Wedding Fever

I'm not a monarchist. In fact, there was a referendum in Australia some years back, and I voted to make Australia a republic. Luckly, at that time, more than half the population was over 50 (baby boomers), and they like ER and what she does very much, thank you. I say luckily, because if Australia was a republic, we would have lost touch with the British Royal Family, and I wouldn't have been at all excited that there was a royal wedding this weekend.

I probably wouldn't have decided that because I was going to a birthday party on the day of the royal wedding, that I should make my own version of english muffins, just because I felt the occasion needed to be celebrated via baking.

And so, we have English Muffins by Sarah. Complete with St George's cross (albeit baked in wonkily). Full of 'sweet as a princess' wedding white chocolate, and absolutely nothing like a standard English Muffin.


Ingredients:
  • 1 cup plain flour
  • 2 tsp baking powder
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 1/3 cup canola oil (or any oil with little flavour)
  • 1/3 cup milk
  • 150g block of white chocolate, chopped into 1/4 inch(ish) cubes
  • 12 strawberries, washed and quartered

Instructions
  1. Preheat oven to 180ᵒC. Sift dry ingredients, then add egg, oil and milk gradually while stirring or beating on a low speed. Finally stir in white chocolate.
  2. Spoon into muffin tins lined with cup-cake papers, then arrange stawberry quarters lightly on top to make a cross.
  3. Cook for 20 minutes, or until centre springs back when touched. 


Should make 12 small/medium sized muffins. You could make the same recipe with double the quantities and bake is as a cake in a 22cm round for about 40 - 45 minutes. Great on their own, or sweet and delicate enough to use as a dessert with strawberries and cream on the side. 





Dubai Cheap Eats

The words "cheap" and "Dubai" don't really go together. Which, when you really look at it, is probably a mis-labelling of this society. When I moved from my sheltered life in Melbourne to Dubai, I brought with me this naive impression that the world was fair, that all people were equal, and that opportunity was a gift to anybody who was bold enough to reach out and take it. This Utopian dream, however, is not so, and I have found in Dubai a merging of demographics that I would have previously assumed impossible.

How can people earning $200 a month live side-by-side with people earning $30 000 a month? How can we shop at the same stores, catch the same taxis, eat at the same restaurants? We don't. The truth of the matter is that besides possibly shopping at the same supermarkets (where we buy completely different items), there are at least two distinct levels to Dubai. First is the five-star level - the Dubai we see on the Emirates ad, the shiny malls, the glittering skyscrapers, the elegant hotels. But scratch the surface, and a completely different society can be found. Karama and Meena Bazaar, Al Quoz and the Naif souk. Spectacularly good and spectacularly bad restaurants with authentic cuisine from Pakistan, India, Iran, Lebanon and more for 10AED a plate. There is cheap in Dubai, and I love it.


But... If you want to have a glass of wine with a meal in Dubai, you must dine at a Hotel or Club. And liquor licenses really only seem to go to hotels that are four-star and above. Now I've set restaurant prices in a hotel before, and I can tell you now, there's always a hefty increase on the net price. Other restaurants might work on about a 66% mark-up on food and 100% on wine, but hotels throw this out the window and do whatever the hell they want. This happens the world over, and Dubai is no exception. If I go to a restaurant in Madinat Jumeirah and order a bottle of wine that is marked at 40AED on the shelf of the wine store, I will pay a minimum of 260AED for it to sit by the dimly-lit wind towers and putt-putting abras to enjoy it. This is a disgrace, but as I said, not uncommon here, or anywhere in the world. (And then, of course, I will add about a 10% tip for the waiter on top)

So I am going to let you in on a couple of secrets. It's not going to make the five-star part of Dubai "cheap", but it will help you spend a decent amount on your nights out - not an exhorbitant one. Now I know several of these secrets, but let's start with just a few...

Round Menu
This is a site that has some amazing deals, provided you book through them. This is actually a benefit, because it simply involves a couple of clicks and it's done - no spelling your name out to a person who can't understand your accent over the phone, no double-triple confirmations, etc. The other night, I had a wonderful night with friends at Calabar at the Address downtown, where we got 50% off our entire bill - food and drinks. Sure, we had to order everything before 8pm, but that's pretty easy when they let you sit with three bottles of wine in the bucket and food still on order while signing your credit card bill at 7:59. And the benefit of getting in early? You get to nab the beanbags.

Rotana Rewards
This is a very old-school restaurant club. Once you pay the annual membership fee of 850AED,  you immediately receive a 250AED voucher to use in any restaurant/bar, and 1000 reword points. Then the member dines for free in restaurants when accompanied by at least one guest, plus there is 15% discount on the total beverages bill. There are also things like discounted room rates at all Rotana Hotels, and other room goodies. Of course the member also receives loyalty points that can be redeemed later. This is valid in all Rotana venues in the middle east, and considering there are 12 Rotanas in Dubai alone, that gives you plenty of options.

    Jumeira Sirius Rewards
    This is a free-to-sign-up rewards program, much like the Dine-in by Hyatt one. It has the same basic workings of any loyalty programs, that is, get points each time you dine, and redeem them later. But I will say that the price to earning ratio (the first time I am interested in this expression) is quite decent, and the rewards are appropriate - e.g. 125 points for entry to Wild Wadi, 325 for "sky Jazz" at the Sky Bar at the Burj al Arab, 888 points for a room at the new Zabeel Saray. 1 point is earned for every $3US spent (about 10AED) - so a couple of dinners for 2, and you're off to Wild Wadi for free. They also have the standard double-point offers, and occasionally something a little more spectacular like 20% off at all restaurants (this ran for 6 months a year and a half ago), or as is currently running, 15% off at The Wharf, Pisces or Zheng He's at Madinat Jumeirah, or at La Parrilla, Marina, Carnevale or Villa Beach at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel.

    Wafi Select
    Wafi is the oft-overlooked dinosaur (or ancient pharaoh) of Dubai. The restaurants are old, and not just old, they're old-hat. (Besides the Khan Murjan restaurant, which is one of Dubai's treasures in my opinion). However, the select card is free, and it provides you with a 20% discount on all food and beverage, any day of the year - Kahn Murjan unfortunately not included. Partner that with more reasonable pricing than many of the flashier places in New Dubai (Madinat to JBR district), and it makes for a fairly inexpensive night out. Asha's was fairly good when I dined there last year, and Sevilles is a staple for a trashy night out with latin dancing. Partner this with some of their other offers like the "Girls' Night Out" on Tuesday, which allows for a far-over-the-limit number of free drinks, and I can envision an almost free dining experience.


