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.

Mayonnaise - Jar or home-made?

I've tried to make mayonnaise several times in my life. Sometimes it works, and less times it doesn't. There's really no excuse for not making it, of course, because even when it doesn't work, the ways to fix it are easy (I love the way this lovely lady makes her mayo). Except, it's fairly easy to buy good mayonnaise in a jar. But is it good?

Jar mayonnaise is fine for sandwiches, and as an ingredient to mix into other dressings, but when the mayonnaise is the main ingredient in a sauce or dressing, it is obvious when it's store-bought. The other reason to make your own mayo is when you want to play with the consistency. For example, in a potato salad I like my mayonnaise loose and runny - if it's too thick, then when combining, it buffs up the edges of the potatoes, and besides, it's just far too stodgy.


So here's how the slap-dash cook makes potato salad:

Ingredients:

• 2 egg yolks
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• pinch salt
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• 2 tsp mirin or Japanese sweet sauce
• 1 tbsp finely chopped capers
• 1 tbsp seeded mustard
• 1 tbsp finely chopped parsley
• 4 large potatoes - cooked firm, cooled and diced
• ground white pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Using a whisk beat the egg yolks and salt until they are creamy. Then start drizzling the olive oil in bit by bit (not too fast, or the mayo will 'split' or 'break' - link above has the solution to this). This will involve about 5 minutes of continuous beating, so if you are a weakling, use an electric whisk. I like a texture that is creamy, but without peaks. If you like it thicker and whiter, add more oil and keep whisking.
2. Add lemon juice, mirin and mustard while whisking.
3. Combine with the other ingredients, potatoes last of all.

This mayonnaise is an olive-oil based one, and so will carry the pepperiness and bitterness of the oil. If you like it milder, then use canola or sunflower oil. I take the skins off my potatoes, but they could easily be left on.  This is a tart potato salad, and you could also add mild green olives if you like them, or stir through some cooled roast chicken chunks to turn it into a meal.

The Golden Ticket

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I'd like you to close your eyes for a moment. Now open them, because I need you to keep reading. But pretend they are still closed, and take yourself back to age 7. Drop all your baggage, your knowledge, your mistakes, regret, rational thought, tooth decay, and ask yourself - "What do I want to do right now?"

Now girls will probably come to this particular dream after marrying prince charming and riding a unicorn. Most boys after defeating Darth Vader and taking off with his space ship. Charlie was a simple boy - this is the only thing he ever wanted. To visit the chocolate factory.

Now of course, I have not been visiting chocolate factories in Dubai - the whole idea of desert heat and chocolate brings to mind a chocolate deluge of disasterous proportions - Even Willy Wonka's chocolate river would overflow here. But I got to do the adult version of the dream - a chocolate tasting.



Has anyone ever heard of Sprüngli? Anyone? Can you even pronounce it? Try "schproongly" - it's about as close as I could get (not "sprun-glee", as I first thought). I had no idea they even existed, let alone were in Dubai, until I attended a tasting at their office in the Dubai Flower Centre (they also have an outlet at the Movenpick Bur Dubai, called "Sweet"). We were met by Gorgeous Chocolate Women Numbers 1 and 2, who welcomed us with smiles, espresso coffee and a table choc-a-block with hand crafted Swiss chocolate.

I had been on a diet.

Sprüngli are not quite like the standard chocolatiers you see around Dubai, eg. Galler, Godiva, Patchi, Alison Nelson, (who are all worthy of a visit, I must say) - most of Sprungli's sales are direct, and not through an outlet. In fact, their office is an excellent demonstration of "it's all about the product", rather than the appearance of the furnishings. No ambience, people - the party is only in your mouth.

So we tasted the chocolate.

Ok - I'm not going to take you piece by piece, because then you will discover the complete decimation of my diet. My behaviour was really quite disgusting - but what would you expect when you let a hedonista loose in a chocolate depot? But let me say, there is chocolate, and there is chocolate. I've always been a fan of plain, ordinary, creamy, luscious, mouth watering milk chocolate. And there was one little piece looking like a perfect tiny rosebud that was so smooth and pristine in appearance, it looksed like it was slightly melted. Sorry Deb and Samantha (my tasting companions), all mine! Not only was it perfectly firm, and unmelted (until it reached my mouth, anyway), but it also had a touch of hazelnut, and a dried cherry fleck in the center to add a touch of sour and bitter to offset the sweet - clever.

