Chefs, tastemakers and residents from across the city come together
There’s a reason the phrase ‘the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach’ refuses to age out. In a city like Dubai, where we are constantly surrounded by a kaleidoscope of cultures, food serves as a connector among people. It’s the way we show our love, offer comfort and gradually anchor ourselves to the people who matter most.
There is an undeniable intimacy in preparing a meal for a loved one. When you stand over a stove monitoring a flame, you are offering someone your time, the most precious commodity we have in this desert metropolis. You are essentially saying that their happiness is worth the effort of the craft.
I’ve seen how food acts as a universal translator in this city. When you cook a childhood dish for someone who has never tasted it, you share a piece of your history that words can’t quite capture. There is a vulnerability in placing a plate in front of someone and hoping they find the same comfort in those flavours that you did growing up. It is a way of letting someone into your private world.
To me, these culinary efforts are the ultimate expressions of care and the shared joy of a home-cooked meal that does the heavy lifting when conversation feels too small for the depth of the feeling.
For Sara, a dentist who moved to Dubai alone, food became emotional shorthand early in her relationships.
“I had mentioned once that when I’m overwhelmed, I crave daal chawal. Nothing fancy, just goold old home cooked daal chawal. A few weeks later, after a horrible day at work, my best friend showed up with food she’d cooked herself. It wasn’t perfect but it was incredibly thoughtful.”
In a lot of relationships, cooking isn’t so much about trying to impress someone. It’s really about being there for each other consistently.
Usama, who works in IT, shares how food has become his way of showing love. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings with words but I’ll get up early to make breakfast or pack a lunch without waiting to be asked. That’s my way of showing I care.”
His wife definitely took notice of his efforts. “She once told me she feels looked after when there’s food waiting for her.”
In fast-paced Dubai routines, these gestures are especially impactful. Cooking a meal says, I thought about you when you weren’t here. For couples from different cultural backgrounds, cooking often serves as a wonderful bridge between their traditions.
Shadab, who grew up between India and Dubai, met her partner through mutual friends. “We come from completely different food cultures. Instead of going out to restaurants, we started cooking for each other at home.”
Why Food Works as a Love Language
Food is practical but also emotional and deeply personal. Unlike gifts or words, food requires patience and presence. You can’t rush it without consequences. You can’t fake attention while cooking something for someone you care about and perhaps that’s why it works, the effort is visible and the time spent is irreversible.
Chef Kelvin Cheung of Jun’s
I knew my now wife went to this yoga class in Bandra in Bombay every week, and I also knew she was gluten-free. So I showed up one day with what I casually called “gluten-free cupcake testing.” It sounded like I just needed feedback. The truth is, I’d made them specifically for her. I figured if you’re a chef, you might as well use your strengths.
She tried them, we got to talking, and instead of asking her out to dinner, I invited her to a tailgate. We’re both North American. I’m Canadian, she’s American and we both love football and sports in general. It felt more natural than a formal first date.
For the game, I made all the tailgate classics, done all gluten-free: nachos, mac and cheese, chili. Nothing fancy, just thoughtful.
That meal did more than impress her. It showed her I was paying attention.
And that was pretty much it.
Chef Glen Ballis of INA
Cooking over open fire is one of the oldest and most honest ways to bring people together. For me, it’s a love language – you give your time, your attention, and your instinct to someone else. When you cook with flame, there’s nowhere to hide; it’s pure, direct, and deeply human. Sharing that kind of food creates a connection that goes beyond the plate – and often stays long after the last bite.
I was trying to impress my wife Marina, so I made Avgolemono, a traditional Greek lemon and chicken soup I learned from my mom. Nothing extravagant, just something warm, nourishing, and deeply reassuring. The aroma alone would fill the house and draw you in. Then once you taste it, you can never go back to not wanting to have it again. Needless to say, it worked and were now married 18 years.
Chef Jitin Joshi of Revolver
Years ago, while running a restaurant in London, a guest planned a Valentine’s surprise with a bouquet of roses – but the delivery never arrived. Anxious, he asked our team for help, so we improvised. I whipped cream with hibiscus gel, piped it into soft pink roses, and placed 18 of them on the dessert to mark their anniversary. That small gesture turned panic into joy. He’s been a loyal guest ever since – and has visited every restaurant I’ve worked at around the world. It reminded me that in food, thoughtfulness matters more than perfection – sometimes love just needs a little creativity on a plate.
Chef Sandeep Sharma of Flying Eelephant
One evening at Flying Elephant, we had a guest who mentioned they were vegan and asked if there were any options for them. Instead of offering the usual substitutions, I decided to create something just for them, a vegan chaat inspired by the flavors of home but made entirely from plant-based ingredients.
When I served it, the look on their face said everything. They were surprised that something so familiar could feel so new, and so thoughtfully prepared. That moment reminded me how food can make someone feel seen and cared for.
The guest loved it so much that this spontaneous creation is now on our menu as ‘The Plant Project’. What began as a gesture for one person has become a dish that shares that feeling of love with everyone who tries it.
Chef Tristin Farmer of Maison Dali
Food has a magical way of bringing people together – for celebrations, festivals, and even love. I remember a Valentine’s night where I baked soft, pillowy Japanese milk bread and paired it with a tin of caviar. I added some fried chicken and a small burger on the side, turning it into a playful, unexpected feast. Watching the smiles, laughter, and little moments of delight around the table reminded me why I cook – because food isn’t just about taste, it’s about creating memories, sparking joy, and connecting hearts.
