thehedonista: May 2012

Coconut and Jaggery cake

In my constant search for less processed foods, I recently discovered jaggery. Over here in Dubai, it is fortunately very easy to find, and is cheap - ranging from less than the equivalent of $1 per 500g packet up to about $10, depending on quality.

Like sugar, jaggery usually comes from sugar cane (it also comes from sago, coconut and date palms), but it is a softer, crumbly substance made from the unprocessed and unrefined cane juice (simply boiled until it becomes a paste), then poured into moulds to set. It does not undergo any bleaching or refining of any kind, and so retains its natural colour, fiber, mineral salts and flavour. It is known to release energy slower than processed sugar, making it better for people with blood sugar issues.

But the price, process and the health benefits are not the only reason I love it. It tastes amazing. The mineral salts can be detected, and the molasses tint gives it a flavour almost like salted caramel. It is just so much more complex than sugar. It melts easily, can be cut off in shards for nibbling, and can be crushed in a blender.

Ingredients:

3 eggs
150g chopped jaggery
200ml virgin coconut oil
100ml tinned coconut cream (the clear substance drained from the bottom *see frosting)
2 1/2 cups self raising flour (I used Doves Farm Gluten Free)
1 tsp vanilla
pinch salt

Instructions:

Set oven to 180༠C (375༠F). Melt jaggery with coconut oil slowly in a pot over the stove, crushing as you go - try not to get it too hot, because the hotter it is, the longer you have to wait for it to cool to lukewarm.
In a large bowl, whisk eggs, adding drained coconut cream and vanilla as you go. Then add the flour, salt and jaggery mix alternating and whisk gently until there are no lumps
Pour into a greased bunt tin and cook for 35 minutes or until a knife tests clean

For the Frosting:

250g icing sugar
100g vegetarian shortening or margarine
4 tablespoons thick coconut cream *(skim this off the top of the tin's contents before you make the cake and place in the fridge until you are ready to make the frosting)
1 tsp vanilla
pinch salt
(optional) lime zest

Instructions:

start with the shortening and whip up until fluffy, then add salt and vanilla.
continue beating, alternating with additions of coconut cream and icing sugar until you get a cappucino-like consistency
Ice cake cool - it melts easily. Scatter with sifted icing sugar, or if you don't have picky kids, sprinkle lime zest.

Amman, food, rainbows and salt

When I returned from Jordan, inivitably, people asked me if I enjoyed my holiday, and what my highlights were.
"Amman," I would say, "I could live there, I think..."
"Oh, you went to Oman too?" They would ask. Why is that, do you think? It's because the only place anybody seems to hear about in Jordan is Petra. Many even seem to think the Dead Sea is entirely in Israel.

Jordan is a particularly underrated tourism destination, probably due to a non-existant travel advertising budget (although USAID has come to the rescue in a small way). Wadi rum is known to adventure tourists by now, but information available on the web needs a complete overhaul for the less rambunctious to take a dive in, especially overnight.

Amman online tour guides are generally bland, and many will find the information provided at the destination are the same. They talk about the Roman theatre, tell you the Four Seasons is the best hotel to stay, and then suggest you get out and travel to Jerash, Ajlun, a string of desert castles, Madaba and the Dead Sea. But I wanted to stay IN the city. And there is so much to see in and around Amman.

For lovers of food, there is one place you must go - Rainbow Street. It stems off a roundabout of chaotic traffic both morning and night, and winds its way past dodgy bars, dark and grungy eateries and trashy clothing stores. The road itself is cobbled as perfectly as a covent garden square, not by the ancient Romans, but by Jordanian road workers of the turn of the century (this century, not last). As you climb the hill, you will be enlightened by a turn in the scenery - brighter establishments in all senses of the word.

At the top of the hill the sun shines, and you will find toasty, savoury falafel in cloud-like pillows of pita from Al Quds at .50JD a pop. Just have one for morning tea (they run out in the afternoon), as there is much to eat at other places. Try Sufra Restaurant for lunch if you are feeling glam, or Hashem if you're not. Although Hashem has the history, Sufra is an oasis of lah-de-dah Levant royalty with food just as elegant as the restored Victorian/Edwardian interior and bubbling courtyard. It rivals the famous Fakr El-Din, which should be reserved for night, so you can see the glass-house foyer in all its glory (and drink Arak, as we did)

For afternoon coffee or tea, try Duinde or Turtle Green Tea Bar - polar opposites - the former prettily hippy and artisan with reclaimed furniture, art for sale and a sunny corner position to watch the world drift by from. Turtle Green is sleek and contemporary, but with the typical Rainbow St quirk. Modern, but definitely not establishment. And when it's time for sundowners, head to the overdone and awkwardly named Books@Cafe. It's probably seen its heyday, and the young and pretty things are starting to move elsewhere, but it still has a gnarly interior, fairly good music and panoramic Amman nightlight views from the terrace. If you like a grittier, local scene, try Las Tapas, off the other end of Rainbow St, for cheap share plates, a heady atmosphere and live music.

