tablecloths and warm ambient lighting provide accessible sophistication, and overall, Il Borro resonates exceptionally well with its guests in this regard.

I think it is one of my favourite restaurant spaces at the moment.  Studio63 from Italy did a great job with the design.

I’ve followed Chef Bosetti’s cooking for close to a decade now.  It was back in Frankie’s Italian Grill where he first showed his talent – his cooking lacked a little discipline, but the raw talent was certainly there.  His gnocchi was exceptional, even back then.  He resurfaced briefly at the now closed Amika, but that was the wrong fit for someone like Maurizio – he needs a structured and classical environment to work in, not a nightclub with a pasta boiler in the back.  After a couple of decent stints in La Serre and Atelier M, it seems under Chef Andrea Campani and Il Borro, Maurizio Bosetti might have found a kitchen he can flex his muscles in.

The Dubai menu is quite different from the original in Il Borro, Florence – it is a much more westernized interpretation of Tuscan cooking, with more commercially acceptable offerings, like pizza, for example.  The original Tuscan menu comes with a significant focus on the provenance of ingredients – something restaurants of Dubai naturally struggle with. Whenever an Italian menu claims to have been “adapted” for the local market, it usually means they have added pizza or spaghetti carbonara.

For starters, we ordered the insalata di rape rosse – beetroot salad and the bresaola di Chianina – dried beef with rocket.  Mains were the costolette d’agnello – grilled rack of lamb, and the bufala mozzarella pizza.

The service was good – food arrived on time, and the staff were attentive and polite – however, they didn’t have the energy of the Zuma team or the knowledge of LPM or the personalities of the Matto team. Dining out has to be about more than just the food on the plate, especially at the prices restaurants charge these days. There has to be an experience, a story, something to elevate and differentiate.

This lack of engagement meant the staff missed an opportunity to help create a legacy with Il Borro.  Italian cuisine is one of the world’s very best, and Tuscany is a part of the country that grows and produces some of the planet’s greatest ingredients.  The staff needs to find opportunities to talk about the terroir, the climate, the Il Borro estate or even the menu inspiration. Talk about something – anything.

The beetroot salad and bresaola were served, and overall, they were excellent starters. Carpaccio style beetroot with figs slices, whipped young goats cheese, crushed pistachios, and baby cress. It was light and fragrant, the goat’s cheese and figs balancing against the sweetness of the beetroot.

The bresaola was also carpaccio sliced and served with generous shavings of hard, sharp cheese, a wonderfully light horseradish cream and a drizzle of sweet sticky balsamic. The beef used is from the Italian Chianina cow, one of the world’s oldest breeds of cattle, prized for the quality of their meat. It was a good dish, well-constructed with quality ingredients.

The manager wandered close to our table a couple of times, but a combination of being on “outsiders row” and next to single Kindle lady deterred him from coming any closer. Secretly, all I wanted was for him to come and say, “no-one puts Foodsheikh in the corner,” and we get up and dance through the restaurant like Patrick Swayze and that girl whose name everyone forgets.

Our mains arrived without delay – the rack of lamb and the bufala pizza.  The pizza arrived on an elevated stand, making bird’s eye view instagram pictures a nightmare. Doesn’t Il Borro know that the iPhone has a terrible depth of view?

The lamb was delicious, fatty, flavourful and cooked pink.  It had been marinated in light herbs that added a touch of char to the cooking process.  The jus was full of umami and combined well with the parsnip puree and dried olives.  Well flavoured, well marinated, well cooked and well presented.  Well done.

Pizza is an extremely difficult dish to critic – in my opinion, there is no such thing as bad pizza, and certainly no single version of the perfect pizza.  Il Borro’s version was pretty good.  However, I have a feeling it had to wait for the lamb to be ready as it was quite tepid in temperature by the time it got to the table.  It could have also been because our table was the furthest from the kitchen.  I’m surprised Deliveroo didn’t drive it over.

Good pizza starts with the dough – you get the dough wrong, and everything else falls apart. Bufala mozzarella and tomatoes are a tricky topping for pizza – ideally, you want to stay away from too many wet toppings, as it causes the crust to become soggy and fall apart.  However, they did a good job, the crust held up well and was pulled off the stone at the right time.

As we paid the bill, it was like saying goodbye to an old adversary – despite their best efforts; I felt endeared to Il Borro.  They have a certain charm about them – the restaurant itself is beautiful, and the atmosphere is lively and eclectic.  In regards to the food, I have heard from others that it can be somewhat inconsistent on occasion with whispers of poor seasoning, grumblings of small portions on the pasta and an alleged heavy reliance on syrups over fresh fruits in the cocktails.  However, our food on the evening was without fault, and I would recommend it based on our dinner alone.

