Hammour, Mon Amour: Fish (en)Counters in Abu Dhabi

Hammour fish at Lulu's fish counter
Abu Dhabi, UAE

From the first time I walked into a grocery store in Abu Dhabi, I've wanted to write this post (this is my Abu-Dhabi-Fishmonger-post, in case you were wondering).  Having a long-standing love for and appreciation of seafood, fish and fishmongery (please see here and here and  here), I make it a point to seek out and investigate the best and most interesting places and practices everywhere I have lived with regards to the aforementioned selling and eating of fishy things.

In New York I shamelessly frequented Agata & Valentina, an overpriced gourmet grocery on the Upper East Side, mostly with an Italian-leaning and a wonderful Asian fishmonger named Kenny, who could cut fish to the gram.  Apart from that, I never had time to find a better fishmonger and mostly ate seafood in restaurants, because I mostly ate in restaurants.  Ah, single, disposable-income-heavy life in the city.  Good.  Old.  Days.

In London, Waitrose did a decent job of offering up the usual suspects: salmon steaks and the odd seabream or Dover sole.  The nearest good fishmonger to me (besides the Friday fishmarket at the church by Putney bridge which I never made it to!) was in Clapham Junction on Northcote Rd at a tiny little street stand.  And whenever I did manage to make it over there of a Friday, I loved to get cockles, prawns, and all sorts of good whole fish for decent prices by London standards.  Of course I could have spent buckets of money buying my fish at any number of gourmet shops in Chelsea, but to be honest, on the whole I was never very impressed with the fish selection in the UK.  As Rick Stein points out, it seems all the good British seafood gets sent straight to France, where people have a palate for more than "fish n chips."

In Abu Dhabi, I never made it to the (semi) legendary Mina fishmarket at the port, because the first time I tried to go there it was on a blisteringly hot summer day, I had Roman (who was grumpy) with me, and the smell of the place almost knocked me over (and I was in the car, with the a/c on).  Instead, I went straight to the two largest supermarkets, where I'd be doing the bulk of my grocery shopping: Lulu and Carrefour.  And what I saw at Lulu that first week in the Middle East, completely shocked and inspired me.

 * * *

Top 6 Reasons I Loved Lulu's Fish Counter

Abu Dhabi location, Al Wahda Mall

Shopping for fish at Lulu, Al Wahda Mall

6. Proximity.

Something I truly hate about shopping at most supermarkets versus shopping at regular fish markets is the way that the consumer is systematically distanced from the product, through processing, through packaging, through physical encasing.  In most supermarkets there are glass cases separating shoppers from the fish, not allowing them to closely examine, smell and touch the fish the way they would at a real fishmonger, at a real fish market.  

In the UAE, the fish are prominently displayed in an open display case, and there are boxes of rubber gloves (and trash cans for the used gloves) lining the display, encouraging shoppers to slip some gloves on and have a feel, a sniff, a real, good look.  And after they've inspected (or not) to their hearts' content, they can buy or move on.

5. Convenience.

The fishmongers at Lulu can perform any type of cleaning on your fish and seafood that you want.  In the UK I'd get dirty looks from the fish counter workers when I asked for my whole fish to be filleted or cleaned or cut into steaks.  God forbid!  And half the time, they actually either didn't know how to do what I was asking or they did it badly.  It got to the point where I used to scale my fish a second time around after getting home.

In Abu Dhabi, the workers are efficient, professional and usually pretty fast.  They will do anything from filleting to normal cleaning to deveining with the shell on or without.  And there's never annoyance or attitude.  In fact, they take your fish, print two stickers, and give you one to come back with when the fish is clean, after you've finished your other shopping.  Highly convenient.

4. Freshness.

I rarely saw old fish at the Lulu fish counter.  That's more than I can say about meat counters at places like Carrefour, but the fish counter was always moving at a high rate of turnover at Lulu.  The fish always had clear, glossy eyes.  They smelled of the sea.  And they were being bought up more quickly than I'd ever have imagined.

Abu Dhabi used to be a sleepy fishing village, full of pearl divers and bedouins, so the locals do have a taste for seafood naturally.  But add to the mix a huge Asian diaspora - born and bred fish-eaters, especially the Filipinos, but also the Indians, and you've got the perfect fish counter storm.  I practically had to elbow my way to the front of the counter sometimes.  And whether it was soft-shell crabs, small or jumbo prawns, or barracudas, the fish were flying off the ice.