On Fridays when weather is warm, you will find the Jara Souk (a decent blog post with pictures here, and official site here). It follows Rainbow Street's lead, keeping items kooky, hand-made and unique. It's a flea market, and although small in comparison to many in France, is their equal in the likelihood of treasured finds.

Close-by is the trade hub of the city, the section of the downtown area called El Balad. Here you will find the more tradiotional markets, fruits and vegetables and the spice souq (lovely panorama of a spice store here). Wander between the Roman amphitheatre and the lanes off Koraysh and then towards the Abu Derwish Mosque for an afternoon of treating the senses - finishing in front of the mosque and taking a breather while gazing over the undulating hills and lego-like towers that make up Amman.

If you have more time, get in the car and head north east towards the traditional capital, As-Salt (also called simply Salt). It's a photographer's dream of narrow alleys, serpentine stone stairs and lofty washing lines. Sherry Ott has captured much of it beautifully on this site. There's not much to do in Salt apart from wander and soak up pieces of unwritten history, but that's enough for me. Unfortunately it was not enough for my children, who dragged me swiftly out with pleas for the Four Seasons pool and freshly squeezed mango juice from the bar.

In the hills behind Salt, you will find (or may not find, as roads are narrow, forks are many and signs are few), Mountain Breeze country club. Don't be swayed by its drab name - it's not what you would expect. It is in fact a paintballing park, adjoined by a restaurant, garden and picnic area that is awash with as much colour as the battlefield, and a vision something between the Dalmatian hinterland and a scene from Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

The paintballing creates an odd experience, and for one untouched by war as myself, I wonder if many could stand the rattattatt of machine-gun fire while dining, which although subtle would be a sour reminder of other nearby regions and times of conflict. The resort resides atop a hill surrounded by scores of other bumps and troughs covered in creaky old olive groves, fields of vegetables, chalky rocks with goat herds above them and even the occasional cypress. The food is excellent, simple and cheap. But if you don't like that kind of thing you can always bring your own in and dine at the picnic tables (despite a sign declaring 'No outside food', many were doing so). It really needs to serve beer with that view though...

And when you are ready to head to bed, stay at one of the cheapest Four Seasons Hotels in the world (Cheap for Four Seasons, I said, not just cheap). It was one of the most efficient, safe, friendly and well appointed hotels I have ever stayed in. Rooms are modern and large, connect for families, and there are both indoor and outdoor pools. Dining is good (although you really should eat out and see the rest of Amman), and there is a very atmospheric bar, aptly named 'Square Bar' as it is a square, but also has a gorgeous pompous colonial feel that I haven't experienced since staying at the Hill Club in Sri Lanka. The kitchens and in-room dining team deserve special praise for their assistance on finding items suitable for our Gluten-free and Casein-free kids.

But back to the beginning. Why do I think I could live in Amman? There are many places that are wonderful to visit but you'd never want to live there. Tax and weather are issues in London, smog and space in Hong Kong, a total lack of real-life support in the Maldives. But Amman has beauty, character, four seasons (weather, not just the hotel), a bustling community, empowered youth, a respected ruler, magnificent countryside and soul - one hell of a lot of soul. It's a free city that speaks to you if you let it, and I'm looking forward to another visit soon - very soon.

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

Now, if you start searching on Google Maps, you will realise that things like 'first circle' and Rainbow St' are not there. Almost every single address I tried to type in was non-existant. This is because half the streets are called something different colloquially to what google names them, and besides, phonetic spelling of Arabic words has never been consistent. I've popped in some of my favourite places on this map - hopefully it will help

View amman restaurants in a larger map

Where to stay:

Amman Pasha hotel
Budget and downtown.
Heritage House
Superb position on Rainbow street, mid-priced apartments
The Four Seasons
Luxury
The Crowne Plaza
For those who want big brand and close to the action

What to eat:

Lamb Mansaf - slow cooked lamb in dried yoghurt with nuts and usually saffron rice (my shortcut recipe here)