The staff needs to engage a little more – especially in the absence of Michael Jackson somersaulting turtles.

On the way home, the Serb commented that it would be a great place to come with friends. I’m glad she enjoyed our intimate dinner so much that she wished her friends had been there too.

Il Borro Tuscan Bistro

Jumeirah Al Naseem Hotel

04 275 2555

Dinner for two – 552 AED.

Wild and The Moon is from the same owners as Comptoir 102, one of Dubai’s original concept stores and cafes in Jumeirah – famous for their organic menu and pricey collection of bangles and handbags.

Wild and The Moon reminds me of two things.  It reminds me of the three wolves and the moon T-shirt made famous by this Amazon review, and it also makes me break into some bizarre rendition of Roberta Flacks “First time I saw your face.” Both are odd, and both have no bearing to the little café in Alserkal Avenue.

So, imagine my surprise when the fella behind the counter was wearing the three wolf T-shirt, and Roberta Flack was warbling away on the sound system. OK, that’s not true at all. What is true about Wild and The Moon is you can shorten it to Wild Moon, and it immediately becomes a character out of Dances With Wolves.

I’ve spoken about Alserkal Avenue in the past – it is Dubai’s free spirited, creative zone – Copenhagen has Christiania, Dubai has Alserkal Avenue – home to a multitude of creative spaces, Feng shui energies, and a VIP valet parking area.

Wild Moon is a vegan café serving a limited menu of healthy juices, vitality shots, cold drinks, and breakfast items.

During a time when global food manufacturers are letting us down badly with their nefarious manipulation of raw ingredients, I applaud Wild Moon’s efforts to take responsibility for their own ingredients.  According to some research boffins in the US, a horrifying 74% of supermarket groceries contain added sugar and here is a little café in Alserkal that promises no refined sugars, additives, chemicals or GMOs. Good for you, Wild Moon, good for you.

However, this means you severely limit yourself to a lot of kale, spirulina and activated charcoal – not exactly the holy trinity of flavour and excitement.

The challenge for menu creation when all you are effectively serving are nuts, fruits, seeds and a few veg, is how to make it sound delicious and different. Wild and Moon do a pretty good job – however, there are lots of sprouted almonds and between you and me, sprouted almonds are just regular almonds left in a bowl of water overnight.

As I looked over the menu, I considered for a moment

how hard life must be for a vegan with a nut allergy.

I made the mistake of trying to add eggs to my avo “toast” and was quickly reprimanded by the dude behind the counter who reminded me that they operated a vegan menu and served no animal by-products. Unless, apparently, you order the bullet proof coffee, which contains ghee – a cow made product. I ordered it with extra cow, to compensate the lack of eggs. It made me feel better.

The Serb cautiously ordered the chia pudding, because I think those were the only two words she recognised from the menu. The rest of the menu read as if Professor Pomona Sprout from Hogwarts had opened a kitchen. The Sprouted Granola and Magic Budwig didn’t stand a chance with the Serb.

The space is intimate, with counter service and a small prep kitchen in the back. The juices are pre-made and kept in a grab and go fridge, which is a shame as you would want their core offering to be something of a show – and nothing says drama like stuffing a cucumber and some beetroot into a juicer.

The avo was ripe and flavoured well with za’atar and lemon. It was served with an almond and rosemary cracker which was surprisingly moreish – moist, slightly chewy and a good accompaniment for the avocados.

The chia pudding was made with almond milk and sweetened orange blossom maple syrup. The menu says it is served with fresh avocado, banana, and seasonal berries, but couldn’t find anything except pomegranate seeds, which was a shame, as it could have been a very filling and tasty dish.

The design is very Melbourne café, with simple white tiles, clean lines, and light woods. There are a few hanging plants, and the whole space is rather relaxed and quite pleasant.

Wild Moon is a nice little stop for a healthy juice or a light meal if you ever feel supermarket food or delivery meals are getting a bit too much for your three wolves T-shirt and blood pressure. Wild Moon is also perfect for vegans without nut allergies.

Wild Moon – 6.5/10

Breakfast for two – 102.00 Dhs

Alserkal Avenue, Al Quoz

Folly’s entrance is shared with another restaurant, called Publique.  Two reception desks stand side by side, manned by two hostesses, one in black, one in red, both wearing the hopeful look of anticipation on their faces.

Ultimately, every time a group walks through those doors, one hostess is going to be left disappointed. It’s a cruel, cruel world we live in.

Folly is a new venture from Nick Alves and Scott Price, two pioneers of Dubai’s food scene, aspiring to cook Michelin star menus before anyone else in the city.  Two young chefs that have scooped up all the important awards Dubai has to offer, had been flying Gordon Ramsay’s flag for several successful years before launching their own Table 9 restaurant.