    As for the other Dubai cheap eats, one day I will tell you about Bu'qtair, I promise.




     




    Almaz by Momo

    I love finding a secret. It pampers the selfish egotistical side of me. I'm clever enough to know this secret, and nobody else does. Will I tell them about it? Or will I keep it to myself, selfish, enjoying the quiet Friday lunches. I mean, if I tell you all about it, you might all go there and fill the place up and then I might have to (heaven forbid!) make a booking.

    That's the way I got my kids up there the first time. I dragged them past the maelstrom that is the food court, expertly skirted the numerous ice-cream stores, fended requests of lollies from the sweetie carts, and whispered in their ears: "Mummy's got a secret place to have lunch. We have to go through a very very expensive shop to get there - the kind of shop Mummy's not usually allowed to go into. We have to be very well behaved while we are in that shop, because everyone who shops there is a millionaire. Then we have to find the secret restaurant at the top. What do you think?"


    Wide eyed, "OOOOOOOO". That was a yes.

    And so, we tiptoed through Harvey Nichols, and the leprechauns behaved impeccably. I cannot say the same for Hambone, who kept on looking at the prices on the menswear, and exclaiming altogether too loudly, "Nine-Hundred Dirhams for a T-SHIRT? Are you KIDDING me?" Embarrasing. Even the children were unimpressed, and walked faster in an "I'm not with him..." kind of way. We had to ask where Momo was - it is tucked away, in the far right corner of the very top floor - just past the gold-plated hand towels and diamond-encrusted soap dishes. We arrive at Almaz, fittingly, the arabic word for 'diamond', but for me, it is always Momo - because the name reminds me of Greg Malouf's Melbourne restaurant - and my introduction to a love affair with Moroccan food.

    On a Friday at 1pm, it's quiet - blissfully so. The cavernous interior is dimly lit with trios of large baubles encased in Saracenic star-patterned crochet. All chairs are plush - the children want to sit on the stage area, which is in the shape of a majlis, and has circular tin tabletops patterned in reflection of the lights. But they are for drinking only, says the waitress - the seats are too low. Instead we are led over the painted floor to a couch and armchairs, and Goldilocks proceeds to erect a cushion-castle while we order fruit mocktails and lemon and mint juice.

    The atmosphere is rich, considering you are in a Mall (Mall of the Emirates), and many times I forget where I am. The music is Morrocan I think, and I like it. Waiters dressed in black fade into the walls, and they are efficient - you barely notice them. In the far corner, behind rose-coloured glass, lies the smokers' room - a den of sweet-scented air pollution and men dressed in white thobes - they are in on my secret. Or is it me who is in on theirs?

    While we wait for our food, the children doodle with crayons on their paper menus, and we are brought marinated olives, hummus and soft pillowy bread fresh from the oven. The kids' food arrives first - Chicken tenders sounded like fast food on the menu, but they arrive and prove otherwise - shoestring strips of crumbed chicken, and home-made shoestring fries - the crunchiest I have ever had. There is silence - proof the children are happy.

    Fattoush and Moutabel arrive next. Superb smokey moutabel, and good fattoush but not great - too much capsicum, and not enough lemon juice. But mains are out of this world. Hambone demolishes a chicken tagine, only once offering me a sample - it's tender, piquant, the gravy is rich, and the flavours delicate. My saffron risotto is unbelievably good. This is a Moroccan restaurant, and I didn't expect this - but the rice is al-dente, and it rests in the remnants of a full-flavoured stock - no stodge, not undercooked, seasoned perfectly, amazing. And surprisingly, the saffron is easily tasted next to the parmegiano - a combination I had thought might be out of balance.

    We're full, but I had seen churros on the menu, and I want the kids to love them as I do. I used to buy spectacular churros at the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne - they would come in a paper cone, piping hot and crunchy, but soft in the middle, and coated in cinnamon and sugar. But when I took them to Melbourne last year, they were disappointing. Not soft in the middle, too chewy on the outside, and overall, disappointing. The kids had thought I was crazy. But today in Momo, I redeem myself. Tasty little munchkin churros arrive in a bowl with cinnamon and pistachio icecreams on the side. They are everything I had hoped and more - better than the old-fashioned Melbourne ones, in fact, rivalling Barcelona 1998.

    We finish with tea - Moroccan mint, of course. The waiter pours it theatrically, ensuring the leaves remain in the bottom of the pot, and don't tumble into my tiny glass. It's sweet, but refreshing, and cleanses the palate, and steels us for the shopping and the bright lights that must follow in the Mall.

    --------------------------------------

    Almaz by Momo is part of the Momo group, started by Mourad Mazouz in 1988 in Paris, and continued in London, Dubai and Beirut. It is in the Mall of the Emirates, on the top floor of Harvey Nichols, but can also be accessed via the out-door lift on that side of the mall near the taxi rank. It is not licensed, but has an excellent range of non-alcoholic drinks, even non-alcoholic wines.


    Saffron and Honey Breakfast Cake

    Friday morning is the start of the weekend in this part of the world. It is the holy day, and so we rest on Fridays and Saturdays. I am still getting used to the whole 'work' routine on Sundays, but something I have settled into quite nicely is pancake morning on Fridays. It's an institution. 

    But this week, Friday came at the end of holidays where we had worn our Friday institution out a little - when you have something every day, it is no longer a novelty. And so, to mark the special day, I really had to pull one out of the hat. So, with my new-found confidence in baking, I decided to make cake. I figured if it was shallow, then it would cook quickly, so this is what I came up with.