3. Variety.

Yes, you read right: barracudas.  And shark-fish.  And parrot fish.  And red snapper and seabream and angel fish.  And a million other fish I'd never seen or heard of, much less at a fish counter, before.  And NONE of them were in fillet form.  All whole, all beautifully whole and fresh off the boat.  

barracudas at Lulu

They had every size of shrimp and prawn (head-on only), cuttlefish, calamari, octopus, and it was the boring old salmon and tuna steaks that were relegated to the prepackaged display cases, in their safe, sanitary Styrofoam and plastic wrap, waiting to be plucked up by some unsuspecting white woman with her hand sanitizer at the ready, ready to be cooked to death and then roasted just a little longer just in case.  Kind of funny, actually.

2. The DIY Element

shoppers choosing fish

So the rubber glove phenomenon I mentioned above was not only meant for inspectional purposes. In the UAE you were encouraged to not only inspect your own fish and seafood, but also to select and bag it.  I really and truly delighted in being able to inspect and wiggle and choose every single shrimp in my order.  I once spent the better part of ten minutes chatting with an old Lebanese man about the seabream, as he systematically picked every single one on the display up and wiggled it (there were about 30 or 40).  He gave me a lesson on finding fresh fish (he maintains its red gills and not clear eyes that show freshness - oh and the smell of the ocean).  And when he was done choosing, after demanding they bring more fish out from the back, the display was almost instantaneously fixed and re-iced.  Love it.  Why can't we have this option in the US?

1. Hammour, Mon Amour!
In the UAE only one fish is king.  A beautiful large grouper known as Hammour fish.  You see it on every menu, at every hotel buffet, and it is prominently displayed at every good fish counter.  It is usually sold at a pretty large size and is an impressive culinary centerpiece when cooked and served whole on a large platter.  

I had Hammour for the first time at the Al Raha Beach Hotel Friday Buffet in the first month we were in Abu Dhabi, and it stayed with me because of its thick, delicious texture, not too fishy and not too bland.  Last month, I also had the pleasure of having a delicious whole, small hammour at the chic but decidedly overpriced seafood restaurant in Muscat's Chedi Hotel as one of my last meals in the Middle East.  It was roasted whole and served with a preserved lemon sauce and a side of sauteed baby courgettes.  It was a fitting way to pay homage to a fish that was a constant presence during my time in the Middle East and which will continue to be a food I love for years to come.

Goodbye Abu Dhabi! Goodbye Middle!

Rockin' in Ras Al Khaimah

It's such a tiny island, in such an inhospitable place.  Its whereabouts mean nothing to almost everyone I ever knew and yet its footprint on the world - and me - is there.  It's a place of contradiction, ostentation, beauty, warmth, and more contradiction, most of all fundamentally rooted in the fact that nobody but a few desert nomads dared ever live here until oil money brought air-conditioning.  Its people are mysterious, to  give you the short of it, and bring me to complete awe - because in two generations they have gone from abject poverty, from pearl divers and hammour fishermen and desert wanderers who treated camels better than humans, to nothing short of full-blown desert oligarchs who love aviator sunglasses, Burberry, and, of course, dates.  Who knew I'd have the chance to live here?  Who knew that when I didn't even know where the UAE was, much less WHAT it was only a year ago, I'd be thrust into the very heart of it, into a strange surreal life of expat aloofness, of semi-Arab culture, of desert allure.

And yet, here we are again, in those bittersweet last weeks of inhabitance - actually, on the last night of them - in a place that was never quite home, but isn't really not home anymore either.  The goodbyes are endless and inevitably repeat themselves time and time again, in a vain hope that if you pretend not to finally really say goodbye you'll see some of these people - your friends, and somehow also your family - again.

No matter how excited you might have initially been about the new opportunity elsewhere, the newness of moving again, the adventure and the thrill of the unknown, you inevitably become nostalgic for things you never knew appealed to you about the place in which you reside, and reflective on the many cultural and quotidian impressions that will remain with you for years, even a lifetime, to come.

