PUBLISHED IN DOSSIER WEEKLY
Bright Lights, Big City
ON MY LAST night in Dubai, one of the women hosting my visit asked me and the table of people I was seated with, “What’s one word you would have used to describe Dubai before you came and one word you would use to describe it now?"
We were eating at La Dame De Pic Dubai, chef Anne-Sophie Pic’s newest restaurant. Pic is a third-generation French gastronomy star, who has the distinction of holding more Michelin stars than any other female chef in the world. The night before, at the unveiling ceremony for the city’s third-annual Michelin Guide, her restaurant here, too, had been awarded a star, bringing her worldwide total to 11.
La Dame De Pic is located in The Link, a glass box suspended above the city, with a view of the royal palace and the sheik’s horse stables on one side. On the other, the city’s significant skyline is punctuated by the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building. One Za'abeel, a two-tower complex, holds The Link in place on either side.
The complex also houses two hotels, One&Only One Za’abeel (where I stayed) and Siro One Za’abeel (whose insane fitness facilities I had the pleasure of using); the Longevity Hub Dubai by Clinique La Prairie; private residences; a ballroom; a shopping mall; and 11 restaurants, including the Michelin-starred Sagetsu by Japanese-born Australian chef Tetsuya Wakuda, who also has two stars at Waku Ghin, his restaurant in Singapore; and the newly opened Qabu by Paco Morales, who has three stars for his restaurant Noor in his native Córdoba, Spain. All of which is to say: It has some serious food, including chef Pic’s delicate green beans glazed with honey, pike roe, caviar, and pickled lavender, which looked like a piece of modernist art and which I was enjoying when the first- and last-impression question was posed.
Arriving on the first evening of July, with the sun beginning to set on a 102°F day, I was immediately struck by the relaxed dress code. Though my Middle East travels have been limited, I have visited a number of Muslim countries, so I had packed modestly: flowy dresses, long sleeves (pretty much what I wear anyway). Before leaving the airport, I could see that any thought I’d given to my wardrobe had been entirely unnecessary. Women were wearing everything from jeans and halter tops to black abayas with bejeweled sneakers to thigh-skimming Chanel dresses. Families of Anglophone tourists, I’m sorry to say, were dressed in quotidian stretch pants and ill-fitting t-shirts. Men wore traditional floor-length robes and the keffiyeh of their respective countries, or hand-tailored suits, or tight Under Armor tops, or anything in between.
The drive to my hotel through the lit-up city made me immediately think of Tokyo. Everything was so new — all but one restaurant I visited in my five-day stay was in either a shopping mall or a sparkling high-rise. But Tokyo (one of my favorite cities in the world) is far from a direct comparison. Dubai is a blingy beach town, filled with supercars, palm trees, and air-conditioning. It often felt like Tokyo and Miami had a baby.
But that doesn’t entirely capture it, either.
Business beats at the heart of Dubai, without a doubt. I was surprised to learn oil only makes up around 5% of its GDP. The city is really a trade hub filled with endless opportunities for people who want to work hard, someone told me. Accordingly, it attracts talent from around the world — over 200 nationalities across a range of industries call it home. The city is breathtakingly diverse, something that, as a New Yorker, I really respond to. There is nothing I love more than the cultural complexity of a true port town. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard so many languages being spoken at the same time outside of an airport.
I was there for a trip organized around the aforementioned Michelin Guide, which gave me a certain perspective on this international intersection; this year’s guide features 106 restaurants serving 35 types of cuisine. The city has attracted some of the world’s top chefs: José Avillez, Mauro Colagreco, José Andrés, Heston Blumenthal, and Jason Atherton (whose Row on 45 was awarded two stars this year) all have outposts. But I heard it noted several times with excitement that Dubai has also become an incubator for local and regional talent, which was reflected in Michelin’s selections.
Berenjak, for example, received a Bib Gourmand, awarded for excellent quality and value. At the Persian restaurant, brand chef Mohamed Ponzo (who is half Somali, half Italian, born in Kenya, raised in London, and living in Dubai) is cooking the Iranian comfort food of founder Kian Sayami’s childhood. Hoe Lee Kow, a Korean barbecue concept, and both locations of the Japanese Kushiyaki restaurant Reif — all run by the Singaporean-born, Dubai-based Reif Othman — received the same accolade. And Orfali Bros, awarded one star this year, is helmed by three brothers from Aleppo, Syria.
Which connects to another thing I heard several times during my trip: Dubai is the center of the world. It is a reasonable geographic statement — the Middle East does, in fact, sit physically between Europe and Africa and Asia, with incredible connectivity. But it was also a statement of how those living in the city clearly feel. Having grown up with a map centered on the West, I love being reminded of how the axis isn’t actually fixed. Rather, it’s a feature of perspective — on a globe, any point can be the center.
Perspective is everything, of course. In the West, if we hear news from Middle Eastern countries, it is often about conflict. In Dubai, I was reminded of what a one-dimensional view that is of a multi-faceted, complicated, and dynamic region, with deep histories and traditions. That’s probably why in a week of fancy meals, one of my favorites was not fancy at all: It was a traditional Emirati breakfast, served at a local restaurant in the Old Town, called the Arabian Tea House.
The restaurant’s tables were covered in big silver platters topped with piles of hummus, marinated fava beans, date syrup, tahini, balaleet (thin vermicelli noodles cooked with cardamom, cinnamon, and saffron and topped with an omelet), eggs scrambled with tomatoes, and endless baskets of traditional flatbreads, including chebab, tanoor, and my favorite, khameer, which was coated in sesame seeds. Coffee infused with saffron and vanilla was poured and refilled. Everyone reached into the center of the table with their hands, filling their plates with the rich, flavorful food, just as people have for ages.
“You’ve only scratched the surface of the city,” I was told again and again by its effusive residents. “Once you’ve been here, you’ll come back.”
They were so sure, I found myself believing them.
Choosing a single word to define anything, let alone a wildly international city, isn’t always a challenge I enjoy. How can anything be distilled that much? But I’ll cheat a little and tell you a few of the before words that circulated around the table: business, bling, and Las Vegas. All are about right in terms of my own expectations for Dubai, and none are inaccurate. But what I love most about travel is that one’s impressions any place becomes much more layers after actually visiting.
Like many Americans, I haven’t spent much time in the Middle East. This was only my second trip; the first was to Saudi Arabia a few years ago. When I mentioned this to a Dubai local, he replied, “You are experiencing the absolute extremes of the region.” And that was indeed what I felt.