    Ingredients:

    • 80g soft butter
    • 1/4 cup brown sugar 
    • 2 tbsp honey
    • 2 eggs
    • 1 cup flour (I used wholemeal, and sifted the big bits out)
    • 1 tsp bicarbonate or soda
    • 1/4 tsp saffron
    • 1/3 cup buttermilk
    Instructions
    1. Preheat oven to 180ᵒC. Sift flour and bicarbonate. Put saffron in the buttermilk.
    2. In a second bowl, cream butter and sugar with a beater on slow, then add honey, then the eggs one by one. Turn speed to medium, and add flour and milk alternating
    3. Pour into a pre-greased or lined pan (I used a 22cm round), and cook for about 15-20 minutes until a spike tests clean (poke a skewer in the middle and if it comes out fairly clean, it's cooked - if it has goo on it, leave it in)

    Serve hot from the oven with cubes of butter and lashings of melted honey (combine equal parts honey and water and heat until dissolved).

    A taste of the desert

    I had been looking forward to this weekend for over a month. In fact, I had been looking forward to this weekend even before I booked the trip. I knew we would do it. It was going to be hellishly expensive, it would involve an incredibly boring drive with two very annoying children in the back, and when we got there, it was going to be so romantic we were going to wish we had left the children behind. But it had to be done. Liwa is the ancestral home of the founders of the United Arab Emirates (the Bani Yas tribe). It is an authentic oasis. Romantic, historical, Laurence of Arabia, home to Bedouins, and a landscape of sandy mountains carved by time, resting on the edge of the 'Empty Quarter' - a land nobody can live in.







    Liwa is not a town. It is in fact the name of the strip of oases that run in the shape of a crescent moon, right on the edge of the UAE/Saudi border, an hour and a half inland from Abu Dhabi (it's about 190km on an 80km/h road, but who's counting). There are about 39 settlements in the area (some too small to really call villages), and historically the area has survived on very traditional Arabic farming - dates and camels. There are also many drip-irrigated fruit and vegetable farms now in the area. (in fact, the Abu Dhabi Organic Farm I spoke of in a previous farm is on the road towards Liwa, but much, much closer to the city). It boasts the largest dunes in the UAE, and in fact, at 300m, there are dunes close to where we stayed that are among the largest in the world. So it has always been on the trail for crazy dune bashers and desert lovers.

    The drive is beautiful, but repetitive. There is something so calming about staring out the car window at the dunes, that roll just like a surging ocean. They get larger the further away from the city you drive, and the colour changes - beginning with an appearance like a beige minky velvet blanket crushed and thrown over pebbles, then giant fuzzy apricots, and finally, rusty sunburned mountains - mammoth but fragile, soft to the touch, and able to be blown to smithereens by a breeze. The sand has a texture to it that can be seen easily - it's not just one colour - the borders blend over the tops of the dunes, making them appear wet or be-shadowed. And the desert is not empty. Farms sprout between the dunes, some just a gathering of palms around a water tank and a shack, others seeming to produce fresh harvests of shiny white Land-cruisers as well as hundreds of palms and wandering camels.

    I booked us a 1-bedroom suite at the Qasr Al Sarab, which sits at the close end of the Oasis (ouch - 1800AED per night +10% service charge and 6% tourism fee). I had been given the heads-up by a friend, NOT to book the standard rooms and ask for them to be adjoining, because they don't adjoin - you can only book the Deluxe Terrace King rooms when you are travelling with children, and they are nearly as expensive as a suite. So I figured I could lie on the form, only say one child is coming (limit in the room is one child), and bring a 'ready bed' to pop on the couch for the other. Despite booking online for 2 adults and 1 child, the booking processed with only 1 adult, and so of course, we arrived only to find the one bed in the room. Fortunately they were lovely enough to go and organise one for us pronto, and then charged us 350AED plus 16% per night for it! Fortunately again, I did not ask about this earlier, or it would have put a sour taste in my mouth for the duration.

    Pre- and post-shamal views from the stairs near our room

    The resort is stunning. It melds perfectly into the landscape, dwarfed by the size of the dunes. It is not until you are within it that you realise its size - it has several wings, parts that are 5 stories tall, an entire separate pavilion (probably to get away from me and my kids), and yet it is still subtle. It's very cleverly done. The rooms are beautifully furnished, with magically comfortable beds, cloud-like pillows, and everything you could ever want. The bath is so enormous, the entire family were able to get in at once, much to the amazement of Goldilocks, who giggled so much he got bubbles up his nose and had to receive a semi-resuscitation attempt by Mummy.

    Night one involved drive then an immediate dip in the pool, then drinks at the poolbar, then dinner then a refreshing nighttime dip, then bed. Day two involved a quick swim, then breakfast then back to the pool, then lunch - but just as we were about to make a much needed trip to the pool, the desert did something very naughty and untimely - it whipped itself into a shamal, dumping what appeared to be half of Saudi Arabia into my eyes, ears, nose, mouth and cleavage. Our liberating walk over the dunes, our camel ride into the sunset was off. We did not see the towns of the Oasis. We did not feel the beating heart of the United Arab Emirates. We did what everyone seems to do in this part of the world. We experienced the harsh wild nature of Arabia from the comfort of our double-glazed, air-conditioned, luxuriously appointed, five-star hotel room.

    Fortunately, the kids club has a pool table, and so we were able to keep ourselves entertained for the afternoon, but considering this hotel is in one of the harshest environments in the world, there was surprisingly little to do inside. Even dining was limited - we didn't want to subject ourselves to another buffet after gorging ourselves at breakfast, and did not feel like braving the walk to the poolside restaurant, but were turned away from the fine dining a la carte Suhail restaurant, because they did not allow children. They were finally flexible enough to seat them, but not flexible enough to find something the children would happily eat. We ended up back in the room for some exquisite room service food, and to watch 'Tangled' for the umpteenth time, because the wind had knocked the sattelite out and - shock, horror - there was no TV. Maybe if only the kids had not been there....

    For those who have been to Bab al Shams (A Jumeirah hotel in the desert about 45 minutes drive out of Dubai that has been around for several years), this fairly new Qasr Al Sarab has a feel very similar, and it's hard not to compare them. In both, the architecture and furnishing is opulently Arabian to the extreme. They contain artful lighting - the most impressive collections of moorish lights you can imagine. There isn't a seat inside that is not covered with leather, silk or velvet. Water features trickle within earshot no matter where you stand, and every window frames a perfect scene like a piece of art.