There are goodbye drinks (mostly mocktails), goodbye dinners (mostly involving sheesha), last playdates (at Al Wahda Mall, of course), last weekend trips (to Oman, incidentally), and even last trips to the favorite supermarket (Lulu) or corner of the city (the Corniche).  You discover new things you wish you'd known about before (Masdar City and Sumo Sushi), and start to inadvertently send a text to a close friend (that's you Rachael) suggesting you go there next week, when you realize you won't be here anymore next week.  And it's little things like this that make moving, no matter how much you complain about or even kind of dislike a place, difficult, and (dare I say it?) sad.

Abu Dhabi has been such a strange experience - disarming and enraging and amazing in equal parts.  When we arrived here, still suffering from bad customer service and inefficiency whiplash from our experience in London, we were so wide-eyed and bushy-tailed and eager to learn and enjoy and love the Emirates, that we largely ignored the bad things for a very long time, which actually worked in our favor.  Roman had just learned to walk two weeks before our plane landed in Abu Dhabi; he was saying only a handful of words and was mostly only tacitly (and, let's face it, vaguely) aware of anything going on around him.

Now that we're leaving, only 9 months later, Roman is running and jumping, speaking in sentences, and thanking contractors and grocery store cashiers for me when we leave a place or receive a service.  He doesn't actually own a jacket anymore, and he only has two or three pairs of pants (most of which no longer fit).  He hasn't worn close-toed shoes in months and I don't remember the last time I put a pair of socks on him (wait, yes, I do, Christmas in Connecticut).   Personally, I've made the permanent switch-over to wearing nothing but flip-flops, pretty much every single day, no matter what, and I even got Matt to agree to me buying him a pair of frat-boy-esque leather flip-flops from American Eagle, which he now dons proudly, while grilling or at the beach. 

There's so much that's comfortable about our lives here, so much that I will miss dearly in many ways.  And the only and really best way to tell you about it is through one of my lists.  Here it is.

* * *

Top 5 Things I'll Miss About Living in the Middle
East, that is
Abu Dhabi, to be exact

Iftar at Emirates Palace

5. The Flash (just a little :)).

Me and the flashy side of Abu Dhabi have a love-hate relationship.  A rather large part of me unequivocally feels it's over the top, selfish, ostentatious, fake, and even wrong in many ways to completely embrace and unquestioningly accept the luxuries that living in Abu Dhabi offers up to most Westerners.  The labor situation and the painful and appalling issues of class in this country are reproachful and ultimately one of the big reasons Matt and I couldn't stand living here much longer.  But, that said, sometimes I truly do love indulging in the pleasures of a five-star hotel, the immaculately clean and manicured lawns and gardens and pools, valet parking literally everywhere you go, and no need to pump your own gas, ever. :)  

It feels nice and exciting to be treated like you're special, and to live in a city where everything is pretty and clean and new.  On the other hand, it does start to get tiring and boring to never be expected to clean after yourself in a mall food-court (or any other public place).  And it seems very unnatural that everyone's children here are raised by foreign live-in maids.  Plus, I can't say I ever think it's necessary or justified for someone's entire job to be to stand in a public bathroom and clean the stall and toilet directly after every single person who uses it (they are sometimes even waiting outside the door, sadly).

But I loved the Atlantis Hotel on the Palm Jumeirah in Dubai, I loved the glitzy Souk Qaryat Al Beri near the Shangri-La, Abu Dhabi (and the spa at the Shangri-La is awesome too).  I completely reveled in the uber understated-luxury of the Fairmont Bab Al Bahr, especially the Lebanese Restaurant and it's amazing outdoor sheesha-bar. I felt like a rock-star when I had a drink at the SkyLite Bar at the Yas Hotel the other night.  I love Marina Mall, and despite not liking the decor, did feel a thrill in going to dinner at the Emirates Palace.  We all like to be pampered sometimes. :)

4. My House

I loved my Abu Dhabi house.  It is the first house Matt and I have ever had, and it was such a pretty house, not to mention a welcome breath of fresh air after cramped NYC apartments and mildewy London flats.

