Maracas New York

Dubai does this thing where it demands so much of restaurants and their menus.

A new chef arrives in the city, and before you know it, they’re plating foams, grating truffles and curating caviar.

Last night, I went to @chefpaolarodriguez Venezuelan supper club, @maracasncaracas .

She’s recently moved to Dubai - and that might be her secret weapon. She seems to be cooking with heart, not hashtags and the menu she served doesn’t scream for attention. It nourishes you - emotionally, culturally, socially.

We ate quesillo de sarrapia from an old biscuit tin. (it’s a thing apparently, from wartime kitchens) We passed around platters of shredded meat for the Pabellón. We had healthy “discussions” on who actually invented arepas. And we all went quiet for the tres leches.

There was no gold leaf, smoke machines or rehearsed monologues. (There were unrehearsed guitars and maracas, though.)

And that’s perhaps what Dubai needs more of. That warm, mid-market middle. Not high-end theatrics. Not super cheap eats. (both of which are great) But just honest, handmade, story-filled food that remembers where it came from.

And maybe we’re seeing a new kind of “going out”, one that, in a way, feels a lot like staying in. These kind of supper clubs are filling a gap that no-one really talks about here - comfort food that lives in the warm, mid-week middle.

In a city driven with unfettered ambition, Paola’s supper club felt like a welcome rewind.

A reminder that before there were restaurants, there were cooks. And before there were customers, there were guests.

I hope the city doesn’t change her.
Maybe we change because of her. Less