Nabulsi Cheese - White cheese (usually ewe or goat milk) - mainly used in kunafe, but look for it with the mezze where it is tangy and served with herbs and olive oil (Sufra do a great one)
Fattoush - traditional salad so much better than Tabbouleh. Tomato, cucumber, green leaves, sumac and topped with crispy fried bread. Often also contains radish and herbs like mint and za'atar. (my recipe here)
Stuffed Chicken -also known as dajaj mashwi, simply a roasted, stuffed chicken, but often very, very nicely done. Usually stuffed with bulgar or rice, and with a salty and zesty zing. Sometimes prepared with tiny, semi-boned chickens.
Manakeesh - basically an arabic pizza. Often just served with za'atar and sesame, but look for the ones with minced meat (sujuk) or falafel.
Falafel - chick-peas squished and mixed with gorgeous spices and fresh coriander, rolled into balls or patties, then often (but not always) breadcrumbed and finally deep fried. Served either in pita or in a brown paper bag.
Baklava - A bit like the rest of the middle east, sweets here are worth seeking out. Just eat them everywhere, especially from stores rather than restaurants. (sweets similar to those found in Dubai)
Olives - Jordan is one of the world's largest producers of olives, and they are very, very good. I found the green ones to be best, and often served in a spicy and tangy marinade. The ones at Mountain Breeze were stunning. The olive oil is peppery and fragrant, and you will never find it out of the country. Take some home if your customs will allow it.

What to Drink:
Sugar Cane Juice - and other non-descript stuff out of ornate and towering gold urns on the back of wandering teenage boys. Usually it's flavoured with hibiscus (karkadi - awesome stuff), or lemon. It's sickly sweet, icy cold, and the kids will love it.
Sweet Tea - from roadside stalls baked over decrepit gas stoves or hot coals. If it's offered from a shop owner trying to sell you stuff - take it. It's free, and probably not poisoned.
Amstel (brewed locally) - just beer, but support local industry.
Zumot Pinot Grigio - Again, local product. This was probably the best local white I tried - imports are triple the price and probably not worth it.
Arak - Fire in a bottle tainted with aniseed. Drink it well watered with ice and it cuts through the fattier meals like magic. Might even make you want to go out for falafel again after dinner.

Before you go:
Have a look at
Be Amman - an excellent local blog with a food and drink focus.
And Far Away - another blog, written by a girl in converse boots.
Wikitravel and Visit Jordan for a basic overview
Amman Snob - for a fairly comprehensive listing of restaurants, nightlife and shopping, among other things.

Frittata v Spanish omelet

I've made breakfast on new years day for 40 party-sore camping revellers. It was my first ever 96-egg omelet. I made it in a iron pan twice the size of a baby bath dragged out of the garage and thrown over some hot coals left from the night before. It earned me a return invitation for the following year's party, and a reputation - the fact that I could prepare a yummy breakfast for so many people without warning, and with the mother of all hangovers made me a 'good cook'. They didn't know that it was because when I was 14, my mum showed me how to make a frittata, and she's a self-declared 'particularly average cook'.

It's the easiest thing in the world to make - just make a thick omelet with your leftovers and grill some cheese on top. I have one rule with my frittata - it has to contain potato. This is where the whole confusion of the name comes in. Many people call a frittata a spanish omelet and vice versa. Both are thick, and need to be cooked top and bottom unlike a regular omelet, but a Spanish omelet must contain potato, and in fact, often that's all it contains besides the egg and some spices. So, in fact, my 'frittata' is probably a Spanish omelet, especially when I throw chorizo in it. (what it definitely isn't is kookoo - a Persian herb omelet, which sounds amazing and deserves further investigation). But then again, who said a frittata couldn't contain potato...?

Ingredients:

lots of eggs, well beaten (at least 6* or 2 per person)
potato (1/2 per person)
leftovers (e.g. two slices of bacon, 1/2 a cup of cooked peas, shredded roast chicken)
spices (as complementary to the leftovers - e.g. crushed garlic, smoked paprika and mustard seeds)
grated cheese (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Method:

Thinly slice potato, and in a deep and well oiled omelet pan, fry until nearly cooked (don't get them too brown), then add in other ingredients (starting off with anything that needs more cooking, e.g. the bacon, mustard seeds and garlic)
Spread the cooked ingredients loosely and evenly, then add eggs, and cook on a low heat until you can see the bottom is browning nicely (lift up with a knife at the edge.
(Sprinkle cheese on top) Put under a medium-strength grill until egg is nearly firm all the way to the middle. If the top starts to get too brown, cover with foil.