Yes, it was located in an entirely artificial compound off-island from Abu Dhabi, but it was so tastefully done!  All the houses are desert colors, and our particular one had a small but infinitely charming courtyard right in the middle of it, lending light to every room, and instilling a little bit of freshness with its trickling water feature and our lemon tree.  I also loved the big airy rooms with giant windows, most of which opened entirely, floor-to-ceiling, to the open air.  I loved my white linen curtains, that flowed in the breeze.  And I loved my tiny but extremely practical kitchen, in which I cooked comparatively few exciting meals but still, it was a place where I discovered Syrian cooking, Lebanese spices, and baked with Ghee for the first time.  I loved my front patio with my giant Frangipani tree, the white flowers blooming and wafting the smell of colonial decadence into my tiny, private oasis.  I loved the sprinklers going off every morning, and watering my potted plants with Roman every night in the summer.  What a beautiful place we've been lucky enough to live in.

3. Desert-y, Abu Dhabian-y Things.

I love sandstorms.  I love seeing the colorful sand swirling on the road in patterns when the wind blows.  I love the dunes, the endless dunes of the the Empty Quarter.  I love the camels that wander 

along highways just miles outside of Abu Dhabi or Dubai, and the small ramshackle camps made for them with palm-leaf tents and a few date palms for shade.  I love dates too.  Especially the ones with almonds stuck in the middle.  I loved seeing families breaking the fast at Ramadan, in the moonlight, under the shade of date palms, at the park or even on the grassy side-croppings of roads.  I love the Grand Mosque in its pristine whiteness and the aquamrine-azure of the shallow Persian gulf waters.  I love seeing white-clad men and black-clad women glide, seemingly unshaken, in unbearable heat.  I love Maqta bridge and its rickety glory, and the wading waters below where the Bedu used to cross by foot with their camels to Abu Dhabi island.  I love the way every time I smell frankincense, or drink coffee with cardamom, or hear the Adhan - the call to prayer - , I'm taken back to some intangible but very Abu Dhabian, desert-y place and time, a time now of the past.

2. Our Father Zayed.
There is a giant billboard poster just at the end of the Corniche in Abu Dhabi, right before Emirates Palace Hotel, with a picture of Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan, founding leader of the UAE as a modern entity.  It is placed at a busy intersection, just after an idyllic beach and just before the UAE's flagship uberluxury hotel, juxtaposing sand and city, past and present, today and tomorrow.

It is gigantic.  And glaringly white.  And the black and white picture is beyond the normal.  It is epic.  With a colored-UAE Flag flapping in the background and a pristine white khandoura, and igal.  He looks like a strange mix between Jesus Christ, Jafar from Alladin, and...well, Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan. And below the larger than life leader it reads, in giant black letters:

Join us in honoring him

OUR FATHER ZAYED

I'm gonna miss that. :)

** Note: For a selection of amazing pictures of the Sheikh, go to www.ourfatherzayed.ae **

1. The Middle Eastern Warmth.
On the obvious end of this one, yes, I'll miss the painfully wonderful weather the UAE gets from about November to April.  It's just so pleasant to walk out to your car, out of a non-airconditioned house, into a car that you could theoretically avoid the A/C in as well (if it weren't for the permanent presence of powder-like sand in the air).  It's wonderful to go to the beach in the middle of January with your two-year-old and not worry that he'll be cold.  It's wonderful to walk to the playground every night with Roman to swing and slide and not worry about huffing and puffing about snow boots or layers before going out.  Will I miss the summer? Nope.  Will I miss the no-eating-no-drinking in public of Ramadan?  Well, technically yes, because I will no longer be here by then.  Ha. :D 

On the less obvious end, I'll miss the warm welcomes of friends who were as eager to meet and know me as I was them.  It's hard to find people as in need for friends and support as a group of newly arrived expats in the Middle East, and I'm glad I had to the chance to both be a part of and contribute to the small, tightly-knit circle of culturally-diverse vagabonds residing in the capital of a tiny oil-rich country located on the Persian Gulf, in any small way.

  

* * *

Some dear memories and impressions from our time in Abu Dhabi

watering plants

Atlantis Hotel, Dubai

Aquaventure, Dubai

Iftar feast, Emirates Palace, Abu Dhabi

The Empty Quarter

Riding Camels, Qasr Al Sarab

Frangipanis

Casting a spell at the liquor license office.