After spending a few years on the fringes of the culinary world, launching a range of meal products for Spinneys and running Taste Kitchen in locations that time has not been kind to, Nick and Scott have returned to the spotlight with an ambitious, elaborate and bold venture.  Bringing in the charismatic Viktorija to help run the service can only strengthen their reputation.

Located up a steep flight of stairs, Folly seems to be spread over about fifteen floors of the Souk Madinat, with the main dining room and terrace, an upstairs terrace bar, another upstairs terrace bar upstairs and then a rooftop terrace.

The main dining room is quite masculine in feel, with dim lighting, house brick, dark wood and concrete and tile flooring.  The menus are leather, and the cutlery is stacked in wooden blocks on the table. It is an odd canvas for the type of food promised on the menu.

It is almost as if the cocktail menu designed the space, and then the food came afterward. Which is crazy, because cocktail menus can’t design anything.  They are just menus.

We sat at a banquet table overlooking the bar that is tucked away in the corner and the very open kitchen that was the center of attention in the dining room.  Strangely, the kitchen operated in almost full darkness, with a solitary fluorescent lamp in the back providing the only illumination.

The kitchen was full of movement and shadows, chefs scurrying around, cooking, plating, heating, fluffing and doing general cook stuff, moving in and out of the darkness like poorly dressed ninjas in whites.  Rumour has it, in the far depths of the kitchen, one chef has been in the dark for so long, she has developed an angel fish-like head torch in some genetic evolutionary miracle and no longer has a need for the sense of sight. She cooks on touch alone.

The menu required a full instructional presentation by our well-intentioned waiter.  As my dining partners have the attention span of a 4-year-old in a toy store, they lost interest quite early on in the explanation, and I was the only one paying attention by the end.  Nick and Scott have prepared a selection of twenty-four dishes, across three price ranges and encourage you to try four or five dishes each, effectively allowing you to create your own degustation menu.  Had our waiter used the words either tapas, meze or tasting menu in his spiel, we would have understood a lot sooner.

If Nick and Scott’s last venture was casual food in obscure locations, Folly is the polar opposite, with first rate, fine dining food in one of Dubai’s most premium locations.  Folly means a lack of good sense, or foolishness – a tongue in cheek name for such an ambitious venture.  However, they are backed by Gates Hospitality, who are fast becoming a haven for young restaurant entrepreneurs of Dubai.

Folly was a week old when we dined there – and like anything that is a week old, there needs to be a certain consideration for lack of co-ordination, communication, and general cohesive functionality.

We ordered around twelve dishes –monkfish cheeks, eggy bread, radishes, stracciatella, tofu, sirloin, lamb, crab, cuttlefish, stone bass, and octopus. It was an eclectic and varied assortment of dishes that ultimately showed Nick and Scott’s ambition and bravery.  A fine dining a-la-carte tasting menu served tapas style is perhaps not the easiest culinary task to pull off, and time will tell if they are still able to execute such complexity when really busy.

The key to tasting menus first and foremost, before you get fancy with the presentations, and the foams and gels is timing. A tasting menu is a journey – there is a story to tell, and it’s the job of the food to tell it with fluid prose and uninterrupted paragraphs.  Our experience from car to car was a lengthy three hours and twenty minutes.  Timing is key, and unfortunately, Folly struggled with their timing all night long.  However, they have a professional team, and this is not their first rodeo, so I am in no doubt that this will improve drastically in the coming weeks.  Failing that, turning on the kitchen lights might improve efficiency.  According to other chefs I have spoken to, being able to see what you are cooking is a real plus, apparently.

With twelve dishes to describe and having wasted my word count on silly matters, I shall whisk through the food. I apologise for the brevity, certainly no reflection on the quality.

The monkfish cheeks were plump, juicy and came with a wonderful paprika smokiness. The sage eggy bread had a great flavour to it, but was not saturated properly – the result was a dry and plain center.

We ordered the butterhead with crème fresh, but it never arrived.  I’m sure whatever table received it would have enjoyed it – whatever a butterhead is.

The cuttlefish came in a black ink ravioli, and our weird mainland European friend was the only one who ate it and enjoyed it.

The Devon crab with seaweed and basil was excellent – fresh, cold and generous, taking me back to Devon summers and The Royal Regatta in Dartmouth.

The delicate stracciatella was overpowered by the aniseed, but the Omani shrimp married exceptionally well with the marjoram and lime gremolata.  The radishes were disappointing, causing someone on our table to announce that it was merely a garnish on a dinner plate.  The octopus was soft, yet maintained some bite, with a rather rambunctious cucumber and fennel sauce.

