Food Sheikh

“I want to eat that dish that makes you cry.”

That was the request from The Serb as we travelled the length of the city to Jumeriah and Sufret Maryam - the second chapter in Chef Salam Daqqaq’s astonishing restaurant journey.

In some ways, food is the great leveller.

On a Friday night, there were families, friends, cultural differences, different religions, beliefs, different histories and different futures, all coming together as equals.

Menu items like Fatet Mousakhan, Yafa Orange Juice and Watermelon Soda remind us of the importance of gastronomy in protecting cultures, and history.

And humanity.

A restaurant table may strip away the complexities of identity for an evening, but the very food we share is a reflection of the societal structures that shape our world.

Never better illustrated than Sufret Maryam – a haven for peace, conviviality and tolerance, serving food from a culture under dire threat and extreme distress.

The Serb wanted to eat the dish that makes you cry. Take your pick.

Silky hummous, moreish meat dumplings, charred and chewy Khobez bread and shish tawook so soft you could cut it with a spoon. And of course, the famous, emotional Tarsheeha dish.

The waiters, creating table real estate out of thin air, transformed our table into a banquet of premium comfort food.

With Chef Salam checking in on you from time to time, this is comfort dining at its finest.

Chef Salam is building something important with Sufret Maryam.

Legacy, generational dining and cultural guardianship, all wrapped up in a homely, embracing restaurant that welcomes you into its arms, in a mothering, loving hug you didn’t know you needed. Less

“I want to eat that dish that makes you cry.”

That was the request from The Serb as we travelled the length of the city to Jumeriah and Sufret Maryam - the second chapter in Chef Salam Daqqaq’s astonishing restaurant journey.

In some ways, food is the great leveller.

On a Friday night, there were families, friends, cultural differences, different religions, beliefs, different histories and different futures, all coming together as equals.

Menu items like Fatet Mousakhan, Yafa Orange Juice and Watermelon Soda remind us of the importance of gastronomy in protecting cultures, and history.

And humanity.

A restaurant table may strip away the complexities of identity for an evening, but the very food we share is a reflection of the societal structures that shape our world.

Never better illustrated than Sufret Maryam – a haven for peace, conviviality and tolerance, serving food from a culture under dire threat and extreme distress.

The Serb wanted to eat the dish that makes you cry. Take your pick.

Silky hummous, moreish meat dumplings, charred and chewy Khobez bread and shish tawook so soft you could cut it with a spoon. And of course, the famous, emotional Tarsheeha dish.

The waiters, creating table real estate out of thin air, transformed our table into a banquet of premium comfort food.

With Chef Salam checking in on you from time to time, this is comfort dining at its finest.

Chef Salam is building something important with Sufret Maryam.

Legacy, generational dining and cultural guardianship, all wrapped up in a homely, embracing restaurant that welcomes you into its arms, in a mothering, loving hug you didn’t know you needed. Less

“I want to eat that dish that makes you cry.”

That was the request from The Serb as we travelled the length of the city to Jumeriah and Sufret Maryam - the second chapter in Chef Salam Daqqaq’s astonishing restaurant journey.

In some ways, food is the great leveller.

On a Friday night, there were families, friends, cultural differences, different religions, beliefs, different histories and different futures, all coming together as equals.

Menu items like Fatet Mousakhan, Yafa Orange Juice and Watermelon Soda remind us of the importance of gastronomy in protecting cultures, and history.

And humanity.

A restaurant table may strip away the complexities of identity for an evening, but the very food we share is a reflection of the societal structures that shape our world.

Never better illustrated than Sufret Maryam – a haven for peace, conviviality and tolerance, serving food from a culture under dire threat and extreme distress.

The Serb wanted to eat the dish that makes you cry. Take your pick.

Silky hummous, moreish meat dumplings, charred and chewy Khobez bread and shish tawook so soft you could cut it with a spoon. And of course, the famous, emotional Tarsheeha dish.

The waiters, creating table real estate out of thin air, transformed our table into a banquet of premium comfort food.

With Chef Salam checking in on you from time to time, this is comfort dining at its finest.

Chef Salam is building something important with Sufret Maryam.

