Not The Farm

I have a pet hate of misnamed brands. I've had a go at Jones the Grocer for this. There are others that spring to mind - The Meadows - a region without meadows, Arabian Ranches with no cowboys, and now, The Farm. Where the livestock have pelts of Massimo Dutti and Chanel, and graze on eggs Florentine and pistachio waffles. Where the flora is bougainvillea, Millingtonia and Petunia, their only fruit to bear the atmosphere they create. Where farmhands carry trays and platters, barns are bespoke danish design meets Balinese languor. Animal noises are upper class titters, mewling babes and the tapping of impatient feet with polished leather soles.

No - not a farm. An oasis, perhaps. A hackneyed word in the dusty middle east, I know, but possibly the closest its modern form has ever taken. An island of tropical luxury between desert and construction debris, six-lane highways and obtuse inland highrise. When at The Farm, you can't hear the roads, see the sand, smell the pollution or hear the hammering. Oliver Robinson from Time Out describes it as a scene from "Lost". Before reading that, I myself had though of Jurassic Park - it's constructed, sure, but so dense on the perimeters it successfully transports you to another world. A jungle road leads you in, and within seconds from leaving the 311, you'll find yourself winding through the palm wrapped jungle path of the Al Barari development (Arabic for the wilderness) to its flagship restaurant. It too is green, tropical, sleek and classy, sheltered and cocoon like. It has its own babbling brook and glittering pond. White fans spin silently overhead, creating an ambiance of colonial comfort in a wild outpost and generating the same emotions I find in famous old bars like those in the Galle Face Hotel or Raffles. It's beautiful, has taken Dubai restaurant design a step further, and will be difficult to match. I find it hard to name another venue in Dubai where one feels so completely displaced from everyday Dubai daily grind. Add to that, the food's good, the coffee is reasonable, and the prices are lovely. And so I'll forgive the farm for their silly name.

 
The only real problem I have with this restaurant it is that it is not sustainable. I'm not talking eco green warrior hippie tree loving organic bio-dynamic sustainable (although there are probably a few issues here - but not more than any other cafe that has a stab at this happily thriving niche of the market) I'm talking good, old-fashioned, economically sustainable. I just can't make the numbers add up. And so, despite me, and some others enjoying this relatively new venue quite relishingly - enough to bother to drive out to whoop-whoop and do the insane 18km u-turn - I can't see it being a financial success. And so that makes me worry. How long will it stay?

Firstly, it's on about an acre, and nestled in the billionaires hideaway that is Al Barari. That has to make it one of the most expensive restaurant properties by total land value, there is in Dubai. It's in the company of venues like (another strangely named) At.mosphere up the top of the Burj Khalifa - where prices reflect the soaring heights - and the sprawling beachfront Nasimi of Atlantis with its money making capacity of approximately 5000.



Secondly is their prices. They are just too good. It's fairly easy to eat a good sized breakfast or lunch for about 45AED if you're happy to stick to one simple course. Panko Crusted Tiger Shrimps as a starter are 30 AED. The salads at around 35-50AED are substantial and make an easy meal, but if you really want extra, then even some Goong Mangkorn Sos Horapa – Lobster in Thai Basil Sauce is only 65AED, and desserts all sit firmly under 30AED. Maybe they are making their profits on coffee, which is 25AED (Hot chocolate 29AED), which seem a little off kilter with the rest of the menu considering it does not come with a gold plated cookie alongside.

Thirdly is the quality. The Farm's policy commands they "select only the finest ingredients in the preparation of its food, most of which are locally grown and organic... ethically sourced and prepared, with emphasis on fine produce and a taste for nothing but the purest combinations." Now - we all know how expensive organic and sustainable food is, not to mention the economic cost of quality. I must admit I do wonder at the possibility that "most" of the menu ingredients are locally produced, but I'll agree, the food is of a very high standard. I've tried their smoked salmon, beef, bread, eggs, salad, juices, coffee and more. Not a whole heap of ground breaking going on in terms of recipe, but the food appears to match the mission statement in "most" ways very well. But it's not just the food - the finishing is dead posh. Menus are on iPads (pity you can't just order and click though - would save a whole heap of waiting for service, and make the gadget actually have a viable use). All white leather, canvas and recycled timbers, glass, perspex and bamboo - outdoor seating in pods, sofas or hammocks, water features as large as a Boeing 777, gardeners raking up falling petals around the clock. It's not cheap looking this gorgeous, and I expect if I also got Etcetera Living to design my lounge interior, then I'd probably wonder why I didn't buy an island instead.