The stone bass was cooked well, and the fish arrived moist and fresh in a sea of foam.  The sirloin beef just about ticked the boxes – the potato gratin disguising itself very admirably as a leek and potato puree.  The clear winner was the lamb and pine nuts – a great composition of flavours and textures – the umami balanced with the freshness of the pine nuts and a salsa that danced with a wonderful lightness.

Viktorija, in her wisdom of running some of the world’s greatest dining rooms, approached us at the end of the meal and quite rightly offered to provide a discount on our bill, acknowledging that they “didn’t quite get it right, this evening.”  This acknowledgment speaks volumes of the calibre of the team – the self-criticism and willingness to accept it is refreshing.

Despite being perhaps a little rusty, Nick and Scott have the experience and skills to produce food of exceptional quality.  They have taken a bold approach regarding service style, but have found the right person in Viktorija to manage that.  Although not a perfect execution, I am sure in their drive for perfection, they will get it right sooner, rather than later. If they can do all that in the dark, imagine what they can do when they come into the light.

Folly By Nick and Scott

Souk Madinat

04 430 8535

Dinner for 5 – 1,200 Dhs

Often, I read up on new restaurants and their press releases, just to understand how they have positioned themselves and what their purpose and objectives are.

The Lighthouse has put serious expectations on themselves.  Named after one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and inspired by Virginia Woolf, this little restaurant wants to be a reference point for everyday design.   An inspiring daytime venue for the design and creative work set, morphing into an eclectic evening venue with a designer DJ providing tunes for the crowd to enjoy over aperitifs at the mezze bar.

Restaurants are so last year.

At first glance, they seem to take themselves quite seriously.  Even their coffee has made an “organic journey” from Ethiopia, which is just a ridiculous statement that makes no sense whatsoever, but hats off to the PR team for their own creativity!  The Lighthouse doesn’t even call themselves a restaurant – they are a concept store and kitchen.  Restaurants are so last year.

The Lighthouse is located in the uber-cool Dubai Design District, although unlike many lighthouses, this one is not particularly easy to find.  Surprisingly, they are licensed, which means three things – hops, grape and a terrace surrounded by a privacy wall that Donald Trump would be proud of.

A significant portion of the space is given over to retail, and for a while, I couldn’t figure out what it reminded me of.  Then, I remembered.  So, when Virgin Megastore ran out of musical things to sell, they created a collection of interesting, yet utterly useless gadgets, trinkets, and books – like Crazy Aaron’s Thinking Putty and a self-stirring mug or the coffee table book – Stuck Up!: 100 Objects Inserted and Ingested in Places They Shouldn’t Be.

The Lighthouse’s retail section is like that – except much more expensive and design centric. We spent a good twenty minutes trying to figure out if a stack of tiny cardboard chairs had any further purpose other than to remain inanimate in a pile, like some MOMA exhibition for ants.

I’m not a complete savage – I did notice their rather awesome Gubi designed Beetle chairs

The Lighthouse has a residential feel to it, with bookshelves and display cases and the overall space is clinical and clean, allowing their curated collection of Japanese finger bowls and crumpled linen to provide the personality the space needs.  I fear that all the subtle design details of The Lighthouse will be lost on a design Neanderthal like myself, and offer my sincere apologies for my ignorance.  However, I’m not a complete savage – I did notice their rather awesome Gubi designed Beetle chairs – and at around 3,000 AED per piece, they were clearly not afraid to get out the cheque book either.

I explained to my guests that the menu is a Chef Izu menu. After a table of blank faces, I explained that Chef Izu is one of my favourite chefs, and would have made it onto my chef’s feature last week except he doesn’t really cook full time anymore.  I also explained that after gaining a well-deserved following from his time at LPM and La Serre, Izu now moonlights as a chef for hire – a culinary vigilante, creating menus, teaching recipes and generally swanning around in his Peaky Blinders cap. They seemed suitably impressed. I think.

The menu has significant influence from the Mediterranean, with a hint of Levantine with lots of earthy vegetables, full flavoured cheeses, good quality seafood, and meats. Oranges and almonds, pomegranate and cranberries, and pistachios and apricots all play a large part in the menu make up, as does tzatziki, hummus, paprika, and harissa. It is an excellent menu, comprised of sandwiches, mezze, mains, salads, and desserts. It is wholesome and particularly reflective of both the Dubai market and eating trends as a whole.

We ordered the large lighthouse platter of six mezze, green beans with orange, tomato and hazelnuts, a cheese board, seafood risotto and the sliced beef with vegetables and mustard dressing.