Legacy, generational dining and cultural guardianship, all wrapped up in a homely, embracing restaurant that welcomes you into its arms, in a mothering, loving hug you didn’t know you needed. Less

Greatness is often seen only in hindsight, but just sometimes, a moment lets us glimpse a future legacy with striking clarity.

Tucked away in Motor City’s Neighbourhood Food Hall, the north star for community gastronomy, Chef Aphisith (AJ) is creating something very special.

Say hello to Al Naqa Lao Kebab House.

Three kebabs, a salad and a dip. That’s the menu.

Yet, it is a mighty menu, despite its diminutive size. Beyond the extraordinary flavours, it’s what the menu represents that allows it to shine bright.

Behind the menu is a creative vision and a call for legacy. A desire to inspire and educate the next generation of cooks.

Chef AJ believes a chef’s real legacy isn’t about how many magazines know them, but how many young cooks have become better because of them.

And he’s doing it through three kebabs, a salad and a dip.

The lamb kebab is marinated with black lemon, tamarind, lemongrass, ginger and other aromatics. The beef kebab is angus beef with wagyu fat, lemongrass, lime leaves, sumac, red onion and Lebanese spices.

My words (and photos) don’t do the flavours justice. Chef AJ advised me to squeeze the lime over them, add the fresh coriander and mint, and enjoy them all in one go. “It’ll make the flavours light up in your mouth,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong. He was absolutely right, in fact. East meets Middle East with impeccable resonance.

Al Naqa is a very clever concept, rooted in authenticity, driven by a higher calling and advancing this new ‘Dubai’ cuisine - a flavour fusion of innovation, driven by young, talented third culture chefs.

Al Naqa Lao Kebab House opens next week, and I have a feeling all the magazines will soon want to know Chef Aphisith and his team.

And I’m not saying this article had anything to do with it, but I’m not saying it didn’t either. Less

Beyond those Noren curtains adorning Itadaku’s unassuming entrance lies a profound sense of authenticity.

Itadaku’s intent is clear - ‘We would like Itadaku to be not just a restaurant for eating, but a restaurant where you can also experience Japanese culture’, the menu explains.

I’d forgotten how efficient service is in these establishments. Meticulous mise-en-place means dishes are prepared, plated and presented often in seconds.

This resulted in impeccable timing, with dishes arriving just as we finished the previous one. I assumed it was because I had lived in Japan for four days and was ‘in sync’ with the rhythm, but it was probably just the mastery of the service team.

We ordered several small plates after navigating the Tardis-like menu.

The best chefs act as guardians of quality, and you intuitively trust them to uphold the integrity of ingredient and technique.

@masaru.sakagami is one such chef.

His menu proudly showcases provenance, calling out specific farmers and fields, celebrating Japanese ingredients and techniques. Shout out to Farmer Takeda for his awesome sweet potatoes.

The food was outstanding – possibly the best series of dishes I’ve eaten this year.

We started with pickled cabbage, to put the Serb at ease. The chicken meatballs were light, fragrant and delicate, the teriyaki sweet, fatty and moreish. Hard to believe they came from the same animal; such was the difference.

The wagyu beef was a winner. The Serb claimed she sensed its greatness by its aura alone. It was succulent, decadent umami on a stick.

The vegetables were next – the shiitake’s simplicity, the sweet potato’s sweet heat, and the eggplant’s complexity – they should be poster children for vegetarianism.

As we left, the team’s enthusiastic ‘Arigatou gozaimashita’ was infectious. I found myself thanking every table on my way out.

Well done for creating another great restaurant so far from where I live. Less

Beyond those Noren curtains adorning Itadaku’s unassuming entrance lies a profound sense of authenticity.

Itadaku’s intent is clear - ‘We would like Itadaku to be not just a restaurant for eating, but a restaurant where you can also experience Japanese culture’, the menu explains.

I’d forgotten how efficient service is in these establishments. Meticulous mise-en-place means dishes are prepared, plated and presented often in seconds.

This resulted in impeccable timing, with dishes arriving just as we finished the previous one. I assumed it was because I had lived in Japan for four days and was ‘in sync’ with the rhythm, but it was probably just the mastery of the service team.