    But it's a big drive - is Qasr al Sarab better than Bab Al Shams? Yes and no. The pool at Bab al Shams is more beautiful, the size of the resort more comforting, with smaller nooks and shady corners to retreat, and it's a little more rustically furnished (but that expensive kind of rustic, if you know what I mean). It is closer to Dubai, and cheaper, although I don't believe it is any less luxurious. But the Qasr has a remoteness that may appeal to some - the irony of toasting to the nearby Saudi Arabian border with a glass of icy Veuve cliquot was not lost on me. The desert is the red and rolling desert of movies, whereas Bab al Shams is beige and flat. There is no traditional exotic outdoor restaurant like Bab al Shams' al Hadheera restaurant to be found at the Qasr al Sarab - only a pool-side restaurant, but they counter it with the fine dining Suhail with it's majestic private dining room

    And the biggest problem? The total bill including all food etc. was over 7600 AED for two nights. We didn't go to the spa (590 AED + 10% service minimum charge for a massage), or dune bash, or even ride a camel. That's just bed, food and drink. So would I go again? No. But that's easy for me to say, because I've already been, and I can't help compare it to other cheaper and more exhilarating desert experiences, and I left feeling that I had been let down culturally. Like so many other hotels in the UAE, the hotel is so plush that the inclination to venture outside of it is gone, and the surrounding sights sometimes just don't fit with the level of luxury that exists inside the hotel. I feel I could have paid half the price to stay at a place in Dubai. But saying that, my husband loved it, and would happily return - I guess it's all a matter of taste, and after that shamal, all I can taste is sand and the sour flavour of an empty wallet.

    Crunchy prawns with korma dipping sauce

    Every once in a while, there is a dish from a restaurant that sticks with me. One evening, about 8 years ago in Melbourne, I dined with my husband at Circa at 'The Prince' in St Kilda. It was fairly soon after it had opened, and it was still well and truly in its hey-day, a food style-leader in Melbourne, and in fact Australia. That night, among other things, I had a prawn dish, with the most perfectly crisp and delicious casing - knaffe pastry. 

    Just recently I purchased Suzanne Husseini's new cookbook, and what did I find in there? Prawns with knaffe pastry. Hers are with orange and lemon rind and stuffed with almonds, and they are amazing. Of course, I can't put her recipe here, so I brainstormed a little - I really enjoyed the sweetness of the almonds with the sweetness of the prawn flesh, and that got me thinking about korma.

    Korma is a curry sauce that is made with a cream and nut base - either almonds or cashews. But as far as I'm concerned, the almonds just don't cut it for this sauce - cashews are far creamier. Most of the work is done in the blender, so it's super easy to cook.


    For the Sauce:

    Ingredients:
    • 1/2 cup of cashews
    • 1 large carrot, diced roughly
    • 1 large onion, diced roughly
    • 3 cloves garlic, peeled
    • 1/2 cup of tinned tomato or passata
    • 1 tsp ground cumin
    • 2 tsp ground coriander
    • 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
    • 1/4 tsp ground cardamom
    • 1/4 tsp ground cloves
    • 1/2 tsp salt
    • 1 tsp chilli flakes
    • 1/2 cup of cream

    Instructions
    1. whizz all items except the bottom two in a blender
    2. simmer covered on the stove for about 25 minutes, stirring intermittently
    3. Add the final two ingredients, combine well over heat, then serve with prawns.

    For the prawns:

    Ingredients:
    • Knaffe Pastry - about 1/3 of a packet
    • 20 large prawns - peeled and deveined - if you want to use these as a snack, leave the tails on.
    • rind of one lemon, grated
    Instructions:
    1. in a bowl, rub lemon rind into prawns, then taking a small amount of pastry (about 10 threads, long), wrap the prawn around and around from tip to tail. 
    2. deep-fry at a fairly hot temperature - the prawns only take about 2-3 minutes each to cook. 
    3. Serve with curry dipping sauce and eat while hot!

    Notes on cooking:
    The korma sauce is a child-friendly favourite in my house, and so I tend to make up great quantities without the chilli and freeze it. Then I take it out of the freezer and add it to pan-fried chicken breast fillet and frozen peas and serve it with rice. In fact, the night I made these prawns, I served them as a main course with rice and a broccoli salad. The carrot is not a traditional ingredient, but I practice a game in my house called "hide the veggies", and I have found that it is also useful in adding colour to the sauce. The spice mix can be played with, and you might even find a garam masala mix on the supermarket shelf that is similar to the flavours I have used. 


    When you are left with remaining knaffe pastry, make baclava!

    Souk, Souq, Suq


    Cinnamon
    I can smell it as the abra touch-parks at the riverbank. The aromas lead me stumbling up the gangplanks and into a throbbing intersection. I ponder for a moment - safe stroll through the subway, or manic death-wish rush through Deira traffic? I opt for the road - the thought of darkness, dankness and urine assaulting the senses is unbearable.


    tumeric, ginger, star anise, rose buds and hibiscus
    Suddenly I find yourself on the other side, and snicker at the fools coughing and spluttering while collapsing out of the vile tunnel. I am already striding ahead into a different cloud of air pollution, the kind you find at a spice souq.

    Souq, souk and suq are all appropriate spellings, and they all mean the same thing – it’s Arabic for ‘market”. The Spice Souq is my favorite of all in Dubai - sure, it's ripe with the standard pitfalls of a tourist trap - cheap rubbish dressed in clever disguise, laughably high prices that are never offered to the locals, spruikers offering fake (and substandard to karama) designer handbags and watches. But this, to me, is the closest we get to a traditional Arab market, and the atmosphere is intoxicating.


    Frankincense and more
    There are fewer westerners here than in the Old, Textile, or Gold Souqs, particularly as you delve into the deeper, narrower aisles. On many visits I am a lone white face, and the only unveiled female. The stall holders always think I'm German, and when I don't respond to their greetings, the switch to French, then finally English. I marvel at their unappreciated skill with language, yet skirt them expertly. I have "my guy", the man whose prices start halfway up the scale now he knows my face.

    Indigo
    I pass pots large enough to cook Hansel and Gretel, rows of shisha pipes, plastic bowls that look like porcelain, dinky toys, perfumes, henna and hair jewelry. Finally I find him, on the corner, near the money exchange. He smiles and welcomes me in, never remembering I have been here before until I request the spicy cashews that often are not on the shelf. His father sits at the desk beside the other exit, grumbling occasionally, snorting and frowning until I finally buy something.