Serve by flipping onto a plate, and accompany with salad or crusty bread or chilli sambal (or all three).
This makes a great dinner for kids when you have no idea what to cook - also perfect for a casual drinks night as it can be served cold and cut into small wedges to be eaten as finger food.

*The dish is simply an omelet if it is not thick - you must use enough eggs to produce at least an inch-thick result. Don't worry, it keeps in the fridge for a day or so.

Other ingredient ideas:

Chorizo, onion and lemon rind
asparagus with garlic and brie chunks
spinach, peas and Parmesan
smoked trout and leeks with horseradish stirred into the eggs

Among Friends - Fooderati Arabia

Friday is a sacred day in Dubai, and not just for those who pray. Less than half the workforce enjoy a 5-day week - for many, Friday is the only day off. Every other day, its unusual to see a man at leisure, but on Friday, they fill the streets, the malls, the beaches. About one hundred men from who-knows-where flock to a carpark near us, and play cricket. All day. Maybe they're labourers, street cleaners, cafe waiters or supermarket shelf fillers. I might see them at other crossroads in my daily life, but if I do, I don't recognise them. On Fridays, uniforms and beige shalwar kameez are swapped for Friday-best jeans with designer buttons and tears, brightly striped polos and cotton shirts adorned with flowers and slogans. They laugh, run, jostle each other - the way Australian men do all day every day. But here, only Friday is reserved for spirit.

Likewise, Friday is a special day for my family. It's the only day our beloved Mary gets off, and so it's dedicated to being a Walton family day. Husbands of wives who have maids are notoriously incapable of handling children on their own, and we have got to the stage where a single day of assistance-free child entertaining requires so much unnatural energy that an entire second weekend day is necessary to recover. Therefore it's easier to ~~battle~~ enjoy it together.

But this Friday I have a date with my other family. These might not have the same gene pool, but we're definitely related - we all have food in our blood, hearts and souls. We are Fooderati Arabia.

Who would have believed that there are over 100 food bloggers in the UAE? We get together in small numbers and large, at official launches, tastings, lessons, radio shows and publicity stunts. Today we gather in mutual love of a fairly new Pakistani joint in Umm Suqeim.

The bread arrives, straight from the hot stone wall of the pit in the kitchen. Do we eat it while it is freshly steaming? No - we photograph it. We swoop in with our prime lenses set to an aperture of 2.4, forgetting to cater for the extra loss of light due to the crowded space. We bump around like hens about a dish of seed, trying to get the best angle, attempting to bring a little atmosphere into an image. The owner of the restaurant looks on in disbelief, as finally the kerfuffle eases and we all sit back. The bread is now cold. Do we eat it? No, only half of us - the rest are on a gluten free diet.

As we discuss our childrens' lunchboxes and labelling regulations of food (or lack of them) in the UAE, my date for the day, goldilocks, falls asleep - drained by ennui. He misses the aloo cutlets and chicken samosa. After another mad rush of lenses, the potato cakes fall prey to my greedy fingers, and I almost propose marriage. I've had aloo cutlets before, but these are creamy on the inside - in a way that is almost surreal and unnatural. But the owner has been assuring us that she has attempted to modernise her cuisine, and move away from excessive use of saturated fats. But they taste too good to be 'good' if you know what I mean. We all gurgle over them and the grilled items that accompany like babies with sweeties. It's quite pathetic really, how excited we all are, but it's OK - we're among friends.

Goldilocks awakens with the appearance of the Nihari. The Indians and Pakistanis at the table are gushing. They know what this is and dive in while the ignorant of us sit back and wait. Goldilocks cries out - he's afraid he might miss out on this treat that all the beautiful ladies are eating before him, and for a moment it gets a little edgy. Finally he settles with some rice and this famous overnight slow-cooked beef, and shovels three mouthfuls in before he realises it is laced with chili. Fortunately the chatter has increased and moved onto an inane argument about the tiny black seeds in the zesty chicken haandi, and they drown his cries and Lamaze style panting. He shifts to the chicken while the battle of onion seeds, nigella and black cumin rages on. (Incedentally, they are all the same thing)

After a mouthful of the Nihari, I put the camera away. The food is too excellent and I don't want to be distracted. My Custard Pie grabs her Nikon and walks straight into the kitchen to photograph the unprepared cooks. I'm not sure she would want to know what they were saying in Urdu in between the spurts of both dismay and laughter. She winks at me as I steal a quick last shot, "I never would have done that six months ago..." she muses cheekily. We all grow in different ways

Today's banquet arrives with compliments of the establishment, but I've used their delivery several times previously. I'd joined the girls believing I would pay for today, thinking it was only a gathering in mutual respect for our discovery of a jewel in the Dubai take-away crown. Bonus. As our bellies fill, the noise levels droop and other diners can finally enjoy their Friday brunch in peace. We all wallow in the after-curry slurry, more stuffed than we usually would be because our companions have urged us to taste everything twice, three times, to assess, evaluate and inspire.