Eating ice cream with his best friends.

Buying a carpet at the Blue Souq, Sharjah

His Liwa.

The Mosque from the Fairmont

El Sombrero Mexican Restaurant  & Obama

Meet & Greet the Camels, Ras Al Khaimah

A Date Palm, Abu Dhabi

Cornice Beach

The Grand Mosque, Abu Dhabi

Amicable Alimentations: Syrian Lamb Fetteh

Lamb Fetteh: a Damascene Appetizer

Amicable Alimentations: A series of posts with no predictable order or timing dedicated to a delicious food and the friend who most reminds me of it or inspired me to love it.  Here's the link to post number one from a couple of months ago, and this, of course, is post number two in the series.

* * *

We're moving.  AGAIN!  And while some, less adventurous souls might squeal in pain, I'm so happy I could pop.  We're going back to the US!  And of all the random places I've never been and we could have conceivably ended up in, I never thought that in two weeks we'd be living in Portland, Maine.  But there you have it - that's how random and serendipitous life can be. :)  And actually, all this came just as I was getting used to life in the Middle East, just when I'd made good friends, and was starting to finally relax with little of the "settling in" process to deal with anymore.  Oh what'reyagonnado?

* My Discovery of Syrian Food *

About a month ago, a friend of mine invited us to her house.  I usually get very excited about going to peoples' houses for dinner because to me it's a unique look into their lives, and the way they eat is also indicative of lots of things - how they interact, how focused on health or culture they are.  A million things.

Anyway, I was particularly excited about this dinner because my friend Marilla and her husband Abd are Syrian, and Damascene on top of that.  Their son Aidan (Adnaan actually) is a little younger than Roman and a real cutie.  They are all super nice people and have given me a unique and authentic look into Middle Eastern culture since moving here, one that is almost impossible to glean from local Emiratis who seem to very much keep to themselves.  But I digress.

Damascus is one of the cities I most wanted to visit while in the Middle East (and sadly now I won't be able to this time around), as it is not only rumored to be fantastically old and rich in its historical and charming characteristics, but the food is supposed to be superb.  It's a mix of Mediterranean and Arab cooking that involves lots of fresh dips and grilled meats and yummy salads.  In short, I absolutely couldn't wait to see what Marilla would dish up for our night at her place.

She didn't disappoint.  She made an appetizer called "Fetteh" (loose anglicized transliteration there), we had kibbeh, Fattoush, Warak Enab (warm, stuffed grape leaves, in this case cooked with tomatoes and potatoes), Riz w Shayreeyah (rice with short vermicelli noodles) and stuffed eggplant in tomato sauce.  For dessert she bought kunafa, one of my favorite Arab sweets made with string phyllo dough and cheese.  She also gave us a box of Damascene cookies to take home.  Yum.

The Delicious Syrian Spread

Everything was superbly delicious and filling, and yet I kept going back for more of one dish - the Fetteh.  When I asked Marilla to explain what "fetteh" is, she couldn't, really.  She could tell me the ingredients and the way to make it (which I duly wrote down), but I guess to her it was simply such a familiar thing that it seemed odd to try to explain it to a foreigner.

Marilla's Syrian Fetteh

I did a little research on the internet (check out Dessert Candy, a blog which I love) and found that Fetteh is a very common, very informal Middle Eastern appetizer which has as many variations as there are cooks in the Middle East. At its simplest, Fetteh is a warm stew of yogurt and chickpeas with pita bread.  The version my friend Marilla made for us is actually a more complex Damascene one involving eggplant, tomatoes and lamb.  I can't begin to tell you how delicious this dish is.  Luckily, I will now divulge the much hoarded recipe so you too can try a little bit of the Middle East at home.

And I will say it now, by God, one day I will visit Damascus!  Thanks Marilla for a wonderful dinner and the inspiration for this installment of Amicable Alimentations (which I have shamelessly otherwise neglected).  Bil-hanā' wa ash-shifā!  

* * *

My Version of Marilla's Syrian Fetteh

Serves 6

My version of Marilla's Fetteh

I already have some improvements to make on my version of this, having just made it once.  For one thing, I didn't use nearly as much yogurt as I should.  And I didn't have Tahini so I used Sesame oil (which actually worked pretty well but wasn't the same), so I need to go back to the original next time. 