    And what do I buy?
    • Za'atar - a herb mix of thyme and sesame that is a great bread-dipping base, but I use for all kinds of things
    • Sumac - zingy, citrussy, magenta-coloured powder that I mainly use with fish, but also to flavor salad dressings (it is a necessary ingredient in Fattoush)
    • Saffron - honey flavored and as expensive as gold. Just make sure you get the real stuff, not the terribly inferior substitutes.
    • Baharat – the Arabic alternative to curry powder – a fragrant hot powdery mix especially good as a rub for barbecued fish and chicken.
    • Hibiscus and chamomile flowers – for caffeine free tea, particularly good when sweet and iced with lashings of lemon.
    • Rosewater and orange blossom water - for salad dressings, sugar syrup base for baclava, and to put in my bath.
    • Turmeric - in root or powder. It's flavor is subtle - slightly nutty and herbaceous, but I love the colour. Essential in curries.
    • Cardamom - again, for the sugar syrup, and also to flavor my tea. a fragrant, fresh spice that lends itself to both sweet and savory dishes.
    • Oud - slivers of the highly aromatic wood that rivals saffron's price. A piece just 1cm square will burn on charcoal in a terra-cotta pot in my living room and leave it's magical scent for days

    And of course, the spicy roasted cashews. (Click on the links for my recipes)
    ----------------------------------

    The spice souq, souk or suq is not the only place you can purchase these things in Dubai - even the local Carrefour sells spices by the scoop out of a sack here, and probably cheaper. But the souq is a journey through space and time, not just a shopping destination.

    The souq is open daily from 10 am till late, with the standard siesta hour or so from 1pm to 4, and is closed on Friday mornings. Like all markets however, the opening hours of individual shops vary.

    It can be found next to the Dubai Creek, on the Deira side - identified by a row of decrepit beige wind towers, and of course, the smell. It's walking distance from the Gold Souq (in mild weather), and an easy abra ride from the old souq. If you are coming from the textile souq, walk the short distance through to the old souq entrance, because the abras at the textile souq go somewhere else entirely. All four Souqs can be seen in one day (or, if you are like me, in many many days)








    Fattoush - the salad for non-salad lovers

    I hate salads that taste like a pile of grass. I'm more of a caesar salad person - sure, I like some leaves, but I prefer them crunchy, and then I want a whole heap of non-salad items in there, like bacon, eggs, bread and cheese. Or maybe a complete lack of leaves, like in a greek salad - again, with the cheese, and something tangy like olives. But just don't serve me weeds - ugh.

    This region has a famous salad, and I'd never heard of it before I arrived - but now I order it everywhere. I'm on my own special mission to find the best Fattoush (also fatoush, fattush and probably a myriad of other spellings) that can be found in Dubai. So far, it's a war between Bayt al Wakeel on the Bur Dubai side of the creek in the middle of the Old Souk, and Tagine, at the One and Only Royal Mirage.

    Fattoush's wonderful addition is fried bread. It's like an arabic crouton, but better, and I make mine in the oven and they taste just as good. These croutons are so awesome, I eat half of them before I even make the salad. But the salad is pretty good too - it's fresh, aromatic, colourful and crunchy. 


    Ingredients:
    • radishes, a small bunch - sliced
    • 1 lebanese cucumber - sliced or diced
    • 2 tomatoes, diced (or use half a punnet of tiny cherry tomatoes like I did)
    • fresh mint, loosely chopped
    • fresh thyme, loosely chopped
    • 1 tsp lemon juice 
    • 1 tsp good balsamic vinegar
    • 1 tbsp olive oil
    • 1/2 tsp sumac (finely grated lemon rind is a poor substitute)
    • salt and pepper

    for the bread
    • 1 slice small pita bread, cut into small squares
    • canola oil - a good slurp
    • salt

    Instructions:
    1. in a 150ᵒC oven, place a tray with the bread tossed through with canola oil and salt, and cook until golden brown (about 10 minutes)
    2. combine other ingredients in a bowl and toss (or arrange prettily as I have)
    3. When bread is cool, add on top of the salad, and sprinkle extra sumac for garnish.

    This salad is also amazing thrown in a pita shell with a big dollop of natural yoghurt.







    Za'atar

    Living in the Middle East is a dream for a spice lover. It is of course, smack in the middle of traditional spice trails, and the trading hub for all the fragrant and piquant treasures of this world. Baharat, Sumac, Saffron, Cardamom, Oud, Roses, Za'atar. The list goes on. A trip to the spice souk of Dubai is a must for any traveller  (not to buy spices - they are cheaper at the hypermarkets) to immerse oneself in the origins of this port. Dubai started as a trading town, and pearls, spices and gold were the objects of desire, and the Souks still bear hints of the traditional Middle East that has been lost everywhere else in this shiny city.

    Za'atar is both Arabic for Thyme, and also the name of a spice blend that includes thyme, and usually marjoram, oregano, sesame, salt and sumac. Here, you can find it everywhere - in plastic packets on the supermarket shelves, in hessian sacks at the souks, on flat bread with melted cheese, in croissants, on the table next to the salt. It's a zingy, herbaceous mix that goes with almost everything - it can be added to a lamb stew, a fish marinade, a breakfast frittata, sprinkled on a pizza, but one of my favourites is simply on pastry, and oven baked for about 10 minutes - it makes a superb finger food, and is wonderful dipped in minted labneh (thick yogurt that tastes a little like tzatziki).


    Ingredients:
    • puff pastry squares
    • oil for brushing the pastry
    • za'atar
    • salt

    Instructions
    1. Preheat the oven to 200ᵒC
    2. brush the pastry squares with the oil and then sprinkle with za'atar and salt
    3. cut into strips and stretch and twist (it's possible to sandwich two together and then twist), then place on baking paper on a tray and cook until golden brown - about 10 minutes.


    How easy is that? Best to let them cool before serving. They will keep nicely for about 2 days, but taste best fresh. The za'atar could easily be substituted for any spice mix - for example, thyme, cayenne and paprika, or maybe lemon rind and garlic powder, or even sun-dried tomatoes crushed with pine nuts and Parmesan. The presentation is also up to you - twists, triangles, snail shapes, diamonds - anything you like. Just make up the mix, spread or sprinkle it on and bake!