Gulab jamun arrives. We stare at it, unmoving until Goldilocks starts to fight a path to this sugar, gluten and casein filled sweet. He's not supposed to eat this kind of thing, but for the moment, I cannot move. He eats three balls before I can drag the spoon away from him, then covers me in cardamom syrup fingerprints as he pleads for more.

Chai makes its steaming entrance as I look at the clock for the first time - not with desire to leave, but with worry I have overstayed. Hambone will be entrenched in an eight-year-old playdate by now, and probably getting grumpier by the second. I've stolen his sacred day away and had a clandestine play with fellow food-monsters while he has assisted with homework, given a swimming lesson and made pancakes for hungry gremlins. Oh well, luckily for us, we get a second shot at the weekend, and I might make it up to him with a doggy bag...

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You can follow me, my friends and our culinary journeys on www.fooderatiarabia.com - it's an aggregate site, featuring links to the posts of around half of our members. Some do not post on the Fooderati blog, but you will find links to all the individual food blogs we have come across in the region on the site. We are all different - some provide recipes, others restaurant reviews, some concentrate on nutrition, some have amazing photographs of food around the globe. There are professional chefs who share their work diary, and then lush mums like me who talk a little bit about everything.

Regarding Kabab BQ, As I mentioned, I have tasted their food several times before. Together with the Nihari and Aloo cutlets, make sure you also try the Mutton Shammi Kabab - the best I have had in Dubai, their monstrous grilled prawns, and the soft and silky Chicken Reshmi Kabab. The delivery menu and details can be found linked here. I must say that every attendee on this particular day went away thrilled - I did not have a bad dish, and when all the Fooderati agree on something, you know you are onto a winner.

And a little bit of fun for those who think we're all mad....

When running hot water is a luxury I could live without - Wadi Rum

I must confess, I'm a little five-star. I think living in Dubai has done it to me - the surreal world where even mall toilets are glossy and four-star hotels have l'Occitaine toiletries to steal from the bathrooms. My husband used to tease me about it, until I dragged him down this costly path, but age and custom have made him worse than me. This trait of ours is perplexing, particularly in myself, because I come from a long line of penny-pinchers. Each time I travel, I must struggle to find an equilibrium between the level of luxury desired and the money I am prepared to spend. I have a rule - no more than $300US per room per night - and the closer I can get to $200, the better. And, of course it has to have everything...

But what is a luxury trollop like me supposed to do when the prices in an area where I desperately want to visit range from $14 to about $140, and the star-levels rest firmly under three? A place where a private bathroom, running hot water or even a door are each the factors that give the establishments one of their stars. Or should I call them 'anti-establishments', as only the plumbing keeps them rooted in the one spot, and it appears many don't even have that?

While searching for accommodations in Wadi Rum, I kept crying out "Were is my Al Maha desert retreat, or Bab al Shams?!" I searched and searched - surely one camp sits above the others, preferably one with a toilet...? But no - reviews on the camps are varied, and generally with comments like "OMG this is the best place EVA!" followed by a "This place sucks. The food was burnt and the whole camp smelled like poop". So I asked my guide, Wael Saleh, and he steered me towards Bait Ali.

There are some places in the world however, where the luxury you think you want is not the best you can get. In Wadi Rum, the luxuries are the knowledge of the desert guide, the view from the rock he perches you on to watch the sunset, the size and position of the clouds, the people you meet in the cafe tent by the mushroom rock, the heat of the tea you are served, the sandiness of the place you happen to be standing when the afternoon wind comes in, the chance of getting bogged in your ancient Landrover, and the spirit of your driver when you do so, the size of the crowd when you get back to your camp, the mood of the chef and the food he decides to prepare you. The list goes on, but you might begin to get the picture - your personal comfort in Wadi Rum will not rely on the winelist, the air conditioning, the threadcount of your sheets or the quality of the bathrooms - no, luxury comes from a bunch of intangibles that are hard to put a price on. And, unfortunately, it will be as hard to predict as your own mood when you get there.