Lastly, it's the capacity, and the desire (and possibility the capability) of the staff to fill the restaurant. The interior apparently seats 80, but of that, half of it is lounges, where they would not serve us food - only drinks. This leaves summer dining at about 40 covers per service, provided every single seat is taken. Outdoors holds three other areas - one of which is relegated to events it would appear, and has been closed on both occasions I've been - and a garden with seating again, where diners are unable to, ahem, dine. The dining pavilions left would at an estimate hold another 80 combined, but this includes two very large tables (12+ pax), and I am unaware of their communal dining policy.

Now. All this might still be sufficient to generate an income IF the staff knew how to efficiently turn a table. After a blissful breakfast earlier in the week, I returned for a Saturday lunch, without booking, at mid-day, hoping I could slide my family of four briefly onto a late-reservation table. The interior had only one table taken at this point, and outside more than two thirds of the tables did not have diners at them. Reserved tables were clearly marked with the time of the booking. Despite that, it took fifteen minutes for me to persuade the maître d' to allow us to sit at a 1pm reserved table for a quick feed. At moments it was a little on-edge, and if I had not just done an 18km U-turn, and had kids saying it was the prettiest restaurant they had ever seen, then I would have high-tailed it out of there with my nose in the air. Especially when the maître d' in a period of visible inaction said "Please be patient, Madam, " insert sneer, "You do realise I am doing you a favour here..." Oh. Really? And here, I thought I was the one paying... Eventually, we ate very easily in the 45 minutes that remained, and left the table at 12:58. We then wandered around the garden and sat in the swinging chairs for at least 20 minutes. When we left at about 1:30, the restaurant was still less than a third full - both inside and out. Our own table, I noted, was still unoccupied. My husband will never return. I'm divided - it's just so damn beautiful....



This, coupled with another friend's experience, where their reserved and confirmed booking disappeared and they were turned away without an apology or any attempt at a rescue (another blogger incidentally - she may write about it soon, and I will link up), makes me believe they cannot be taking much more than about 8000AED per lunch service, even on the weekend in good weather. I used to take that in a quirky licensed city cafe the size of a bathroom on a weekday lunch. How long can a take like that in a place like The Farm continue before the books are so red they'll never see black again?

In Dubai, there are many businesses that appear to fail the first rule of business - they should make money. Just look the empty stores in the Gold and Diamond park, the waterside desolation on a weekday lunch at the Dubai Mall, the bored staff at designer boutiques in elite corners of the Mall of the Emirates, the five-star hotel restaurants that seat only 10 people on a Thursday night, half of which are dining on Entertainment vouchers. Most are a misunderstanding of the market, probably stemming from the pre-2008 idiom following the lines of  "build it and they will come". They built it, but nobody came. The people either are not there, can't afford it, or they just don't want it. The Farm does not seem so doomed as this. People ARE coming. They DO want it. But are changes going to come soon that make the venue profitable? Or will we see another gradual decline in quality, and eventual closure or at the least another white elephant. My faith in the way things in Dubai works says the latter. Please, people, prove me wrong.


The Farm

Al Barari, Opposite Falcon City.
Phone: 04 392 5660,
www.thefarmdubai.com
info@thefarmdubai.com

 

Caldora Trebbiano d'Abruzzo 2011

Trebbiano is one of the highest yield grape varieties you can get. So it's always pretty cheap. Would it help if I called it Bombino Bianco? That sounds better than common cheap white, doesn't it? And it should - this is a quite explosive little number. The equivalent in Italy of a cheap grassy Antipodaen Sauvignon Blanc, but better, more lemony, subtler, yet still aromatic. This particular one has about 15% Malvasia, which lends it a little strength and backbone. It's citrussy, has some herby spicy notes - more thyme and straw than the grass you often find in Sauvignon. It has a ripe and pear like front palate, and considering its price, a very reasonable length. Great every-day drinking wine.