    No pain, no gain

    I've always been more of a non-recipe cook. Don't get me wrong - I love cookbooks, but after years of working in restaurants alongside chefs - some great, some mediocre, I have realized that once you develop some basic knowledge, and learn to trust your taste buds, anyone is capable of inventing a recipe (implementing it is another matter!)

    I am a great 'surprise chef'. I can walk into any kitchen and prepare a meal - often a great one, if I try, out of almost anything. You know how MacGyver used to make a nuclear warhead out of a ball point pen, two batteries, a paperclip and a piece of gum? That's me in the kitchen. The only thing that has held me up has been baking. It has always stood on a pedestal as the unmuckable cooking. Hard-core recipe stuff. I think it was several early failed attempts at pavlova and anzac biscuits that did it.

    But what I've realised recently is that baking - particularly cakes - does not need to be as exact as I thought. Sure, there are things that MUST be included. Eggs to bind, oil or butter for moistness, some kind of raising agent for cakes, sugar for taste. The quantites are variable. More eggs for a dense cake, less for a crumbly one, more baking soda for fluffy scones, less for whoopie pies, more butter for brownies, less for banana bread. And do you know what, as long as you don't accidentally put in garlic powder instead of ginger, and you don't burn it, the sugar is ALWAYS going to make it taste good - no matter how chewy or crumbly it is.

    So here is my favourite of all cakes: 'Pain d'epice". It actually translates as spiced bread - but it has no yeast in it - it's a bread like a banana bread, and tastes amazing fresh from the oven with a slab of melted butter on it. Again, it has my regional stamp on it - I love Arabic ingredients, but they can be substituted if you can't find them

    Ingredients:
    • 125g soft butter
    • 3/4 cup brown sugar 
    • 3/4 cup date dhibs (substitute molasses/treacle if you don't have this)
    • 3 eggs
    • 1 3/4 cups flour
    • 1 tsp bicarbonate or soda
    • 1 tsp gr Ginger
    • 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
    • 1/2 tsp g nutmeg
    • 1/2 tsp all spice
    • 1/4 tsp g cardamom
    • 1 tsp orange blossom water (or 2 tbsp orange juice)
    • 3/4 cup milk
    • 1 tbsp lemon juice
    Instructions
    1. Preheat oven to 180ᵒC. Sift flour, bicarbonate and spices into one container, and put milk, orange blossom water and lemon juice in another.
    2. In a third bowl, cream butter and sugar with a beater on slow, then add molasses, and eggs one by one. Turn speed to medium, and add flour and milk mixes alternating
    3. Pour into a pre-greased or lined pan (I used a 22cm round), and cook for about 45 minutes until a spike tests clean (poke a skewer in the middle and if it comes out fairly clean, it's cooked - if it has goo on it, leave it in)

    Serve warm or cooled. Keeps nicely at room temperature in a sealed container for several days, or can be frozen and later defrosted. Why not try it without the orange blossom and lemon juice, instead supplementing a ripe banana and a little less date dhibs/molasses...?

    The Source

    When I first came to Dubai for a little look-see with my husband, a weekend break to decide if we could ever live here, we were taken around by a French Relocation Expert. This was in 2007, when Dubai was heaving in every imaginable direction - up, out, down, in. The hopes and dreams were even higher than the skyscrapers they were designing, and every man and his dog wanted their piece of the Dubai pie. The population was greater than it is now, and everyone was living in half the number of dwellings. Laborers were working 14 hours a day in 47ºC heat, then being shipped home to the labour camps in cattle trucks. House maids were being paid 500AED a month to work 16 hours, 7 days a week. Beautiful women were flying in from all over the globe to try and land themselves a Sheikh, prostituting themselves, knowing that just a small hand-out could set them up for life. Corruption was rife - the options to recieve an invitation to buy land were being sold for millions, because Cityscape product was sold out in a matter of minutes. Everyone was flipping and tripping, morals slipping, taking their turn on the harem-scarem magic carpet ride.


    Nadira had told us we must "swallow our snake" to live in Dubai. I think it must be a French saying that does not translate well, but I will always remember it. She said that this was a land of golden opportunity for the ones who were already blessed with opportunity, but it was a den of iniquity for those who were not. We would love it here, but only if we walked around with our eyes closed. (She was shortly thereafter sacked, probably to blissfully return to the land of the banned burqa and 7-hour work days)

    She was right. People like me would die in this environment if we did not have the luxuries we receive to prop us up. We are simply not meant to live in the desert. And so, if we decide to stay here, we must wear the guilt. First, we must accept that our environmental impact is unforgivable, but unavoidable. Halas - it is done. Second, we merge our values with the local ones - we take a maid, we stop double-taking when we see workers in the sun in mid-summer from our air-conditioned SUVs. Things will improve Insha'Allah, and it becomes something that has nothing to do with us.

    I've already touched on this in my 'Despicable Me' post. Don't think for a moment that because I am a Jumeira Jane, I am walking around oblivious to the greater problems of this world, just because I blog about free range eggs and organic farmers markets. It's far from the truth. I think about my greater transgressions daily, but the more I think, the more helpless I feel, the worse I feel for doing nothing. Then my own life interrupts me. I have to pick up the kids, do the shopping, help with homework, give a swimming lesson, cook the dinner, put the kids to bed, call my mum. By the time I think about the world again, it is time for a glass of wine, and that helps me forget all about it. Snake swallowed.

    A place where I can make decisions on my impact, whether it be global or local, is what food I provide my family with. And so when I was given the opportunity to visit the Abu Dhabi Organic Farm (the retail outlet is named Al Mazaraa), I excitedly packed Lion into the car for the journey. I had read this article recently, as well as having a comment from an anti-local reader on my Farmers Market post, and I wanted to see what the deal was, ask the questions, do the math, and make my own decisions. Not only that, I wanted my son to see the impact and method of farming in the desert.

    The visit did not disappoint. The farm is about 45 minutes inland of Abu Dhabi city, and just over an hour from Dubai. The entire farm is about 60ha, and consists of 15 Shade houses of 1500m², 12 Cool houses of 1300m², and two nurseries of 480m² - the rest of the land is cultivated in fields or set aside for livestock and poultry.