It's not a coincidence, and should be embraced. The desert, after all, is an unpredictable landscape, and millions of people have lived or died by its whims over the ages. If Sir Lawrence had not been able to take advantage of the erratic and hostile reputation of this enormous Wadi in Summer, when the Ottoman Turks could not possibly have believed that an army could cross it, history might not have had the Arabs take back Aqaba.

Wadi Rum is not designed for toilet blocks, air conditioning units and swimming pools. I realised this soon after we arrived at Bait Ali, after we met Okhala, our guide with the crinkled face, light-of-the-moon smile and dusty suit jacket. Once he took us away from the bagged mustard walls of the permanent camp that is Wadi Rum's only attempt at semi-luxury, away from all signs of overhead wires, we began to see what the Wadi is all about. While sitting at the Mushroom Rock under a camel hair tent, around the coals of a firepit, sheltering from a sudden sandstorm and drinking free tea, I realised I didn't want to stay in a chalet. I didn't want a shower, and a glass of wine, grilled chicken the kids would actually want to eat, and a lamp to read my book by. I wanted a bedouin story told in an accent I couldn't understand. I wanted zarb, a bedouin barbecue cooked in the pit, while I warmed my desert chilled toes. I wanted to go to bed dirty, lie on the floor with my kids and giggle until we fell asleep in each others arms.

So my advice. If you simply cannot forgo the luxuries, then stay at Bait Ali. It's in a fairly good position, has running water, chalets with private bathrooms, and even has some tents if you want. But, if you really want to experience Wadi Rum, do as I did not, and stay in a tent. Go remote, take a risk, and shut your big trap as soon as you even start to think complaining about the facilities. I'm not interested, simply jealous, because you will have the time I wished I had.

The following camps come with personal recommendations from friends:
Rum Stars
Jordan Tracks
Wadi Rum Sunset Camp

Bait Ali can be found here. I will say it is probably very suitable for those with mobility problems due to its paved areas and easy access. My elderly parents would have loved it, and loathed a more traditional camp.

I have since discovered this crowd online - apparently they set up a temporary camp, and it's pretty flash. Scott Dunn Holidays. It gets the Independent's vote here

As for Wadi Rum and what to do, there is a map below fairly freely available on the web (click on it for a larger view). Many would argue the greatest sights, but the rock bridge and seven pillars of wisdom are the un-missables. Personally I think the time of day is more important than the rock you are looking at. Dusk will never be more beautiful. See the rest of my Wadi Rum gallery here.

Zuma - a Dubai constant

Zuma's still got it, or so it would appear. Seven pm on the dot passed us by, and so we arrived at 7:10, for our early sitting, and already the venue was filling. After being spirited up to the lofty bar in a brushed steel lift to watch the after-work crowd sip Bellinis, the maitre'd tried to find our booking. It's gone, disappeared into the dusty summer wind no doubt, but no matter, with table found, we teetered down glossy under-lit stairs in our smart casual shoes to the restaurant.

An island of smiling chefs bustled over ingredients efficiently, simultaniously bidding us welcome, while we were shown to our window table. Dubai's day was yet to set, and we found our twilight view to be a carpark strewn with bricks and desert refuse. I complained to my companion, who shruged her shoulders "It's quite a fitting portrait of Dubai, I think. Construction, dust, a lone tree clinging onto life against the odds." She'd just arrived that morning and been greeted by a heatwave. Her love of the city at this stage is meagre.

Our waitress explained the izakaya style of dining Zuma follows - we are to share, with food to arrive as soon it is ready. So some spicy tuna tataki, ramen and the day's special scallop salad was ordered, with a promise that we could order more as the evening progressed if we wished. Service was swift, and within moments we were sated with spicy edamame and a reasonably priced (for Dubai) 2010 Martin Codax Albarino.

The tuna arrived first, seared lightly and in slender angled slices amongst pickled daikon and crispy fried garlic. It dwelt in a ponzu sauce with a dollop of neon orange chilli, which the waiter stirred in for us. The tuna has a texture unmatched elsewhere in Dubai - meaty yet soft, even, stringless and without the floury, jello-like mouthfeel we often get here. The sauce was overly salty, but grew on us, especially after the fish was gone and we were left with only zesty pickle and spice to nibble.