Drink now
35AED + tax
14/20

Cossetti Barbera d'Asti La Vigna Vecchia

I played wine options with my husband on this wine. He first picked it as New World (as against old), and then as Spanish (rather than French or Italian). He finally got the grape variety (I offered him a choice of Barbera, Sangiovese and Merlot). He was way off on vintage. But he's a fairly good wine taster - why? It's because this wine tastes much younger, more vibrant and more fruit driven than many would expect. It's almost a little like a serious Beaujolais - all dark cherries and spice with nuances of raspberry and vanilla on the finish. Body is medium, tannins are light and acid is fairly soft. There's a little earthy hint to the middle palate, but nothing like the rusticity you might expect to find in an old vine Italian wine from a time-tested region. Quite clean actually, and dangerously quaffable - especially in this climate.

Drink now or for 3 years
80AED = tax
15/20

Chapoutier Bila Haut Blanc 2009

This white is from is a relatively small and high altitude vineyard, from a fairly hot wine growing region by french standards (Côtes du Roussillon). So what you get is a wine with both warm and cool characters - lowish acid combining with a cool honeydew melon fruit. It's both neutral and full, has a little spice and medium body, and a gorgeous earthy character hard to put my finger on - almost like biting into a piece of ripe brie. The blend is grenache blanc, grenache gris and macabeu - three varieties relatively unknown by new world drinkers. Everything is understated. Unlike it's red brother (Les Vignes de Bila Haut), it will not recieve great acclaim - but it's still a very drinkable white, albeit not for lovers of NZ Sauvignon Blanc.

Drink now or next year
45AED + Tax
13/20

Gluten Free, Dairy Free cupcakes – as easy as 1, 2, 3

It’s amazing where your best recipes come from. This was my son’s maths homework. His male, non-cooking teacher sent home a recipe that was to be used to practice multiplication. He sent home the ingredients for 6 cupcakes, and asked students to make him 12 or 18 at a time. With my kids being on a gluten free diet, I substituted the self raising flour mix by Doves Farm. I also substituted the caster sugar for some coconut sugar I had just picked up from the organic shop (less processed = better for the soul). The recipe was already dairy free.

It’s one of the only cake batters I’ve made that does not contain milk or at least a liquid substitute, and I was convinced it was going to be rock hard – not so. Eggs are mighty little ingredients. Recipe below makes 6 cupcakes – but can easily be multiplied, as my son can vouch for.


Ingredients

• 60g margarine (softened)
• 60ml packed grated palm sugar
• 60ml self raising flour
• 1 egg
• 1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 180 C, then beat margarine and palm sugar until fluffy, then add egg, and beat well.  
2. Shift to a wooden spoon and stir in sifted dry ingredients.
3. Put into cup cake pans and bake for 10 – 12 minutes or until springy.

Ice if you like, but really, they’re lovely in their simple state, especially warm from the oven! These could easily be altered for school lunchboxes by switching the cocoa for vanilla or orange zest, and halving the sugar.

Re-finding Flamenco

The intensity is a little disturbing. It's not often I get wrapped up in dance, but I suppose it's more than that. She stamps her feet like a child with a tantrum, shakes her fists, slams her hands on her tiny little hips and makes the earth quake. I cower into my sangria. The music stops. She stands statue-still for an uncomfortable moment, proud nose in the air. Then she smiles. As the guitarist strums a softer tune she sways her hips, lowers her head and studies her own gentle feet, now making circles on the parquetry, and peeks up at us from under lashes, coyly grinning. We smile with her. Until she says 'Ole!' again and switches moods like a bitch in heat. I'm in love.

Flamenco fits in this country. It makes me wonder why we don't see more of it. It's an amalgamation of Arab culture and gypsy emotion, and after all, we expats are all gypsies of a sort (for me, the very bourgeois sort). It's impossible not to liken the Cante to the wail of the mosque. I can't understand the words, but I see the passion that is so often linked to Arab people. He sings so fiercely, I'm frightened at some times he's going to blow an artery. The Baile (the dance) is proud and dominant, and the female figure is used in ways that display the incredible power of this 'frail' sex. It reminds me of the way some women in abayas and hijabs in this country attain both individuality and attention despite their demure uniform.