    To do my experiment, I chose tomatoes, because they lose vitamins quickly when transported over large distances and time, and besides, the ones from the UAE smell and taste amazing. They are also the Al Mazara'a farm's biggest seller. This is what I discovered:
    • 1m² of land in a cool-house contains 2.5 plants and provides 33kg of tomatoes at fruition
    • They require 3.75L (1.5L per plant) of water per day for 7 months = 787.5L (tomatoes are an annual stock - the plant dies, and seeds are collected and reserved for the following season)
    • The water is entirely desalinated stock - not ground water 
    • It takes on average 0.2 MJ per Litre to desalinate water in this region, so the total energy required to produce the water is 156MJ 
    • The sheds are cooled to a constant of 24 degrees - the cooling is not needed for the entire growing season. 
    • The cooling would have a usage of approximately 1000MJ/m2/year. Therefore, let's say 700MJ for the tomatoes to produce their seasonal harvest of 33kg.
    So let's add that to the 156ML I came up with before, and we have about 850MJ to water and cool plants that would usually grow with rain, ground water and fresh air in a more suitable environment. That's pretty horrible - that's like leaving a light (60W bulb) on for 400 hours.... But the alternative is to get our tomatoes from Holland:
    • The petrol required for 33kg of freight is a minimum of about 1.3L/100km
    • It is 5158km from Amsterdam to Dubai and so 67L of petrol is required.
    • Each L of petrol produces 36MJ of energy, and so therefore, the petrol required to transport the tomatoes would produce 2412MJ of energy
    Shaheer, our guide
    Hai Carumba! That's leaving the light on for over 46 days. Just for enough tomatoes for one person to eat for about 4-6 months. And this is not taking into consideration the extra time the produce sits in transport or in-store, refrigerated and/or under lights before we get it in our shopping trolleys. (Yes, tomatoes are practically green when they come off the vine when destined for long-scale shipping) There is a great article here on the pitfalls of transporting fresh fruit and vegetables over long distances.

    The article I mentioned previously that de-bunks the local-is-good theory suggests we bring our food from Egypt, which is about 2400 Km away, so you could halve that cost of transport, but it's still considerably more than the figures I came up with for desalination* - however, the main agricultural area is the Nile Delta and despite being the wettest area in Egypt, the entire area is irrigated (it borders the Sahara desert) with - you guessed it, a large amount of desalinated water.

    In the end, I have decided that there is nothing I can ingest here that is environmentally sound, except maybe camel milk and lobster (even date palms are irrigated). So, like the eggs, I must make a decision that is not based on the environment - what is good for my family. And you can't get much better than local and organic - for taste AND for health.

    --------------------------------------------


    The Abu Dhabi Organic Farm is located off the Sweihan Road, about 1/2 an hour from Abu Dhabi city. The Al Mazaara store is open in the Mushrif area of Abu Dhabi. Some of the produce can be found on the shelves of Lulu Hypermarkets, Spinneys and Choithrams Supermarkets, and at the Farmers Market in Souk al Bahar on Fridays in Dubai.

    The retail arm delivers to Jumeirah Lake Towers on Mondays between 12- 3pm. Orders must be received before 4pm on Saturdays. Contact mazaraa.organic@gmail.com

    Jar Jar Binks

    The Abu Dhabi Organic Farm produce tomatoes, capsicum and chillies, lettuce and herbs, cucumber, mulberries, strawberries, cauliflower (in the chilled houses) and spring onions, okra, zucchini, squash, potato, beans, eggplant, watermelon, dates, passionfruit and more (under shade or in open field). There is also over an acre dedicated to free-range poultry - Chickens, Turkeys, Quail, Ducks and Guinea Fowl. Both meat and eggs are available in the Al Mazaraa store. Other livestock includes cattle, goats, camels and sheep, for the production of milk, laban, and mutton. We met a lovely goat that we called 'Jar Jar Binks', that we really hope is a milk goat, not one destined for the pot. They also have bees for the production of their award winning honey - which is expensive (I bought the middle of the range for 75aed from the market), but amazing stuff that is completely worth the money.

    * I did google searches on energy usage for flight, desalination and air-conditioning, and averaged all similar results from the first two pages. If this was a newspaper, I would have kept the links, but it's not, and I'm completely over documenting it. If you don't believe me, do the research yourself. If you have a source of more exact information, I would be thrilled to see it, as the information available on the WWW is broad and vague, I am not educated in this field, and I am not able to completely trust the numbers. Please leave a comment below and if your information proves beyond doubt to be correct and different to what I have found, I will change my post.

    Easy Baclava

    I discovered a little about baclava while I was at the Al Samadi Bakery recently - the term "baclava" actually refers to the pastry, not the sweets. It's a super-soft mix that is flattenend, then has more layers of the same placed on top, and then is flattened again and again and again until you get a mille feuille style of multi-layered pastry. They then use this "baclava" to make sweets in hundreds of different ways. 

    There is another wonderful style of pastry that abounded in the factory, and that was knafe (or kanafe) - pastry made up of hundreds of threads that can be pulled apart and moulded any which-way. Like Baclava, the pastry has given the dish its name, and if you type kanafe into a search engine, you will get hundreds of recipes for the wonderful arabic cheese-filled desert pie. 

    And do you know the wonderful thing? We can buy both pastries in the freezer at the local supermarket (but baclava is better known as 'filo'). So here is how you make it the easy way:


    Ingredients:

    For the pastries:
    • 1/2 packet filo pastry
    • 1/2 packet of knafe pastry
    • melted butter
    For the sugar syrup
    • 1 cup water
    • 1 tsp rosewater
    • 1 tsp orange blossom water
    • 1tsp lemon juice
    • 5 cardamom pods, split
    • 1 cup sugar
    to garnish
    • coarsely chopped pistachios

    Instructions:
    1. To make the syrup: Put all syrup ingredients in a saucepan on a low heat and simmer for 20 minutes then strain
    2. To make the pastries: Take three leaves of filo at a time, and slice into 1-inch strips (across the short length) and brush with melted butter. Take small portions (about 10 threads) of the knaffe pastry, and fold it over itself to make a sausage shape about about 2 inches long. Then position it neatly at one end of a filo strip, and roll. Brush with butter and lay close together on a tray lined with baking parchment. Cook for about 15 minutes at 180ºC, or until golden.
    3. While still warm, pour the syrup all over the pastries, rolling them to ensure all parts are covered. Sprinkle with pistachios if desired, pressing in a little to make sure they stick.
    Serve when the pastries are cooled. Store at room temperature for two days. They can be refrigerated for a little longer, but it's best to eat them quickly! Baclava can be made in almost any shape or form, with or without nuts, and the syrup can also be flavoured however you like it - try it with star anise, cinnamon and orange rind! The basic principle is to cook the buttered pastry, then soak in the syrup while it is still warm. If you are making a large shape with the intention to cut it, make sure you cut before you cook - the pastry shatters when it is baked. I can imagine a few layers of filo, then ground pistachios, then more layers of filo, then cut into diamonds - yummy! 