The mezze platter came with some thoughtful selections – chicken pieces, kofta balls, garlic and rosemary prawns, some tzatziki with warm, chewy pita bread, and a small bowl of baked feta cheese. All were good, except the chicken was a little gristly and could have done with better butchery skills.

The sliced beef in a mustard dressing was a big portion, even when both myself and the Serb tried to tackle it – and we’ve tackled large portions before.  Served in a skillet, several layers of thinly sliced beef covered oven cooked vegetables. Somewhat disappointing – when beef is sliced so thin, it is so easy to overcook it, and although I didn’t need a massive kick from the mustard, I didn’t even get a twitch from it.

The green beans with orange and tomato were a deep emerald green, crunchy and loaded with flavour. The hummus was some of the best we’ve had this year.

Chef Izu made an appearance, and The Serb acted as if Brad Pitt had just walked in. I’ve never known someone to be so star struck about someone who they didn’t know existed until ten minutes ago. Luckily, being star struck for the Serb means a raised eyebrow and a slightly longer gaze, so it wasn’t obvious.

The seafood risotto was flavoured with pistachio, tomato and freshened up with some basil. The seafood was generous and fresh, the rice was cooked well, and it was relatively light, while maintaining that all important creaminess.

We tried their version of Chef Yotam Ottolenghi’s famous apple and olive oil cake. The secret to this dessert is to let it rest for two days in the fridge. Never eat a freshly made apple and olive oil cake – the flavours need time to mature and intensify. The one we were served had been given that time, and it was delicious. It is also served with a home-made malt ice cream which gave a great balance to the sweetness.

Overall, The Lighthouse does a good job with the food – it is familiar and accessible with some good flavours and ingredients. Chef Izu has created a really solid menu, but more importantly, the team are cooking the dishes well. They should be congratulated. Whether The Lighthouse will become everything they aspire to be, remains to be seen, but the early days indicate they might be on their way. Did I tell you they have Gubi Beetle chairs?

A bowl of Kellogg’s.

A coffee.

38 AED | 10 US$ | 8GBP.

Dubai Mall.

Umm… that’s all I got.

A large Matto sign engraved into a purposely unfinished tiled wall greets you as you walk in off the lobby of the Oberoi hotel.  A lobby that is strangely located on the 3rd floor of the hotel, by the way.  Matto translates as crazy in Italian, and the second “T” has been turned upside down in the name as if to prove the point.

If hipster industrial did Italian farmhouse, it would be Matto – however, the space is a little too familiar. The polished concrete floor, Edison bulbs, exposed ceiling and Chesterfield leather upholstery, is becoming somewhat repetitive across Dubai.  Communal high tables, grays, browns and whites bring about a dizzying sense of restaurant déjà vu. Where have all the designers gone?  Where is the creative spark? Where is your craziness, Matto with an upside down T?

“Where is your craziness, Matto with an upside down T?”

You want to see crazy Italian – look no further than the Serb. She is neither crazy (hmm..) or Italian, but she did take me to a restaurant in Belgrade called Lorenzo & Kakalamba. They have a pasta dish called Pasta Al Pacino. Yes, they went there. They also have a lady wearing only lingerie who lies in an empty portrait frame and reads a book for the entire evening. I don’t know what book it was.

So, having established that Dragon Mart’s sales of Edison lightbulbs are still going strong and business is brisk for the concrete floor polisher, we were led to our table by an energetic Italian waiter. Matto is a celebration of everything Italian, and all the staff have their names and hometowns printed on the back of their T-shirts. It works for now, because all the floor staff are from Italy, but when Angelo from Manila arrives, it’s going ruin that strategy.

Italian cuisine is at its best when it is simple; using perfect, straightforward, raw ingredients. However, there is so much more to it than that. Italians taste differently. That came out wrong. For Italians, their food is intrinsically linked to nostalgia, comfort, and reassurance. Fundamentally, the way Italians taste their food is different to how you and I taste their food. They eat with the strength and memory of their ancestors – of their very upbringing. It is the result of their life up to that point. If they have eaten that dish a thousand times, they will remember each and every time; who cooked it for them, where they ate it and all the other memories that come with it. That is why there isn’t a more enthusiastic and joyful nation of eaters than the Italians.

So, when a chef boasts about using recipes that are handed down from his grandmother, it’s probably true, and we should probably respect that. Unless it’s just PR spin.

“Glorious, golden, homemade ribbons of hand cut tagliatelle”

The menu has little focus beyond being Italian cuisine. There are some southern influences mixed in with some northern classics. The ragu, for example, originates from Bologna in the north as does the Cotoletta Milanese. The Fregula & Gamberetti is Sicilian and as southern as you can get, but Stinco Di Agnello, is slow cooked and has Mediterranean influences.