This comes out as more of a heavy appetizer / light dinner.  But we ate it as a main course and felt more than fulfilled by it.  The key is to have lots and lots of the yogurt mixture which infuses a typically Middle Eastern flavor into this dish, with the mixture of tahini, garlic, yogurt and lemon juice.  Yummy.

Ingredients

1lb (500g) minced lamb

1 container (200-250g) Greek yoghurt
1 medium onion, chopped

2 medium tomatoes, skinned & sliced into moon shapes
(or substitute 1 small can of whole tomatoes in their sauce)

1 tbsp tomato paste

1 pack pita or Arabic bread (about 3-4 small pitas), chopped into small squares

1 medium eggplant, sliced into thin-ish rounds

1 tbsp Tahini (sesame seed paste)

1-2 Lemons, juiced (to taste)

4-5 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 cup whole pinenuts

plenty of good olive oil

Method

1. In a pan with plenty of olive oil, fry the pita bread squares until brown and crisp.  Set aside on a plate with paper towels to drain excess oil.

2. In the same pan, adding olive oil as needed, fry the eggplant rounds in batches until VERY golden on both sides.  Set aside on a plate.

3. In the same pan again, brown the lamb and season with salt and pepper; with a spoon remove some of the excess fat then set aside the lamb and keep warm in a bowl.

4. Lastly, sautee the onions and tomatoes and tomato paste in the same pan, seasoning with salt and pepper as needed.  Allow the onions and tomatoes to cook together for 10 minutes or so, adding a little water if needed to make a sauce.

5. Finally, in a small pan with a tiny bit of olive oil, lightly brown the pine nuts and set aside.

6. In a bowl, mix the yogurt, garlic, lemon juice, tahini and some salt.  Taste and adjust quantities as needed.

7.  In a casserole dish, mix the fried bread and tomato sauce as the bottom layer.  Then on top of that lay the eggplant, then the yogurt, then the lamb, then the pine nuts on top.  Serve using a large spoon and make sure the dish is warm!

Frankie's Revisited: Abu Dhabi-Style

Eroticus Ramazzotti, in a choice moment of musical passion.
And yes, that is a keyboard resting on the piano.

Remember when Matt took me to Frankie's for Mother's Day in London this past May and I became a devotee of Proscuitto and Avocado platters?  That was almost as great as when we went back to Frankie's the other night, here in Abu Dhabi (as if I needed anymore reasons to obsess over Italy!).  Yes, the Marco Pierre White empire does extend into the Middle East!  He has two restaurants here in AD, both in the swankified uber-modern hotel called The Fairmont Bab Al Bahr.

As hotels go, The Fairmont is somewhat extraordinary, even in the overbuilt, over-hyped world of luxury hotels that is the Middle East.  So far in Abu Dhabi I have not seen anything like it; nothing even close, to be completely honest, and I've done my fair amount of due diligence when it comes to luxury hotels because in the Middle East that's where all the best (read: alcohol-serving) restaurants are.

What makes the Fairmont unique?  Its innovative design.  Its tasteful, somewhat minimalist decor.  Its great view.  Its mini-Corniche.  And its fab restaurants.  Well, I know at least one of them is good: Frankie's Italian Restaurant & Bar.

In a shameless throw back to my original Frankie's post, here is the top 5 reasons to visit Frankie's at the Fairmont Bab Al Bahr, in list form.

* * *

Top 5 Reasons to Go to Frankie's Abu Dhabi
despite there being no pork on the menu

(sacrilege, I know)

5. The Unabashed Swank.

the dining room

The decor at Frankie's in Abu Dhabi is significantly posher than that of the Putney locale, and the setting, it almost goes without saying, on a completely different level of swank.  You won't find white and red checkered table cloths or disco-balls here.  You get velvety upholstered lounge-chairs and fine, white linens.  You've barely taken a bite of your gourmet breadstick before the porcelain bread-basket and tray of tri-colore dips (tomato, pesto and olive tapenade) is replaced with a new one.  There are semi-private booths and round table rooms lining the medium-sized dining area, and an open-kitchen to watch mostly-Asian chefs at work.  There is also an outdoor patio area which is enclosed by 3-stone walls which are also full-size navy blue waterfalls, giving the entire room an ethereal but really pleasant feel.