The guitar is red and glows behind the dancers. These vibrating strings what I came for, but the dance is so strong I find I have to close my eyes to hear it properly. Then I can't watch the guitarist - the way his fingers move at lightning speed, mistake free though he never once looks at them. He's too busy in turn, watching the dancer in red. Is there something going on there? This music is like blues - the chords and the tempo just hit me right in the heart, and I feel like I could sing along with no prior knowledge of the tune. It's melody that fits, predictable, but I like it that way.

And do you know where I saw this? Sitting in the synthetic neon glow of a "Biggles British Pub" sign on a terrace at the Millenium Airpot Hotel. It is the best Flamenco I've encountered since a cave in Granada, 17 years ago. Not only that, it's the best live act I've seen in Dubai. Ever. They handled it beautifully - from the food and wine (Spanish of course - some clever ceviche, incredibly juicy lamb kebabs and the rustic and vibrant "Sangre de Toro" wine were the highlights) to the service, the acoustics and the venue design (on the terrace with a great view for all and a gentle breeze to toss down with your paella). Unfortunately it's a one-off for them - and at 290AED per person including food and drinks, I have no idea how they made any money off it anyway - but it's another one of those 'don't judge a book by it's cover' venues that merits a second look. After those lamb kebabs, I'm going to give their BBQ night a go.  

Performer for the night was Carmen Iniesta and her team - another female dancer, a singer and a guitarist. Between them they made as much noise as an orchestra.

Dubai has a sad lack of Flamenco. You can see it occasionally at Seville's, who had a festival in April this year with a stack of flamenco acts - let's hope it happens again. You might also see a bit down at the Spanish pavilion at Global village.

When it comes to any good live acts in Dubai, you'll quite often find it in the most unassuming of places. It seems the five-star venues have an adoration of Sade, washed-up-never-has-beens and cheap synthesizers set perpetually on bossa nova. Music is just another thing in Dubai that never manages to hit middle ground properly. Dubai constantly hands us big name quality at a high price, or miserable rubbish on a very expensive silver platter. Where can I go for a good local blues band and a nice glass of red? Probably nowhere (please illuminate me if I'm wrong). But worth a try are The Music Room and Jambase who actually have some quality regulars. If you can handle the fun without the booze, try The Fridge in Al Quoz, who have some of the better acts going around.



If you want to go and see real Flamenco head to Granada in Spain (check out the Alhambra while you're there) and try one of the following:
Pena la Plateria - the oldest flamenco club in town. Local artists, Thursday and Saturday only (I think)
Eshavira Club - smaller club for those in the know. You'll get jazz or flamenco (or both)
Jardines Zoraya - a bit more touristy, but in a lovely area near the Alhambra.

(But I'm going to try and catch some in Marseille next Summer. I hear there's a thriving flamenco culture there.)

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

Disclaimer: Millenium Airport Hotel invited me as their guest for the evening, for which I am very grateful, as I would never have found out about the event otherwise. I would have paid double what they charged.

Villa Sandi Pinot Grigio 2011

Well this one's a surprise. During wine training I remember someone telling me a good Italian Pinot Grigio would taste like bananas. 15 years later, and I've finally tasted one. This is not your typical insipid crowd-pleaser, but a full and serious wine. It's jammed with flavour, and yet still finishes dry and neutral with that trademark bitter almond lash that keeps it firmly in the relam of 'food wines'. Fruit flavours are mainly up front - banana of course, a little marshmallow and fresh star anise. Apricots are a merest nuance twisting through the middle and back palate. Luverly.

Drink now and for 3 years
AED 65 AED + Tax
17/20

Torres Vina Esmarelda 2010

This is a wine that is hard not to like, at least for the first glass - exceptionally fragrant, and yet deceptively dry. But it's also like a beautiful woman wearing a stunning perfume, just a little too much of it. The fragrance (lychee, jasmine and ripe, ripe pears) can overwhelm all around it, and rather than dissipate as you drink, it almost grows and dominates the palate. Many would not agree, and would argue that it's almost grape-burstingly-textured muscat and luscious Gewurztraminer is a perfect accompaniment to meals so traditionally full of flavour they dominate the wine (e.g. a Thai green curry). I would say it's a gorgeous, clever wine, but just for an aperitif with your melon and jambon, and then onto something a little more neutral.