I was happy to see they hadn’t compromised their integrity with a dish like Chicken Al Pacino, which is something a crazy Serbian-Italian restaurant would do. I forgive the Matto burger because it is from Naples. Naples, Florida that is.

We ordered a schiacciate stracciatella & tartufo because it has more letters than the alphabet and I wanted to hear the Serb pronounce it. We also ordered the manzo tartare because the Serb wanted meat. Surprise, surprise.

The service team were like the Italian version of One Direction. There was the cute one with the bed head, the sultry one with a catwalk pout, the older one with a beard, the joker who stuffs spaghetti up his nose, and the bad boy who arrives late to his shift and has to wear other co-workers T-shirts because he forgot his. I am sure I saw three Lucas from Turin walking around. They all take it in turns bringing food to your table, like their solo verse in a love ballad.

The unpronounceable schiacciate is an Italian flatbread with stracciatella cheese, truffle, and caramelized onion. It arrived on an oversized wooden board, looking a little bit overwhelmed and lost. However, it made up for that in flavour – I am always dubious about truffle – it is often overused and misused, but here they have got it right. Slightly sweet soft cheese, offset with the musty umami of the truffle. The flatbread was crispy and baked well.

“The chef is so Italian, he only speaks with hand gestures”

The chef is Italian, and according to our waiter, he is so Italian that he only speaks with his hands. The pasta is all made fresh in house, and our zucchini and pancetta had glorious, almost golden, homemade ribbons of hand cut tagliatelle, coated in a light, delicate zucchini cream, with beef pancetta. It showcased deftness of hand and control of flavours from the kitchen brigade. Unfortunately, it also suffered a little without the saltiness and irreplaceable flavour of pork pancetta.

The pasta portions are Italian sized portions, and so you are not overloaded with carbs. Unless you stupidly fill up on bread before the food arrives.

The ricotta cheese gnocchi is also made in house and came with a wonderfully balanced beef ragu. They use a blend of ribeye and filet beef in the recipe, which allows the sauce to develop a deep and rich flavour. The tomatoes found a great balance of acidity and the parmesan brought a creaminess to the dish. It was perhaps my favourite dish of 2017 so far.

At the table next to us, were some professional food bloggers, being taken through the menu by the manager. They were carefully arranging the table, so it looked like it hadn’t been arranged, before taking studio quality images with their latest iPhone cameras for whatever social media platform they were most popular on. They also kept requesting seconds and thirds of each dish, as it seems they had mistakenly eaten the food before they took pictures. The manager graciously kept bowing to their requests through gritted teeth.

I took a photo of my leftover gnocchi in the hope the manager would bring me more food. It didn’t work.

By this stage, Matto was growing on us. There is an authentic charm and honesty that many other restaurants spend years trying to find. Matto’s relaxed cohesion and endearing personality is almost impossible to plan for when opening a restaurant and I applaud the Italian One Direction for their knowledge of menu, charm, and engagement. I applaud the chef and his kitchen team for their commitment to simplicity and freshness, and I applaud his grandmother for her recipes.

We finished off the carb overload with some striscette – lightly fried dough strips with Nutella. The Italian churros. They arrived hot from the kitchen, sprinkled with large grain sugar and a jar of Nutella. The dough was a touch pale in colour, but Nutella instantly improves anything. They were finished very quickly, despite us being in danger of slipping into a carb coma.

Matto holds the middle ground of the Italian restaurant world – finding a home below The Artisan and Cipriani but well above the likes of Carluccio’s and Eataly.

There is seismic shift happening in the Dubai restaurant world, and it’s not my stomach for once. A celebrity chef is no longer king – homegrown concepts are getting better. Much better – and Matto might be leading the charge this year. A delightfully accessible Italian restaurant.

Matto – The Oberoi Hotel, Business Bay

Phone Number:- 04 444 1335

On the advice of one of my readers, I decided to try Il Borro, the new Tuscan Bistro at the new Jumeirah Al Naseem.  Having called the hotel to determine their opening hours, I was relieved to hear they were open for a simple lunch and not some high drama brunch.  However, the truth, it turns out was very different.  They weren’t serving lunch or brunch.  They were serving nothing. Lights were on, but no one was home – literally.  After again getting clarification that they should be open from the hotel, we made a difficult decision to eat somewhere else.  What a disappointment – making sure your advertised opening hours are correct seems an obvious move for a newly opened restaurant.

So this is the reason why we ended up at Dragonfly, a new Asian premium restaurant in City Walk.  Not to be confused with Dragon Mart, which is what the Serb did, when she entered our destination into the Sat Nav.  It’s better if we don’t talk about that, though. It’s behind us now.