In the end Matt and I both agreed that the more informal setting in London was preferable, especially if you're going to have an adjoining borderline 80's style bar and live jazz / karaoke pianist.  But more on that later.  It is swanky, and if you're looking to feel special in that waiter-at-your-beck-and-call sort of way, it works.

4. Shockingly Enough: Kid Friendly.

We went on a Thursday night (the equivalent to Friday night in the Western world) at 8pm and the place was about half-full.  By 9pm the place was entirely buzzing and every table was being used both in the restaurant and at the bar.  When we left at near 10pm, I counted at least four families with more than one child eating at the restaurant.  

Not all of them were teenagers either - I even ran into a little boy (2 years) who goes to nursery with Roman, dancing to the pianist's version of "I'm Pround to Be an American!"  Long story.  Anyway, I'm still a little weirded out by that, but on the other hand, having the kids around brought levity (one boy and his nanny came in carrying a bunch of 15 helium balloons to his table for him to play with) and it was nice to know that if we were ever in a babysitting pinch, Roman would be more than welcome (and eat for free!).

3. Eroticus Ramazzoti.

I had suggested to a friend of mine that we go to Frankie's a couple of times in the past and she always declined, commenting that the "karaoke" was so loud they could barely talk to each other at the table.  Imagine my surprise when we arrive to the sound of a live jazz pianist, gently but confidently crooning Frank Sinatra classics to the sophisticated clinking of silver ware and sautee pans.  I suppose that's not everyone's cup of tea, but I have to admit I was a little shocked at how contrasting the description I had been given was to the apparent truth.

Fast forward to an hour and a half later - I'm on my second glass of wine (which these days is the equivalent of everyone else's fourth), and I'm tapping my foot and singing along to a gusty rendition of "Volare" by the Gypsy Kings along with what revealed itself to be the most bizarre bar performer and set I have witnessed in a long time, and no he wasn't a midget.  Not technically.  But he was highly Leprechaun-esque.

We never found out his name - and maybe that's a good thing -  but our jazz pianist gave such a convincing performance of "Se Bastasse una Bella Canzone" (please go watch that video) that we decided to call him Eroticus Ramazzoti (because Eros just wouldn't be enough).  Besides playing the aforementioned patriotic American songs, he also did an unforgettable rendition of Happy Birthday that involved prolonged and somewhat disturbing animalistic guttural noises at certain traditional pause-moments in the tune.  I also joined in on those, against my better judgment and to Matt's horror.  His voice was karaoke quality, in all truth.  He was a good imitator but no Pavarotti, and I suddenly understood my friend's aversion to the whole thing, and yet, I couldn't help but revel in this one-man-show and the absurdity of it being allowed in a pricey, swanky restaurant like Frankie's.

Then again, it is an Italian restaurant.  And where else do you get that inseparable combination of swank and cheesiness like you do in Italy?  When we asked the manager where he was from, the answer came swiftly and pointedly, almost like an accusation: "He's Roman."  Of course he is.

2. Because You're a High-Roller.

Or at least feeling like one.

One thing I loved about Frankie's in London was the Pris Fixe lunch.  There was nothing overpriced or pretentious about that restaurant, and that sat well with me in a city of overpriced, pretentious eating establishments. 

Here, on the other hand, where good restaurants are shockingly affordable and the quality of food relatively high, Matt was shuddering as he handed his credit card over with the bill.  Granted, wine is a lot more expensive in these parts (ah to be in Italy!), and I always end up ordering seafood which is naturally costly, but we both agreed there was a built-in glam factor to the prices. 

People in the UAE love to splash out money.  Here, it's just as much about how much you spend as what you get for the money, if not more.  So for those of us who are more practically-minded and less economically-frivolous, that can suck.  But I have to say, despite the high-dosh-to-food  ratio, I'd go back in a New York minute, dragging Matt behind me.