Drink now or for 2 years
45AED + Tax
14.5/20

Mumm Cordon Rouge NV

Mumm (pronounced on the short side of mewm, not "mum" as many say it) is on the gentle side of the spectrum. It's just sly of dry, seeming to have a higher dosage than many of the other big names. The acid is a little lacking for moi - but with Champagne, many would say this is a personal preference - some simply can't drink the steelier styles and would love this. Fruit flavours are relatively simple - a little yellow peach and dried pear, and there is the trademark Champagne marmite character also shining through. Quite golden in colour, and showing some nice honeyed development, but in my opinion, not the best at the price point.

Drink now or over 3 years
AED 240 + Tax
13.5/20

Batheeth pies

Wow - haven't posted a recipe in ages. It's silly season again, that's why. Only time for silliness, nothing else. In the midst, I have been preparing some Christmas recipes for Ahlan Gourmet. They are a twist on the original, and bring a little of the Middle East into the traditional English recipes.

The first is Batheeth pies - a replacement to mince pies, which incidently I hate. I love looking at them, but they're so rich and unbalanced that I rarely find one I like. These however I have been eating by the dozen. Batheeth is something I was introduced to by a fellow food blogger -  La Mere Culinaire - at her own home (I wrote about the experience here - fab day, cooking with her mum.) It's a date and spice mix, with flour and ghee to bind. Very commonly seen on Emirati tables - it's very easy to make, and tastes great with a coffee (or gahwa)

Ingredients:

For the batheeth:

• 1 cup plain flour
• 1 ½ cups chopped dried dates
• 1 tsp ginger
• ½ tsp cloves
• ¼ cup good quality ghee
• 3 cardamom pods
• pinch salt

For assembling the pies:

• Shortcrust Pastry – about 300g
• 1 egg, beaten
• Rolled fondant icing

Instructions:

To make the batheeth

1. Place the flour and dry spices in a dry pan over a medium heat, and stir occasionally until it is lightly browned (about 10 minutes, careful not to burn, as it turns quite quickly)
2. Put the ghee and the bruised cardamom pods in a small pan on a low heat while the flour is cooking
3. Loosely chop the dates and add to a food processor, topping with the cooked flour and the ghee (pods strained off). This can be done by hand – chop the dates as finely as you can and stir well to combine. Feel free to get your fingers in there to mix it thoroughly. Place in a bowl in the refrigerator.

Next... Preheat oven to 190 C

1. Roll pastry to ½ cm thickness and use a cookie cutter to make about 18 medium rounds. Brush with egg and bake for 10 minutes, or until golden.
2. Remove from oven to cool slightly.
3. While the pastry is cooling, take the batheeth mix and mould piece by piece (I used mammoul moulds), and place each one atop a pastry biscuit. It’s best to do this while the pastry is warm (not hot) so the mix adheres well.
4. Use fondant icing and cut shapes with moulds to decorate ‘pies’ once they are cool.

Serve at room temperature. Will keep for at least 3-4 days. Best not to refrigerate, or the ghee will solidify.
Other recipes will be availble in Ahlan Gourmet's December 2012 issue. 

 

False Bay Chenin Blanc 2011

The 2010 release of this wine was fab at the price, and this is a good follow-up. Interestingly though, the brighter season has provided a little more fruit ripeness that in my view tips the balance to sweet just a little over the well weighed wine of last year. Lovely yeast characters (wild yeast only), creamy and tropical, and ever so slightly like salted caramel apple pie. Would be perfect with barbecued crays or at least some sweet prawn flesh with old school dipping sauce. In fact, great BBQ wine to replace cheap Aussie Chardonnay if you feel like something different. Good value.

Drink Now or next year
40AED + Tax
15/20

I'll give you a tip...

Warning - Rant Forthcoming

I'm a sucker.

I tip everybody. I tip cab drivers who drive over the speed limit. I tip hairdressers who charge me too much. I tip the manicurist who keeps on telling me I have old-lady-hands and weird feet. I tip the barrista who burns my milk, and I tip the waiter who gives me service that stinks like a monkey's armpit. And I know why I do it. I know how much these people hate their jobs. The pay is abysmal. The work unrewarding. There is no chance of promotion. At least that's what I keep telling myself as I put in a few extra dirhams for a taxi driver who made me carsick, or the waiter who brought me the wrong meal, again.