We ordered several small plates after navigating the Tardis-like menu.

The best chefs act as guardians of quality, and you intuitively trust them to uphold the integrity of ingredient and technique.

@masaru.sakagami is one such chef.

His menu proudly showcases provenance, calling out specific farmers and fields, celebrating Japanese ingredients and techniques. Shout out to Farmer Takeda for his awesome sweet potatoes.

The food was outstanding – possibly the best series of dishes I’ve eaten this year.

We started with pickled cabbage, to put the Serb at ease. The chicken meatballs were light, fragrant and delicate, the teriyaki sweet, fatty and moreish. Hard to believe they came from the same animal; such was the difference.

The wagyu beef was a winner. The Serb claimed she sensed its greatness by its aura alone. It was succulent, decadent umami on a stick.

The vegetables were next – the shiitake’s simplicity, the sweet potato’s sweet heat, and the eggplant’s complexity – they should be poster children for vegetarianism.

As we left, the team’s enthusiastic ‘Arigatou gozaimashita’ was infectious. I found myself thanking every table on my way out.

Well done for creating another great restaurant so far from where I live. Less

Greatness is often seen only in hindsight, but just sometimes, a moment lets us glimpse a future legacy with striking clarity.

Tucked away in Motor City’s Neighbourhood Food Hall, the north star for community gastronomy, Chef Aphisith (AJ) is creating something very special.

Say hello to Al Naqa Lao Kebab House.

Three kebabs, a salad and a dip. That’s the menu.

Yet, it is a mighty menu, despite its diminutive size. Beyond the extraordinary flavours, it’s what the menu represents that allows it to shine bright.

Behind the menu is a creative vision and a call for legacy. A desire to inspire and educate the next generation of cooks.

Chef AJ believes a chef’s real legacy isn’t about how many magazines know them, but how many young cooks have become better because of them.

And he’s doing it through three kebabs, a salad and a dip.

The lamb kebab is marinated with black lemon, tamarind, lemongrass, ginger and other aromatics. The beef kebab is angus beef with wagyu fat, lemongrass, lime leaves, sumac, red onion and Lebanese spices.

My words (and photos) don’t do the flavours justice. Chef AJ advised me to squeeze the lime over them, add the fresh coriander and mint, and enjoy them all in one go. “It’ll make the flavours light up in your mouth,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong. He was absolutely right, in fact. East meets Middle East with impeccable resonance.

Al Naqa is a very clever concept, rooted in authenticity, driven by a higher calling and advancing this new ‘Dubai’ cuisine - a flavour fusion of innovation, driven by young, talented third culture chefs.

Al Naqa Lao Kebab House opens next week, and I have a feeling all the magazines will soon want to know Chef Aphisith and his team.

And I’m not saying this article had anything to do with it, but I’m not saying it didn’t either. Less

Greatness is often seen only in hindsight, but just sometimes, a moment lets us glimpse a future legacy with striking clarity.

Tucked away in Motor City’s Neighbourhood Food Hall, the north star for community gastronomy, Chef Aphisith (AJ) is creating something very special.

Say hello to Al Naqa Lao Kebab House.

Three kebabs, a salad and a dip. That’s the menu.

Yet, it is a mighty menu, despite its diminutive size. Beyond the extraordinary flavours, it’s what the menu represents that allows it to shine bright.

Behind the menu is a creative vision and a call for legacy. A desire to inspire and educate the next generation of cooks.

Chef AJ believes a chef’s real legacy isn’t about how many magazines know them, but how many young cooks have become better because of them.

And he’s doing it through three kebabs, a salad and a dip.

The lamb kebab is marinated with black lemon, tamarind, lemongrass, ginger and other aromatics. The beef kebab is angus beef with wagyu fat, lemongrass, lime leaves, sumac, red onion and Lebanese spices.

My words (and photos) don’t do the flavours justice. Chef AJ advised me to squeeze the lime over them, add the fresh coriander and mint, and enjoy them all in one go. “It’ll make the flavours light up in your mouth,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong. He was absolutely right, in fact. East meets Middle East with impeccable resonance.