Tanaz Shahriari of MIVA
Last year, a newly married couple approached us ahead of their first anniversary. Paris has always been their city, a place they return to every year. They told me that their ritual there is beautifully simple. Each morning, they walk to the same neighborhood bakery and share a pain au chocolat before beginning their day. No reservations, no spectacle. Just coffee, chocolate, and the comfort of routine.
This year, travel wasn’t possible. She wanted to surprise her husband with something that felt personal, something that would bring that familiar Parisian morning home to him. Knowing he’s a devoted gelato lover, she commissioned us to create a bespoke flavor inspired by their ritual.
We developed a Croissant au Chocolat gelato, a silky base infused with buttery pastry notes, folded with ribbons of deep chocolate and delicate shards of toasted croissant to recreate that first crisp bite. The goal wasn’t novelty. It was nostalgia.
On their anniversary evening, she gifted him a beautifully packaged tub with a note: “Until we’re back in Paris.” Sometimes romance isn’t about extravagance. It’s about remembering the details.
Chef Songmi Ji of Smoki Moto
After school, I would walk through a busy local market in Korea. There was an elderly woman who sold tteokbokki from a small street cart. I was obsessed with it. Tteockboki (Korean soul food), crispy twigim on the side and perilla leaves wrapped around a simple filling of tofu and glass noodles. It wasn’t fancy. But that combination was everything to me at that age.
But what stayed with me the most was the sauce.
The tteokbokki sauce was spicy, slightly sweet and deeply comforting. I would dip the crispy tempura into that sauce and somehow it brought all the flavours together. That dipping sauce created the connection for me. It wasn’t just about taste. It was about warmth, familiarity and the feeling of belonging.
Years later, after leaving Korea and eventually becoming Head Chef at Smoki Moto, I had the chance to reinterpret that memory. While redefining the menu, I created Crispy Perilla Twigim. When guests taste it, I often see curiosity first. Then surprise. Then recognition. That same emotional connection I felt at nine years old is still alive in that dish. It carries memory, culture and intention.
FoodSheikh
So, back in the day, I was working for IKEA food, as Director of Meatballs – a self-proclaimed title. That’s where I met The Serb for the first time – and I wooed her with a new dish I was launching in the restaurant. It wasn’t a seductive Italian pasta, or an indulgent sophisticated French dish. It wasn’t even the Nordic charm of meatballs with lingonberry sauce. In fact, I couldn’t think of a less seductive dish to get someone in a romantic mood. It was a Dum Biriyani – a fragrant, spiced rice, with chicken thighs buried like little morsels of contraband – heavy on the onions and loaded with spices. You crack open the lid, and it’s less ‘date night’ and more ‘delicious full meal then food coma’. It’s hot, filling and aggressively aromatic. It’s the kind of dish that leaves your fingers smelling of cardamon and cumin for the rest of the day. Apparently, that was enough. We’re celebrating 10 years together in April.
Chef Anthony Reilly of Habtoor Polo Resort
Valentine’s Day is always chaotic in a restaurant kitchen, flames, timers, orders flying. But one year, I decided to sneak out early and cook for someone special. No plating perfection. No MICHELIN-style drama. Just me, a pot of Arborio rice, and a ridiculous amount of parmesan.
I remember it vividly. The risotto was creamy, slightly over-salted, I was nervous, okay, and the kitchen smelled like butter and garlic. I carried the pot to the table, expecting a polite smile. Instead, she laughed at my messy apron, sat down, and we ate straight from the pan. No forks, just spoons and laughter.
By the end of the night, I realised I’d charmed her not with a fancy menu, but with a simple meal made from attention, patience, and a little daring. Food became the way I said everything words couldn’t. I see you. I care. And I want to share this moment with you. That risotto didn’t make it to the restaurant menu, but it’s still on my list of most memorable dishes, and the most romantic.
Chef Marco Deriu of Cucina
I was born and raised in Sardinia, in the city of Alghero, where the sea shapes everyday life. Love there is rarely spoken about directly. It is shown at the table, in the way ingredients are chosen, prepared and shared. The land and the water speak through the food.
One of the most meaningful moments in my life was the first time I brought my wife to my hometown. I wanted her to understand where I come from, not through big words and the cliché explanations, but through taste.
That evening, I cooked fresh fish from Alghero, prepared simply to respect its natural character, along with pasta with fresh prawns and bottarga. It was not about technique or presentation. It was about showing her my roots.
When she tasted the dish, she did not only comment on the flavour. She asked about the memories behind it. We spoke for hours about childhood, family traditions and what food represented in our lives. That dinner became more than a meal. It was the beginning of our family story.
Chef Batuhan Piatti of Lion in the Sun
Back in 2001, I was invited by some friends to their home where they were glued to ‘Big Brother,’ a popular reality show at the time in Istanbul. I found myself in a house full of eight girls, the only guy in the mix. I decided to cook linguine with salmon and Aurora sauce. It turned out to be a huge success, and it was during this occasion that I met my wife, who was one of the girls, for the first time. I won her over with that very linguine, and for the past 25 years, that has been our anniversary dinner.
Chef Akinori Tanigawa of KIGO
For my child’s school sports day, we woke up early and made onigiri together, shaping each one by hand and carefully packing them into a lunchbox. At lunchtime, we sat side by side on the field and shared the meal we had prepared together. A simple moment that felt incredibly special.
Image credit: Supplied/Pinterest
Mariam Khawer is a Dubai-based writer and PR professional whose work spans food, art, and travel across the region. When she isn’t chasing deadlines, she’s likely at a gallery opening, testing out a new restaurant, piecing together one of her mixed-media art projects or at home with her four cats, who keep her on her toes.