The other reason I do it is because once upon a time, I worked a job that paid tuppence and I relied on the tips for a life. Tips were my after-work drinks, my trips to the cinema, and then my books for university and even my mortgage for my first tiny matchbox flat. They were the things that sent my life from work-sleep-work-sleep-work-sleep to work-play-study-invest-sleep. They turned my groundhog day life into something that was a steppingstone to a better life, and not only that, I can even look back on it now and say "Those were the days".

So, I would smile. I would bow, I would grovel, I would pander to absurd requests. I would be sweet in the face of complete arseholery and ignorance. I would meet groping and lechery with politeness, sexism with a smile and disgusting manners with a blind eye. I would dodge abuse from chefs who had forgotten to cook something I asked for. I would take back 'corked' wine that wasn't corked. I would apologise for things that weren't my fault. And despite all that, I would still make gorgeous lattes, remember who ordered what without having to write it all down and repeat it twice, get the food to the table on time, deliver the children's menus and even manage to fend of potential faff-ups with the odd plate of free olives or glass of house vino. And I never, ever spat in anyone's food.


It was hard work, but I got tipped, and well. I deserved it. I had to put it in the pot of course, and each night 90% of the waiting team would inwardly groan as the 10% who didn't deserve tips put in nothing to split. But we'd share and be grateful. It was a charming way to measure the pride in our work, because that's how it goes back home - if you deserve it, you get a tip. If you don't, then you don't. There's always misers of course, but they're a dying breed fortunately.

So why is it so different over here? What's it going to take to get a little pride in delivery? I'm sorry, I know I sound like a total ponce. But I've put in my own hard yards, and now that it's my turn to sit on the other side of table, I'm being dished up sour grapes. And so I've decided. The buck stops here. Tips no more.

There are three types of bad service that really get my goat, and you see them all here, sometimes all in the same venue, or even in the same person. Mostly here, I see unskilled service. Either someone has lied on their resume, or the owner thinks they can throw people into service with no training. There will plenty of waiters - too many even, running around like crazy but achieving very little. You will wait for a table until somebody decides they have the authority to seat you. That somebody will probably be you. You will probably get the lunch menu at dinner time. The staff don't know what's on the menu, so any questions asked will be met with blank stares. You won't find out about any specials until you have already ordered. Your coffee will be both boiled and burned, your wine oxidized, and your juice served in a dirty glass. Meals will arrive at different times, and probably at the table next to you before they reach your own. Waiters will appear both meek and stressed, and it will be hard not to feel sorry for them. You will probably never see the same one at your table twice though - they're too busy trying to figure out what they are supposed to be doing. When you receive the bill from an obsequious manager who seems to have appeared out of thin air just at the time money is required, you will weigh the cost with the cons and wonder why you didn't just cook your own dinner.

The next most common is negligent service. You book a table for two, they set it for four. You are seated and wait for five minutes before you finally ask for the menu. You ask for the drinks menu, because they forgot to bring it. You ask again. It's 25 minutes before you have a glass of water in front of you. You're starving. You have to call the waiter over to get them to take the order. They take your food order. They forget your bottle of wine. You ask for it. You ask for it again. They don't bring any bread. The food arrives before the bottle of wine, and even though there's only two of you, and the waiter had to fetch his notepad to write down your order, he can't figure out who ordered what. One of them is wrong anyway and has to be sent back. The correct one arrives as soon as the other meal is cold.You ask for the wine again. He smiles and walks away. You finish your meal and someone else brings the wine. Your waiter comes up and asks if everything is OK. He ignores the empty plates and walks away. All floor staff suddenly disappear. You pour your own wine. You've run out of water. Finally a bemused busboy wanders out and every single diner grabs him for something or other. You ask for your bill. You wait ten minutes and the wait staff appear again. You ask for the bill again. And again. It arrives and it's wrong. It takes ten minutes more to get he right one. It has a survey card inside and you fill it out with a whole heap of ticks in the "below average" boxes. As you leave, you see the waiter throw it in the bin with a shrug. You will leave wondering why you paid for so little care and how come you didn't just cook your own dinner.