1. The Tagliolini with Langoustines.

The first time I ate at Frankie's in London, I had the Spaghettini with Lobster.  This time I decided to order the homemade Tagliolini (think thinner, finer linguini) with Langoustines.  It was cooked in a light white-wine sauce dotted with garlic, onion, parsley and cherry tomatoes and with a nice kick of pepperoncino.  The only thing missing was a splash of lemon juice, but that was quickly remedied by yours truly.  

Not very adventurous am I?  I don't care.  This pasta was orgasmic.  I highly, highly recommend it.  And I'm 99.9% sure I will order it again the next time we go back.  And believe me, we'll be back.

beef carpaccio

NB: There's No Pork on the Menu.

Pork is, for obvious reasons, not allowed at most restaurants in the UAE.  This doesn't bother me on a philosophical level (I'm all for respecting other peoples' religions), but it does bother me on a culinary level, and especially at Italian restaurants.  I can't help but feel that an Italian restaurants' soul is heavily intertwined with the quality of pork products it serves: good prosciutto, good salami, good pancetta.  What kind of pathetic antipasto platter could you have without pork?!  But, happily, Frankie's of Abu Dhabi does an excellent job of making you feel like you're not missing much without the pork.  

Instead of Prosciutto and Avocado platters, they served a truly magnificent beef carpaccio with arugula, fresh parmesan and
Frankie's dressing (which was creamy horseradish).  Again, the only thing missing was a heavy splash of lemon juice, quickly remedied by yours truly. :)

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And now, a pictorial journey through our night at Frankie's and 

(mostly) the Fairmont Bab Al Bahr.

Emirates Palace Hotel: An Iftar to Remember

Lantern and Dates:
Iftar at the Emirates Palace Hotel

So just when I had given up on Iftar buffets at hotels, Matt informed me that we'd be having one at the Emirates Palace Hotel (of Sex and the City 2 fame), and on the company's dime.  Needless to say, I was very pleased.  I, of course, in all my excitement of putting makeup and a dress on for once, forgot my camera, Roman's bottle, and even Roman's stroller.  It was an ominous beginning to the evening that was, thankfully, not indicative at all of how our dinner went.

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Some Aesthetically Pleasing Impressions from Our Feast
courtesy of my cell phone

After driving through the amazing grounds of the hotel to reach the parking garage (which incidentally had an entire floor of nothing but white BMWs, I swear to GOD!), we were ushered through different hallways lined with glass cabinets housing hundreds of antiquities from all over the world - Ancient Rome, Greece, Turkey, and even Mexico.  Matt took the opportunity to remind Roman that one of those things was worth more than his life. :)

Finally, we arrived at a beautiful ballroom that had been dressed to look like an Arabian tent, with velvet-draped cielings, moroccan lamps, colorful table dressings, and intricate Islamic China to eat off of.  

Amusingly, we were both handed "gifts" at the entrance which included a robe called a bisht or Mishlah for Matt and a red velvet "kufi" hat to go with it and a black sequined wrap for me.  

Roman and Matt with the
Giant Dallah (Arabic Coffee Pot) in the Lobby

But back to the food...

Every table boasted plates of dried fruits and nuts, prominent among them dates stuffed with dried fruits and nuts, and water and Iftar drinks (which are generally exotic juices - pineapple, apricot, grape, etc.).  The walls were back-lit images of Arab-esque paysages which lent the entire room a strangely ethereal feel.  

Those are the walls; I kid you not.

At the back of the giant room (which must have had table settings for at least 500 people) was another large room for families which had a movie-size television screen, 2 bouncy castles, a ball pit and several other larger than life toys for kids to indulge in while the parents feasted.

And feast we did.

the tasteful and tasty buffet

My first course was a typical Emirati soup: a lentil soup flavored subtly with cumin and garnished with lemon juice and croutons.  I also finally got more than my share of the irresistible whole roasted lamb and rice dish I'd been seeing at all the buffets; turns out it's a dish originating in Yemen (but considered a national dish in Saudi Arabia) called Majboos or kabsa (file that away for a rainy day!).

Kabsa

I also discovered a new sweet to add to my list of yummies.  Not sure what it's called but I did get a picture. 

Mystery Sweet

 Overall, the quality and experience were far superior to that at the Shangri-La, and while I did not have a personal butler or get to stay in the super crazy suite, I left feeling like a million bucks (or at least weighing that much more).

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