Then the nougat truffle: a chunky praline pyramid, with crispy caramel flecks, nougat and wafer - a little like a toblerone and a ferrero rocher and a Fauchon caramel eclair all rolled into one. Then the white chocolate truffle, which I was eating while Gorgeous Chololate Woman Number 1 was telling us all about the cows and the high altitude and the herbs they ate, which in turn affects the creaminess of the milk, the tiny nuances of flavour, and thus the quality of the chocolate, particularly in an item such as white chocolate, where the flavour is decidedly transperent due to the lack of bitter cacao. It is creamier than a Lindor ball, not as sweet, better, but funkier. Serious white chocolate, and I like it.

Then Gorgeous Chocolate Woman Number 2 opened the box of Luxemburgelis. Done macaroons to death yet? I thought I had too. But these are serious macaroons. A tweet with the heading "best macaroons ever!" received a response that shows that the world is still not sated with these little amaretti-meringue hybrids. The best were the caramel, which has sepia crystalline chunks of salt on top to offset the cloying sweetness of the caramel flavour. The cappuccino has a dark chocolate ganache instead of a butter cream in the center, and I prepared myself for a bitter hit, but it is delicate, slightly sweet, and sure, it has the bitterness, but not the gunshot of it I was expecting. The lemon tastes like a lemon merangue pie - exactly. But the best was the raspberry - inside it has a tangy sweet and sour slither of jelly - perfectly emulating the perfect mix of a fresh raspberry. All macaroons shatter like a thin egg-shell, are only semi-sweet, and have only a tiny little element of chew, and are masterpieces in the art of taste-bud management - it really does not get better than this.

There were some samples that were not as spectacular as I had hoped - the pineapple wedge dipped in white and dark chocolate, was nice, but boring. The Amaretti were lovely, but without the kirsch, missing the bitter/alcohol tang I think they need. The Pistachio macaroons had the almond essence flavour everyone seems to use when making anything pistachio flavoured. But all in all, the taste sensations far outweighed the disappointments.

While I was tucking away my leftovers, trying to make out I was less of a pig than I actually am, I asked Gorgeous Chocolate Woman Number 1 and 2 how they could possibly remain so svelte of limb and skin, whilst working for a Chocolatier. They eat chocolate every day, they say. But I still questioned how much. "Oh, one or two with my coffee", number 2 says. "Ahh, so it's portion control?" I ask. I've never been to good with that. But we discussed the chocolate diet, and the benefits in particular of small amounts of dark chocolate for appetite suppression. And then we talked about Mr Maag.

Mr Maag puts the princess almonds on the Princess Chocolates, and he eats 200 - 300 g every day, and he never gets fat. The reason? He's an Oompa Loompa.

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Sprungli generally ship all their products directly form the factory in Switzerland - yes, that's right, Swiss chocolate cannot be produced anywhere else in the world, so carbon footprint here we come. They ship with dry ice and copious amount of bubble-wrap and very rarely have issues with delivery. Often it is as fast as two to three days, and so even the freshness of items such as macaroons can be guaranteed.

The Dubai office is the only international dispatch. Possibly this has something to do with the UAE postal service? (Still waiting for my Blurb book delivery 6 months and two tries later...)

Chocolates are hand made to order. You can even order boxes to be printed with names or designs, or the chocolates themselves! Many of their orders are for personalised bonbonniere and baby celebratory gifts.

Pricing varies from 50AED for a 55g box of 8 chocolates to 1100 AED for 1.4kg of assorted truffles in a fabric box. The astounding macaroons are 100AED for 16 mixed, up to 320 for 72. And no, they don't do pièce montée - you would have to arrange that yourself.

contact them on ec@spungli.com or +971 4 220 0704 for a full price list

This is an impartial review - not an advertisement or a paid endorsement
 

A Week by the Lake

Grand Hotel, Tremezzo

I had lunch al fresco today, and for the first time this year, the air was marginally on the wrong side of comfortable. It may be one of the last outdoor lunches I get before its too hot.

Yes, that's right, summer is on the way. Most would think that Dubai residents would regard the approaching summer with almighty dread - the Armageddon skies, melting roads, boiling temperaments - it's not for the faint-hearted, especially for those without the blessing of air-conditioning, for whom the summer can often mean illness and death. The body is simply not built to live 24/7 at 48º C. But for the fortunate few, Summer in Dubai actually means Summer out of Dubai. We go to the continent dahlings.

For an Australian, it is actually more expensive to go home than it is to fly to Western Europe and rent a house for a few weeks, and for the last few years, that's exactly what we've done. I've just booked this year's jaunt and I'm thoroughly in the mood, so prepare yourself for a series of French and Italian travel posts "a la Sarah"


Let's see if you can guess where I'm talking about...

Menaggio

Diving in Bellagio

It's a lake, but in this part of the world, they call it "un lago". You must make sure the emphasis is always on the second-last syllable of any words spoken in this country. It becomes "oon laaaahhh-go", and even sounds mystical and romantic when spoken through an Australian mouth. In fact, this may be the only country where the locals pronounce their vowels broader and flatter than an Australian, and so the twangy accent helps one settle in quite nicely.