The scallop salad came next, and although, again, the seafood was of excellent quality and cooked perfectly, this dish was unbalanced and uninteresting. Standard ingredients like mesclun and shredded daikon and a sprinkling of what I think is shichimi was encircled by a necklace of pearly scallops. Some tiny white frilled rings in the salad were chewy but otherwise dull. After throwing around some seafoody suggestions, we asked the waitress what they were. "Funghi" she said, to our surprise. And when we asked what kind, because we have never seen any mushroom that looks or tastes like this, she tells us "shitake"... No... After a trip to the kitchen, she came back to tell us it's radish... No... We are awful, I know, to make her take the squiggly morsel back to the kitchen to find out, but eventually discovered it was a mussel's muscle.

And here, I'd like to break the menu to have a little rant. This restaurant has just made it to number 83 on the San Pelligrino Worlds' Best Restaurants list. And yet their staff are not trained properly. I'm not expecting everyone to know what a mussel's muscle looks like, but even I know what a shitake mushrooms is, and there is probably a little pile of daikon on nearly every plate that leaves a Japanese kitchen. She was polite and efficient, but did not know enough about the food. It's an old story here in Dubai, but in my opinion remains unforgivable, particularly if they want to retain the status that a Worlds' Best mention gives them.

But back to the food.

The ramen was not a soup, but a dry dish - well textured but not overly flavoursome. Not necessarily a downfall, but it would have been preferential to have this served as a side dish, because that is exactly what it was. I'd give it a miss next time. Still hungry, we ordered the black cod, a signature dish for Zuma, and now a favourite of mine, since my discovery at Hashi a year or so ago.

As we waited, sipped, supped and spoke of home, the music increased in volume. As seems to be the standard with all of Dubai's swanky Japanese restaurants now, Zuma is also a bar. Upstairs the glamazons filed in, seeking bankers and lawyers who had already been three sheets to the wind by 7pm. And within a few minutes after 8pm, we could hear nothing but music. No more talk for our table, we drank and nodded, watched the beautiful crowd, and followed the angles of the smoothly linear interior, trying to find zen in our inner Japanese sand garden until the masterpiece arrived. I've raved about black cod before, so will not overly do so again. Trust me, it's dense, flakes off in bite-sized chunks and dissolves in the mouth like a wedge of salted butter. This black cod in hoba leaf is a good one, and should be ordered at every visit.

Our night concluded with this dish - our bellies and clocks out of space, so we moved on before we were shuffled off the table at 9pm. With a frown on my friend's face, "I wonder who chooses the World's Best Restaurants?" she asked me, as we wove our way through the waiting crowd at the door to take one of the many taxis pulling in and unloading. And I couldn't help but nod, even though I know the answer, as last year I was one of the many who voted. I nodded because although it's a good restaurant, it's not superb. Off the top of my head, I can think of three meals from the last six months that were far more inspiring, and those restaurants made it nowhere near the top 100.

The reason? Zuma is a Dubai fallback. It is one restaurant in Dubai where you can go at any time and have a good (but probably not great) experience. And unfortunately that is rare in Dubai. This can probably be reflected in the only other MENA restaurant to make the cut - La Petite Maison (96), which is another good restaurant in Dubai, but in my opinion, not so special. Is it fair that crowd-pleasing, but fairly uninspiring restaurants are touted as our best? Probably. It's a sign that other restaurants in the region need to become more constant (but hopefully not too predictable). Honestly, how hard can it be?

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Zuma Restaurant
DIFC gate village, Dubai (google maps)
website: www.zumarestaurant.com/zuma_db
online reservations here
ph. +971 4 425 5660

Open daily for lunch (12-3) and dinner (7 to midnight)
Set brunch on Fridays
Lounge and bar open until 2am, 3am thursday and friday.

Note - Zuma does not permit the taking of photographs of either their interior or food. I managed to grab a couple of the scallops and ramen before I was asked to put my beast away. The other images are from Zuma's own website.

Drinking up Jordan

One evening a few weeks ago, I found myself sitting before a Palestinian and a Circassian in a Lebanese restaurant in the Jordanian capital with my Australian husband, who like me, is a resident of the United Arab Emirates, drinking Syrian Arak. It’s a funny thing, this drinking in Muslim countries. Even after living in one for the last four years, and travelling to several others in the region and out if it, I’m never really sure if it is taboo. And to make matters more perplexing, our companions were Muslim, and they had ordered the booze.

“I was born to Muslim parents,” the Palestinian said. “That makes me Muslim, but it's not a choice I have actively made... Yet.” It’s a tricky subject. The Circassian nodded in assent. “Besides,” she said, “Borders are blurred here. It’s the Levant. We’re children of Nomads, Christians, Russians, Persians, Africans, Jews, Bedouin. Who knows what rules we are meant to follow?” They refilled our glasses, and then their own, the clear anise liquid tumbled over ice in tea glasses, and topped it up with water to cloud and dilute it.