We couldn’t have picked a more different type of restaurant if we had tried. Going from a Tuscan Bistro to a premium Asian is like drinking orange juice when you are expecting milk.  For a brief moment, your body shuts down in an utter panic until your brain catches up with what’s happening and you realize it’s only orange juice, and you’re not going to die.  It’s exactly like that.

We wandered in off the street and grabbed a banquet table at the front of the restaurant.  During the summer months, the place is going to be intimate, however, when the weather is perfect like it is now, they have a decent amount of seating outside.

If the Family Feud game show producers had done a nationwide survey to ask what should be in a Chinese restaurant, they collectively would have come back with Dragonfly. The décor is painfully obvious. Red paper lanterns? Check. Faux Ming vases? Check. Cherry Blossom plates? Check. Red booths and carpets? Check. I don’t think there is a more Chinese looking restaurant in the whole of China.  The red furniture spills onto the street like petals falling from a rose.  Or blood splatter from an interior design crime scene.  But perhaps that is the point – perhaps they are being ironic.

A meal at Dragonfly is a full on experience – don’t expect a quick bite to eat – when you sit at one of the red booths, you are committed. Luckily, it seems Dragonfly is equally committed to providing that experience.

Our waiter proudly slipped into his well-practised spiel about Dragonfly, and when he asked if we had heard of Chef Tim Raue, I nodded knowingly, despite having never heard of him.  If Chef Tim Raue ever needs his biography written, I’ve found his ghost writer.  Long story short – he’s a German chef, two Michelin Stars under his belt and Dragonfly is his first restaurant outside Germany, where he oversees eight different restaurants.

Our incredibly knowledgeable server then gave us a presentation on the quality of the food, and the key elements that were important to Dragonfly – 10-year-old soy sauce, Chinese and Thai ingredients with Japanese simplicity, etc.

We were then given an IPad, so we could look at some images of the dishes and zoom in on a few of the details.  It was all very intense and interactive. I don’t think you could go to Dragonfly and be a passive participant. They have put a significant effort behind their menu, and they demand your involvement. I was half expecting to be given homework to do when I left.

We were finally allowed to place our order and went for the duck dim sum and tuna pizza to start, followed by the Shanghainese beef and the lemon chicken.

Our duck dim sum was a disappointing start to the meal – it was a little dry, despite a wonderful jus drizzled over it and the meat was flavoured with an over abundance of ginger – a root not known for its subtlety in taste.  Ginger will punch you in the face if you’re not careful.

The tuna pizza was a tuna tartare on a thin, slightly crispy filo pastry base. The mustard pickles provided a spicy layer of crunch, and the tuna itself also boasted a particular spice as well. The tiny dice of tuna were kept room temperature, to allow the flesh to relax a little – but in hindsight, I would have enjoyed it more served cold and firm.

At Dragonfly, the kitchen has produced a great cohesion between flavour and texture and a deep understanding of ingredient and technique.  Take the pickled red radish for example, with coconut coriander cream and young coriander sprouts.  Barely more than a bite, the radish was cold, fresh and crunchy, and the coriander was exotic, creamy and intense. It is in these sort of dishes where chefs can shine or fail.

The beef was marbled and flavourful, two little strips of tender meat, sitting in a slightly sweet sauce of perfect viscosity. Accompanying them were alternating balls of papaya and tomato and their own purees.

Despite being the most average of our choices, the chicken was still cooked with confidence, and the lemon and parsley sauce had us wishing we had spoons.

Although the majority of the dishes at Dragonfly achieved a cohesion and harmony befitting of Japan’s famous culinary balance, they are also small, dainty and over within two bites.  There is a touch of longing, a hint of dissatisfaction, a whisper of wanting more.

I think the restaurant knows this; I think they know that the food alone will not satiate even the daintiest of appetites, and so they complement the meal with small plates of food that continue to boast of the kitchens superior skill set.  All the little table fillers that are drip fed throughout the meal were exceptional. Nothing was without thought, and no dish was just going through the motions. The entire composition of the meal was the work of a very talented chef.

Dragonfly suffers from the lack of a liquor license, although they make up for it by charging the same price for a juice as they would for some premium grape.

The dessert showcased the challenges all chefs face in Dubai with the quality of ingredients.  The chocolate with pear and tarragon struggled with an unripe pear that was hard and hadn’t yet lost its bitterness.

However, overall the food was of a very high standard, and Dragonfly almost seems out of place in City Walk, next to a coffee shop and empty residential apartments.  It seems like they should be in a 5-star hotel, but perhaps this is the future of the Dubai dining landscape.  Perhaps this is how change happens.