The lago is the shape of a Mercedes logo without the circle, but if it was encircled, that would delineate the picturesque hills - mountains in fact, that surround the lake - many spotted with medieval villages, chapels on precipices, billionaires hideaways and oft-trampled and yet still pristine national parks.

The lake itself is freezing - the yearly run-off from nearby snowy mountains fills it, and yet bathers still brave its icy temperature in the strong heat of summer. They tiptoe over the treacherous stones on the lido and launch themselves quickly into the water, just to save the soles of their feet. Only for moments though - just enough to take the heat off the sunburn, but not enough for the impending hypothermia. They retire to roses and wafer-thin pizzas served beach-side on red gingham tablecloths by arrogant waiters.

The only other way to escape the heat is to get on a boat. Ferries leave every ten minutes to various townships. The conductors announce them in sing-song voices: "BellAAAH-Jo, MenAAAH-Jo, Var-AIR-nah" - it doesn't matter which one you get on, they're all beautiful. But possibly the highlight of the ferry is not the destination, but the journey. Finally, you get caught in the breeze that shoots itself down the lake but seems to avoid the land, and as you peer over the glittering water, you see the famous villas:

Villa Monastero, Varenna

Ahh, there's the old home of Caroline of Brunswick, the raunchy and tragic estranged wife of king George IV. Now, Villa Carlotta, built for a Marquis, bought by a princess and gifted to a duchess, with gardens to make Lion's grandmother weep. This one set the stage for Misses Bentley and Beaumont to engage in rivalrous flirting with Major Wilshaw. It also held the secret marriage of Queen Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, and the mighty Mr Bond recovered in the shade of it's candelabra-pruned plane trees. A movie star lived in that one, before the paparazzi scared him away. A movie star still lives in that one, and that one and that one. I want to live in that one....

Varenna

But land still holds wonders. The townships are perfect - tourism is hefty, and has sufficiently kept these antique beauties in liquid finance and perfect condition. Bellagio is the most famous. Menaggio is the best place to stay (for a family), but the one that sweeps you off your feet is Varenna. It's card-board cutout terrace houses, magical cathedral, twin harbours, excellent restaurants, and then the impeccable Villa Monastero with its tessellated tiles, Grecian columns, botanical garden and fairytale boat mooring.

The ice cream is heavenly. Wine is cheaper than water. Most of the beauty of the area can be seen for free, or for the price of an espresso, so you can sit at cast-iron tables under brightly coloured canvas umbrellas and watch the world go by. But there is still plenty to spend your money on. My mother and I took an impressionist painting class at Fresia studios – for E120 we got three hours with Jerry Fresia, a professional painter, who traced his educational lineage back to Monet and Gauguin. It was worth it just to sit on his veranda and gaze over Lenno and the distant Tremezzo peninsula, pretending for a moment that we belonged in his incredible villa.

Villa Balbianello, Lenno

Tremezzo Public Garden

You can hire a boat, and scoot it around the lake at your own pace. Stop off the beaten track for a picnic of delicacies wrapped in the Menaggio delicatessen, partnered with a bottle of cheap Prosecco, which for some reason always tastes better in Italy. You can loiter out the front of private villas, go star spotting, pull up at the greatest movie-star of the lake, Villa Balbianello, and imagine that you are a young Darth Vader, recovering James Bond, or the unrequited Miss Bentley.

On a rainy day, you can cross the border into Switzerland, visit Lake Lugano, the non-tourist-filled neighbour, which under overcast skies is filled with opaque aqua water. But you will return – Lake Como, for that is indeed the place I am talking about, is full of tourists for a reason. It is one of the most magical weeks I have had in my life.

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We stayed at the 6-bedroomed Villa Azalea, which is a private villa about 200m walk from the main square of Menaggio, around the corner from a supermarket, and in the quiet part of town. One week was about E1550, which we thought was particularly good value, as the house was basic, but charming in a kooky way, and very clean and functional (and air-conditioned!)

Although I loved Varenna most of all, I would not stay there unless traveling without children – it was full of narrow inclined stone paths, and very busy. Bellagio is the most famous, and a tourist Mecca, with some beautiful hotels, but not so much my cup of tea – just too big and shiny. Lecco is tiny and rustic, and just down the path from Tremezzo, which is stunning but poorly serviced. The hotel there is incredible (the Grand Tremezzo), and is next to the unmissable Villa Carlotta.

Lake Como (or Lago di Como) is only an hour or so from Milan Airport. One week is really only enough time to explore the central lake area - we did not even get to Como. Oh well, another time!