The Dubai Melting Pot is in the Kitchen Too

Technicalities aside (see my previous post on Dubai as 'salad bowl' rather than 'melting pot') I was pleased to read The Dubai Melting Pot Is In the Kitchen Too in the New York Times. After an abundance of Dubai-bashing in the media recently, it was a relief to see a story by a writer who actually enjoyed himself in Dubai, and to read a well-researched piece of travel and food writing that gave such a scrumptious insight into the place. However, often it's the focused, one-subject stories that are more revealing than the all-encompassing pieces that try to do everything and don't end up covering anything particularly well at all. While cuisine, cooking and a culture's eating habits tell a lot about a place, in this case what's heartening is the fact that the story was centered, that it stayed on topic, that it rang true, and that it dug a little (although perhaps not as deep as it could have), rather than staggered all about the place, scratching here and there at the surface, and scraping together nothing but castles in the sand. During his three-day "odyssey across the culinary landscape of Dubai" writer Seth Sherwood samples an array of restaurants featuring cuisine from North Africa to the Sub-Continent, crediting Dubai’s cosmopolitan population for this culinary diversity, and writing "For devotees of food from the Arabian-Islamic world, Dubai may offer the grandest and most concentrated smorgasbord on the planet." Okay, so they're not really 'Arabian' (he probably means Arabic), but we'll forgive him because at least he was there. You see, I still can't get over Brisbane writer Elizabeth Farrelly's nonsensical piece in which she admitted that she had never been there but strangely for six months had "wanted to write about Dubai as a ruin". In stark contrast Sherwood's piece is grounded in reality: "Though the international economic crisis has raged like a sandstorm through Dubai’s office towers, financial markets and construction sites, a January visit found the sprawling restaurant scene remarkably intact." He concludes: "The upshot is a citywide food bazaar in which restaurants, high- and low-end, serve up tapaslike mezes, aubergine par excellence, fluffy couscous, tangy yogurts, endless kebabs, meats stewed with fruit, fiery arrak liqueur and honey-drenched desserts. All you need is taxi fare and a love of spices." I couldn't agree more. Although I don't always agree with his choices. Sherwood covers everything from the chic Moroccan restaurant Almaz by Momo (pictured) to the gritty Pakistani worker's eatery, Ravi, an expat favorite. The challenge of doing a story like this is that the writer only has three days to eat his way around the city and has to rely on his research abilities as much as his skills at discernment whereas we have had 11 years of dining in Dubai, with plenty of time for repeat visits. Another reason I love guidebook writer - 6 weeks in a city allows you plenty of time to return to places, to wander by on different nights, and to talk to locals. But once again - at least he was there.

A Tale of Three Tastings in Rome: Tasting #3 Ristorante Il Pagliaccio

By Terry Carter*
Our third memorable meal turned out to be at Michelin-starred Ristorante Il Pagliaccio. We had wanted to eat here for a while, having heard great things about the chef and glowing recommendations about the inventiveness of the menu of Anthony Genovese. Visiting for lunch, we were the only patrons there, yet we hadn't been able to get a table for two nights. Manager Daniele Montano explained that they open for lunch to keep people like us happy (he guessed we were ‘food tourists’), as well as the businessmen and politicians out to impress. To be honest, there were so many highlights to this meal it’s hard to pick out some favorites. The gnocchi with oysters and caviar was sublime. And we had the best prepared pigeon, served with peas, pea puree and mushrooms, that we'd ever had in our lives. The wines were perfectly matched and the service was warm and generous. Il Pagliaccio might translate to the weeping clown, but this meal made us weep tears of delight. Although we were a little melancholy for more after we left…

Great meals have a flow about them and great restaurants exude a certain confidence. The wines match the food well, the waiting staff work seamlessly together, and the kitchen brings out fresh ingredients cooked with care and often plenty of flair. But great meals don’t have to be as intricate and delicate as dining at Il Pagliaccio where a new wine and new taste sensations were presented with every course. They can be as simple and rustic as La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali, or more classical and refined like L'Arcangelo. When we go out to eat we’re happy with any of these three types of experiences. And when a meal clicks, it makes all the ones that don’t feel that way seem like wasted opportunities - something that really irks us when we’re working on a guidebook and blow a tonne of money on a restaurant that we ultimately can’t recommend. But while we are researching stories, to have three memorable meals in just as many days, with such a gamut of experiences, is one of the pure joys of travelling. Don’t you think? It’s one of the reasons we do what we do!

Terry Carter* is my partner and co-author.

A Tale of Three Tastings in Rome: Tasting #2 La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali

By Terry Carter*
La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali** was casually recommended to us by our guide, Petulia, from Context while we were on our way to visit some bespoke shops, and it was another memorable stop. A modest, old-fashioned trattoria, we were instantly taken with the casual nature of the staff. ‘Dad’, who appears to do the cooking, walked through the restaurant wearing the kind of apron that generally makes the rest of the family giggle, but the food was delicious, as was the wine selection. We ordered off-menu as this generally translates to the ‘specials’. In good Italian restaurants ‘specials’ don’t mean the stuff from the back of the walk-in refrigerator that’s well past its prime, it means the dishes that are made from what was bought fresh from the market that day. We had a beautiful freshly-made caponata (a 'salad' comprised of cooked eggplant, olives, pine nuts, celery, more than a little sugar, vinegar and olive oil, with some wonderful buffalo mozzarella on the side), followed by some handmade pastas, of which a veal ragout with late-season truffles was an aromatic delight. Even a neighbouring table’s comments*** that they had to keep drinking wine to "drown out the garlic taste" of the same dish* couldn’t deter us from fighting over whether our ‘half-half’**** rule applied.

* Photographer-writer Terry Carter is my husband and co-author
** at Via Madonna dei Monte 16
*** Notes for our neighbouring table (while desperately not trying to sound like a food snob): it was truffle, not garlic that was giving off the strong aroma (costs much more, smells very different); ‘al-dente’ means ‘with bite’, this is how pasta is cooked, although the ‘bite’ varies depending whether the pasta is secca (dried) or fresca (fresh); and ‘Dante’ was a writer, so asking if a pasta is ‘chewy’ because it’s cooked ‘Dante’ is like asking to be sent to the Inferno.
**** our ‘half-half’ rule is what we use when we have two dishes we both really want to try. We eat half and then swap plates. Conditions apply and there is often a little cheating. As when one person is faking that their dish is ‘just OK’, but is secretly having a food orgasm. This is generally easily discovered by noting the facial expressions of the cheating diner.