    Make sure you keep the left-over pastry refrigerated, and use it for samosas and knafe-wrapped prawns - recipes coming soon!




    Remembering French Provincial Markets


    For the last three years, we have escaped the Dubai heat and travelled to southern France. Languedoc, Dordogne, Cote d'Azur, Var, Vaucluse - we've seen them all. And there's one thing that binds them - something I can't seem to get anywhere else in the world.... Radishes. Not just any kind of radishes - the tiny sweet, peppery rosebud type aptly named "French Breakfast" radishes. I don't eat them for breakfast, but they do taste amazing with a baguette, a slab of butter and Camargue sea-salt flakes, with a chaser of Picpoul or Provincial Rosé. 

    The problem with French Breakfast radishes is that they expire very quickly, and so that's why you rarely see them out of a French Provincial market, so when I saw fresh, crisp ones at the local Hypermarket the other day, I nearly upturned the nearest veggie crate and started singing "La Marseillaise" with my hand over my heart. But what to do with them when the traditional 5 o'clock hors d'ouvres are off the menu? Salad. And I gave them a regional stamp.

    Ingredients:
    • Dressing:
    • Big glug of olive oil
    • Juice of one lemon
    • a dribble of pomegranate molasses 
    • a few drops of rosewater
    • pinch of cinnamon
    • brown sugar to taste (keep it slightly sour)
    • 1 bunch of radishes, halved if they are large
    • Same proportion of baby carrots, also halve the large ones
    • a large handful of fresh mint, sliced thinly
    Instructions:
    1. combine dressing ingredients. If you can't find pomegranate molasses, use a tiny dribble of grenadine (the real stuff), or at a stretch, treacle.
    2. add to other ingredients, combine and serve.

    If you don't like carrots too hard, you could par-cook them ahead of time, but remember the radishes have a nice crunch, so it's best to keep them fairly firm. If you can't get these pretty little rosebud radishes, you could easily make the recipe with normal radishes. For presentation sake, however, I would slice them into thin rounds, and do likewise with large carrots.




    Sheikh Shaq

    When someone in my group of food-obsessed blogging friends started jumping up and down about a burger joint called Shake Shack, I had absolutely thought that she meant Sheikh Shack. I pictured this majlis-style hot spot with a swanky modern take on the Bedouin tent. An elite place for the wealthy local Dubai males to loiter, with a gorgeous Amazon on the door only allowing beautiful women and men in white past the velvet rope.

    I mean, really, why on earth would she be so excited about a milk-shake store?

    By the the time she (Iliveinafryingpan) started talking about portobello burgers, I realized that was exactly the kind of restaurant she meant, and it would be opening in our very own Mall of The Emirates. In New York, the place is so famous that she queued for an hour in the snow to wait for one of these burgers. I think anything would taste amazing after waiting an hour in the snow - your brain would be making your body think it tasted incredible, because otherwise your body might just rebel against it, and walk your crazy brain to the nearest mental institution and commit it.


    So I started to get excited. And as a group (www.tabletalk.me), we all got excited. We were all going together, we'd been invited to this opening as a group - so not only would be be among the first in, but it would be free, and we would be surrounded by piqued palates and like-minds. It would be a food-talking fiesta. This was going to be one hell of a burger kitchen. I mean if people queued for hours, then it was going to be special. Those portobello burgers sounded gourmet. I dressed up.

    I wish I'd worn jeans.

    Possibly it's because of the hype. But I was disappointed - Shake Shack is a burger joint. It might be famous in NY City, but here, it's just one step above Burger King. But maybe I'm being too harsh. The burgers were great - I ordered my own and nibbled on companions choices, and all were good.

    I had the portobello burger, affectionately termed the "shroom". When I went to the counter to order, I felt like a college kid again - in Australia, the term "shroom" refers to Magic Mushrooms, the halucinogenic kind of things Alice munches on with her pipe smoking caterpillar friend in Wonderland. The shroom didn't dissapoint - fortunately it was not filled with psilocybin, but with a combination of particularly drippy cheeses. It was bread-crumbed and deep fried before being sandwiched with lettuce and tomato, and was not particularly earthy or mushroomy - which in any other dish would be a downfall, but in a burger, where it needs to be a meat replacement, I think that's exactly what you need. It's well done.

    The shakes are disgustingly thick sweet concotions they call "concretes" made of frozen custard. As an owner of an ice-cream maker, I can tell you that nearly all ice-cream is a form of frozen custard, so that basically translates as a pint-cup of almost-soft-serve ice-cream. Calories. Sugar. Fat....Kids will love it. I am never, ever, ever, ever allowed to touch that kind of thing, especially the chocolate/peanut butter mix. I did however try a root beer - my first ever. And I'm sorry, probably my last. I know many people love it, but if I want a drink that tastes of medicine and soap, I'll have a glass of wine. (Shake Shack MOE is unlicensed)

    They didn't have the chicken hot-dogs on the opening night, but they're on the way - a sage-infused sausage served with pickled peppers sounds pretty good to me. But I did try the Chicago Dog, which was fairly good as far as hot-dogs go, but really, just a hot-dog.

    What else do I say? For me, a burger is a burger. Unless it's a "shroom", I guess. I had a quick chat to the chef, and think I might give it a go at home - I see it on a breakfast plate alongside a tomato and basil salad and a slab of wholemeal toasted sourdough - it is really, a very clever little snack.

    And will I go back? Of course. As much as I hate to admit it, even a gourmet like me needs to eat fast food every now and then. And they are the best burgers I have tasted in Dubai (except my own) and those concretes will be a great bribe for kids on school holidays.