Al Naqa is a very clever concept, rooted in authenticity, driven by a higher calling and advancing this new ‘Dubai’ cuisine - a flavour fusion of innovation, driven by young, talented third culture chefs.

Al Naqa Lao Kebab House opens next week, and I have a feeling all the magazines will soon want to know Chef Aphisith and his team.

And I’m not saying this article had anything to do with it, but I’m not saying it didn’t either. Less

Beyond those Noren curtains adorning Itadaku’s unassuming entrance lies a profound sense of authenticity.

Itadaku’s intent is clear - ‘We would like Itadaku to be not just a restaurant for eating, but a restaurant where you can also experience Japanese culture’, the menu explains.

I’d forgotten how efficient service is in these establishments. Meticulous mise-en-place means dishes are prepared, plated and presented often in seconds.

This resulted in impeccable timing, with dishes arriving just as we finished the previous one. I assumed it was because I had lived in Japan for four days and was ‘in sync’ with the rhythm, but it was probably just the mastery of the service team.

We ordered several small plates after navigating the Tardis-like menu.

The best chefs act as guardians of quality, and you intuitively trust them to uphold the integrity of ingredient and technique.

@masaru.sakagami is one such chef.

His menu proudly showcases provenance, calling out specific farmers and fields, celebrating Japanese ingredients and techniques. Shout out to Farmer Takeda for his awesome sweet potatoes.

The food was outstanding – possibly the best series of dishes I’ve eaten this year.

We started with pickled cabbage, to put the Serb at ease. The chicken meatballs were light, fragrant and delicate, the teriyaki sweet, fatty and moreish. Hard to believe they came from the same animal; such was the difference.

The wagyu beef was a winner. The Serb claimed she sensed its greatness by its aura alone. It was succulent, decadent umami on a stick.

The vegetables were next – the shiitake’s simplicity, the sweet potato’s sweet heat, and the eggplant’s complexity – they should be poster children for vegetarianism.

As we left, the team’s enthusiastic ‘Arigatou gozaimashita’ was infectious. I found myself thanking every table on my way out.

Well done for creating another great restaurant so far from where I live. Less

There are dinners and there are dinners.

@reifo.kee has re-created his chef’s table ‘opus amoris’ with Tero, a Kaiseki experience tucked away in a private room in @reifkushiyaki Dubai Hills.

On arrival, you are whisked through the kitchen, into an intimate waiting lounge, shelves filled with object’s d’Art and books that scream of Reif’s personality.

There are two sides to Chef Reif. He possesses a savvy commercial acumen, consulting for and launching scalable, profit-driven restaurants.

Yet, he also explores his passion for culinary arts, where his love for creative expression shines.

Kaiseki, considered the ultimate expression of culinary artistry, reflects the season and is full of symbolism and intent - a deeply personal extension of the chef.

Yet no menu is offered – you are completely in the hands of the chef and his team.

I was worried for the Serb – this was a long way from the safety of burgers.

Twelve seats surround a kitchen stage, marked simply by chopsticks and a side plate.

The ever-changing @terobyreif is available only when Reif is present.

12 dishes, paced across 90 minutes. The meal flows, finds a rhythm, yet every 7 minutes, a new dish arrives, a new beginning, full of possibility and new perspectives.

By the scallop course, The Serb was getting full, asking how many dishes were left. I hadn’t been counting dishes - all I knew was it was 4 minutes till the next one.

Reif served almost every dish himself, taking time to tell stories and engage with his guests.

He told us of his bespoke plateware collaboration with Japanese ceramic artist, @adachi_mari

He surprised us with fermented rice wine bought back from Copenhagen.

He regaled us with stories of his @crhopefoundation in Zanzibar.

He knew how many individual recipes were needed for all twelve dishes.

Deserts arrived, and the Serb luckily found her appetite again, and delicately devoured the Dulcey chocolate chilli.

We stepped out onto the street, with a box of handmade chocolates and a wax sealed menu, signed by the team.

It honestly felt like we had been away on holiday.

There are dinners, and then there are dinners. Less