Lastly, there is arrogant service. This can range from a cute and actually welcome pomposity through to some sadistic form of abuse, making you wonder who is actually being paid for the privilege. It all depends on the intensity, and the skill-set behind the veil of conceit. It's expedient to have a waiter who knows what they are doing, and ever so gently takes the wheel, driving the diners through the best possible experience. It's another thing altogether to be sneered at, ignored, belittled and emotionally slapped around by a snooty little upstart who severely needs to be dealt the hard hand of discipline. Waiters will be attractive, or think they are attractive. They will never address you nicely or call you 'sir' or 'madam' unless it is accompanied by a snarl. You will be ushered to your table, offered the "still or sparkling?" then ignored. Waiters will wander around appearing to check on tables, but in fact avoid any eye-contact with diners whatsoever. Corked wine will be your fault, and may even be refused exchange. Meat over-cooked or undercooked likewise is your problem - you should not have the audacity to order it any way other than the chef likes to cook it. Anything that messes with their routine will be met with contempt. Everything will take a remarkably long time to arrive, except of course the bill. It will probably have something wrong with it, but that will be your fault too. The bill-fold will be checked for a tip as you stand up to leave, and whether or not you receive a perfunctuary "Come again," or a boot on the backside will be dependant on the amount left in there. Either way, you will leave with your tail between your legs, wondering why you didn't just cook your own dinner and ask your husband to yell at you.

I got all three forms of bad service in a lunch on Sadiyat Island in Abu Dhabi last weekend. It was just enough to make us complain between ourselves but begrudgingly hand over the payment. We won't be back - no matter how turquoise that water was and how tender that (70 AED) beetroot cured salmon was. It's just not worth it. That lunch was the straw that broke this camel's back. If 377 room five star hotels can't train their staff, supervise and organize them, and stipulate that they must be polite to customers then I don't know what hospitality in the UAE is coming to .

The greatest issue over here is that there is no real way to complain. There is no sense at all in taking it up with the staff. The untrained ones will probably cry, the negligent ones forget, and the rude ones will ignore your comments. The management obviously don't see a problem, or see the problem but have no inclination or opportunity to fix it. The owners are most likely absent. You can fill out a survey card, but it will be binned or framed depending on your response - very rarely reflected and acted upon. You could talk with your feet, and never return. But someone will. They may be a new resident or a tourist, but unless the health department shuts them down, UAE restaurants, even the terrible ones, have this remarkable resilience - they just stay open. You could always blast them on Trip Advisor or Time Out. But you can be guaranteed that most readers will immediately place you in the 'holier than thou' slot of dining crazies. 

The other problem is that we keep forgiving the venues, when we really should be forgiving staff and holding a grudge against the management. We consider the lack of part time work contracts, visa stipulations and charges, racism that seems to deem that only citizens of developing countries can perform certain jobs, a culture that believes that 'unskilled' work (which actually requires skills) is allowed to be unworthy. We get angry at ourselves for getting annoyed, because over here, it's blatantly obvious that life isn't fair, and if you have the money to sit in the dining chair, then you don't have the right to complain about anything, particularly how somebody who has a terrible life treats you.

So, my solution is to name the places where we get great service. A couple of restaurants I have reviewed as just good rather than excellent could in fact be Dubai's best value dining experiences. It's because someone actually serves you what you pay for. Food is the easy part. What managers need to focus on is that stress, discomfort, embarrassment and confusion are all supposed to be missing from service - otherwise we might as well tackle the cooking and the cleanup at home. So, finally a big pat on the back for La Petite Maison and Zuma, who have the most consistent good service in Dubai in not only my own opinion, but many other residents. Waiters are in the main, efficient, knowledgeable and friendly. For a little left of field, try Hoi An at the Shangri La, where you get old-school British colony style subservience mixed with a little modern pomp, by considerate and super efficient Vietnamese waiters. 

I'd love it if you could add your own suggestions in the comments. I don't care what level of dining it is - whether it's shawarma with a smile or caviar with a foot rub. I promise I'll make any effort to go where you send me, because I'm going to start feeling the bad karma of not tipping soon...

P.S For those who need to know, tipping in UAE restaurants (barring fast-food chains) is not required, but is expected. Until this day, I would tip 10% for average service, 5% for bad and 15% for good, with a 150AED ceiling on tips per couple. I'm at the generous end of normal. Or at least I was...