This region is home to the most ancient history of drunken ancestors. Beer originated in Mesopotamia, the distillation of spirits probably started in Egypt (although the Greeks have clearer history), and the Persians were making wine 7000 years ago. It is probably a reasonable conclusion that God came to the Prophets in this region and warned the people to abstain, but also an ironic twist of fate, and certainly stroke of bad luck to the alcoholic beverage industry.

Jordan is over 90% Muslim, but it’s not hard to enjoy a dram. Arak is the tipple of choice for many - it's drunk on the rocks, or long or short with still water, with or without mint, and similar to other anise drinks such as Ouzo and Pastis, is usually taken as an aperitif. It's sweet, fragrant, cleansing, and strong enough to make you beat your leg on reflex like a dog getting a belly-rub. It's made all over the region, with quality ranging from rocket fuel to boutique moonshine. Lebanese versions are the most popular, and arguably the best, but the Syrian versions apparently use a higher quality anise. Jordan makes a few versions of their own too. Order it by the glass - or, if you are with friends (like ours), by the half bottle (350ml) with a bucket of ice and a bottle of water. Personally, I'd like to see an Ammantini - possibly some Jordanian Arak with a squeeze of Syrian blood-orange juice shaken over saffron infused ice-cubes...

After quite a few centuries break, the Jordanians continue make their own wine (and beer, arak and whiskey). Up in the north, among the hills surrounding Ibrid stretching towards the eastern deserts are where the best examples seem to be found. Zumot lead the way, with the very quaffable St George red made of the strange combination of Cabernet Sauvignon and Pinot Noir. It's on just about every restaurant winelist (those that serve alcohol), and a good fall-back. They also make a very clean and flavoursome Pinot Grigio, which is harder to find, passed over in preference of their blousy chardonnay, and often more unfortunately a soapy Mount Nebo white blend. Other growing regions include the Jordan River Valley, on the fertile plains just north of the dead sea (possibly the only vineyards in the world at a negative altitude?), or in the rocky folds around Madaba. Zumot also have a small organic vineyard at Ma'in, where they produce wine for the Six Senses Resort, which amongst others joins their reasonable reserve range.

Jordan are not the only ones making wine in the region. Lebanon is probably the only country making any form of vinous waves, predominantly with the label Musar. Smaller labels to include on the radar are Cave Kouroum, the mildly priced Clos de Cana, and the continuously improving Chateau Bellevue. Syria also strive to make wine in their superb landscape, and until recent times had been marked as the country to follow regarding winemaking in the region. Lets hope that the likes of Bargylus can continue amongst the unrest. North Africa also continues to produce wine against what would appear to be environmental odds, particularly in Morocco, where the French have invested more time and money than you would imagine to paint the mountains and dusty plains green with vines. There is even an appellation system of sorts, with one "quality wine" AOC (in the Atlas Mountains) and 14 AOGs ranging from the northern border with Algeria to the western coast. Chateau Roslane appears to be one to watch out for.

But what remains of concern to many is not necessarily the quality, but the presence of this dubious substance in countries where religion bars it. So for those who sympathize with WC Fields, who said: “Once, during prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.”

Lebanon, Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Algeria, Morocco and Turkey do not have any ban on alcohol, apart from what westerners would regard as standard licensing procedure (i.e. some restaurants serve alcohol, some do not). Iraq also has no ban on alcohol, but premises selling it seem to be a magnet for attack.
Libya, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Hamas controlled Gaza ban the import, sale and consumption of alcohol, (heavily) punishable by law. Embassies are exempt.
Some countries have an official ban, but overlook minor use for non muslims, such as Iran, where the ancient vineyards now only produce 'table grapes' (wink, wink) and in Sudan, where there is a love of local date brandy.
In the UAE, Bahrain, Afghanistan and Qatar, foreigners are permitted to buy alcohol, which is sold usually only to the licensed at liquor stores, and to foreigners at hotels and clubs.
Other countries have a moderate approach - Tunisia seems to allow only wine, except for the "tourist" zones, Morocco prohibits the sale of alcohol only during Ramadan.

In all countries that do allow it, perhaps except Turkey and Lebanon, it would be fair to say that alcohol is not as prolific as in other parts of the world. Unlike Australia, don't expect any point in a city to be walking distance to the local pub and a bottle shop. You may just die of thirst before you stumble into a watering hole over here... Mind you, there are always taxis.

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