At 440 dhs for lunch, it is not the cheapest, but to judge purely against portion size would not do Dragonfly justice.  Sometimes there is a value to elevated culinary excellence, and I genuinely believe Dragonfly’s menu can justify their prices.

And more importantly, they are open for lunch and if you love the colour red, then it’s a winner.  Just stay away from the juice.

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If Jones the Grocer and Lime Tree Café had a love child who was Greek, it would be Wooden Cellar, in Sports City.

As high rent becomes more unfeasible, independent restaurants owners are moving to less obvious locations in the hope of being able to afford to pay their staff and put a little back in their own pockets.

Wooden Cellar is a neighbourhood Greek Deli, a local hangout for the residents of Sports City.  It’s a little tricky to find, which is why it seemed to be full of dads with their young kids, celebrating their escapes, or lamenting their temporary banishment from their homes. Either way, they move with a confidence of men that were unlikely to be found by their wives. I thought I heard one child ask his father when they were going home. He was allowed another piece of honey cake for his silence.

The space is quite welcoming, with wooden arches, long kitchen-style tables, well-stocked deli fridges and shelves filled bread baked into the shape of crabs and alligators – those famous Greek animals. Jars of Greek delicacies can be found in small nooks, and you are naturally inclined to explore the place, to see if you can find any other wonders. I found several trays of eggs (honestly) and wondered to myself if they should be in the fridge or not.

Neighbourhood cafes, like Friends Avenue, Arrows and Sparrows, and Wooden Cellar play such an important role for Dubai – much more so than we first think. A good neighbourhood joint will become a third place for the community, a social space where people feel more connected and less stressed, where friendships are formed and strengthened, community problems are solved, business deals are struck, and fathers hide from their wives. Neighbourhood restaurants are the unsung heroes that create the dynamic streetscapes (yes, that is a word) that all good urban developments strive for.

Neighbourhood places don’t need fancy menus and feature design elements. They need to do the basics well and consistently. Sounds easy, right?

Brillat Savarin, the famous food writer, once said, “To receive guests is to take charge of their happiness during the entire time they are under your roof.”  I use this quote as genuine, heartfelt advice to the owners of Wooden Cellar.

I’m not sure if our waiter was one of a set of triplets working there, or had the world’s shortest memory, but we had three interactions with him – he looked surprised to see us every time and seemingly had no recollection of our previous discussions. In a local restaurant, you would hope that the service staff are that little bit warmer, that little bit friendlier, a touch more concerned about your experience and show a desire to establish a connection with their community. Those are the basics, and they need to be done well.

We seated ourselves and eventually asked for a menu. Our server gave us the menus and looked confused as to where we had come from.

The menu is filled with appetizers such as goats cheese truffles, orange cauliflower and potato spetsofai. They have all time classics that must be a nightmare for their twitter account – Dishes like Tiganopsomo and Tirokafteri that just roll of the tongue and cheeky little desserts like a Portokalopita or a Karidopita. If it all sounds Greek to you, then that’s because it is.

However, we were there for breakfast, so ignore all the dishes I have just written. Focus on the below.  (Although the menu did look good.)

The Serb claimed she knew what breakfast I was going to order. She said it with such a smug confidence that when she was correct, I told her she was wrong and ordered something else. I ordered the fried eggs in herbed yogurt even though I wanted the omelet. She ordered the BLT sandwich. Which I knew she was going to order.

The best thing about the menu was that there wasn’t a smashed avocado, chia seed or acai bowl in sight.

I wish we had saved our exploring for after we ordered, as it would have given us something to do, while we waited for our breakfasts to arrive. It did take quite some time, and even the Serb, who can make a small cappuccino last an entire Eid weekend, started to tap her watch.

My order was two fried eggs on top of a naan bread with a sundried tomato pesto yogurt, baby spinach, and crumbled goats cheese. Yes, it was as good as it sounds. It was like a breakfast pizza/pide – and who doesn’t like pizza for breakfast. My only gripe would be that the naan bread could have been baked longer – it was a little doughy. But apart from that, it was well worth the wait.

I ordered a flat white, which was not a flat white, but an excellent latte nonetheless.

The Serb had the BLT which was a monster of a sandwich – two slabs of toasted, crispy brioche, with caramelized beef bacon, fried eggs, and gouda cheese. It was far too big for such a dainty appetite, but a sizeable dent was made. The brioche soaked up the egg yolk, the beef bacon was sweet and sticky with a caramelized glaze and went well with the gouda cheese and crispy lettuce.

Wooden Cellar impressed me – I do like to support local businesses, and they seem to take pride in what they do. The food has a home-cooked quality to it, and I hope they manage to resonate with their community.

If you live in Sports City and have a missing husband, check Wooden Cellar – he’s probably there.

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