Oman - Birkat Al Mawz

I read recently that Oman is actively trying to embrace tourism, but it's not yet that evident all over. The country has built all its five star hotels in one city, most of them far enough out of Muscat so nobody ever actually leaves the resort. There is an outrageous lack of street signs, even in Arabic. Historic and natural wonders tend to close over public holidays. You can only fly to Salalah from Muscat, and it's 1000 kilometres from everywhere. All the most beautiful areas only have unlicenced hotels. There's no McDonalds on the highways. They have an overt love of squat toilets and an apparent loathing of toilet paper. Crisps only seem to come in chilli flavour. The list goes on.

An efficient tourism industry is something that is not built overnight, and like many countries that open up after long periods of touristic dark ages, Oman is still on the bottom rung of the ladder that sees Paris and the Maldives at the top. It's a country with plenty to see, that is of little doubt. The problem is finding the sights. It's interesting watching different economies realise that the tourist dollar is something they want, and how they go about getting it. In Oman's case, it almost appears like they believes they can come out and say "it's ok to visit, we want you", and all will be well. I'm sure that's not actually the case, and that what I am looking at is a work in progress rather than complete arrogance. It simply shows a tourism budget in infancy, something that needs growth to grow, if you get my drift. Like Jordan, they kind of have to wait for people to come before they can put more effort in. But the question remains - will people come if it remains so hard? Chicken and egg issues are at play.

Google active map linked here

So, I'm going to do my little bit for the Omani Tourism Department - and give you the pointers you will need to get you to some of the good bits over the next few posts.

I'm going to start with Birkat al Mawz, because it's pretty much the starting point for a trip to the great unknown that is the Hajar Mountains just inland of Muscat. It's not on Google maps. It's definitely not on Apple Maps, who can't even manage to find the interior city of Nizwa, no matter how I spell it. It's about halfway between Nizwa and Izki, on the northern road, just a few kilometers from the Golden Tulip Hotel. Not only is internet mapping deplorable in the area, so are GPSs and signposts. So I suggest you learn arabic, or bookmark the positions before you go, or, the best solution, go with someone who's been before.

Google active map linked here

Let's assume you finally get to Birkat al Mawz. You'll see the fort. It's close to the entrance of the village, and signposting will send you there. It's also at the base of the road that leads up Jabal Akhdar, the green mountain (more on that later). It's old, beautifully symmetrical, turretted, carefully restored,  houses an ancient and large falaj system and palm groves. But if it's Friday, a public holiday, before 10, lunchtime, after 4, or the wind's blowing from the north east, then it will probably be closed. That's a pity, because this is the only thing you will find information on when you research the village online. But don't give up.

Wave at the locals milling around the gazebo - talking cricket, trading goats and smoking cigarettes, then jump back in your car and go where you you think you probably shouldn't, into the belly of the village. There's no signs - don't even bother to look for them. Just go straight where the signposts point you left to the fort. You'll go over some sky-high speedbumps, so take it slow and watch the modern candy coloured and double-storey arabic housing give way to the more traditional walled and inner courtyard single story dwellings. Palms hang over white crumbling stone and doors made of aluminium, emblazoned with tulips and crecsent moons are coloured with jade, turquoise and rust. Soon, you will see streets to the left that don't end in white houses or russet mountain, but in sepia ruins. And then the ruins will also be on your right. Keep driving slowly - they're one layer back, behind the show house on the corner. Park. Walk.

Make your way towards the mountains - you'll pass locals. Some will stare. Some will glare. Kids might chase you, practice the English they're learning in school, ask you back to their house, but Father will probably step out and rush them inside as soon as he sees a camera. Practice your few Arabic phrases, and you'll probably get a nod and a smile from all of them.

Soon you'll see that the rendered and whitewashed walls have finished, and you'll be confronted with weathered Adobe brick in 50 shades of beige. It's muddy, riddled with straw and powders to the touch. It's no wonder the ruins are so, but a shame. Much of it still stands - enough to see the form of a village - walls, arched windows, stairs, caved-in floors, painted wooden ceilings.  The falaj still runs through the lower sections. Palm plantations fringe the outer buildings. The sky is stark and blue above you, as it always is in gulf. No clouds even for company. It's deserted, completely abandoned. Walk through at your own risk. There's no barriers, no fee, no health and safety, no people. Just you and a totally cool ghost town.

I could go on explaining, but I'd rather show than tell - photos by the hundred were taken that day - some below.