Resident food critic FoodSheikh traces Dubai’s culinary evolution – from glitter to grounding flavours
It is said (by me) that you never visit the same Dubai twice. For you are not the same person and Dubai is not the same city.
When I moved into my studio accommodation on Al Diyafa Street in August 2003, Dubai was a very different place, both spatially and emotionally. The city was still a singular destination; you could cross it in a single evening. Hard Rock to Teatro to Irish Village was an easy circuit and required zero post traffic therapy.
And emotionally, there was a sense of ambition and excitement – the city hummed with possibility, people were giddy with potential. In gastronomy, this was led by the arrival of international brands – I once read that Dubai had the highest concentration of global retail and F&B brands in the world during the mid-noughties. And it was these brands that signaled ambition and demand but also framed perception.
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And that perception was that if it wasn’t imported, it wasn’t any good. Homegrown was as foreign a concept as those that dominated the malls. Anyone remember Kim Kardashian’s million-dirham Millions of Milkshakes appearance in its tiny “behind-the-escalator” Dubai Mall location?
Of course, there were exceptions – where there are people, there will always be sparks of creativity and entrepreneurship. Japengo, Lime Tree Café, Ravi’s and Al Ustad were a few of the OG ‘homegrowns’ – defined informally as establishments born on UAE soil.
And it would be very ‘entitled expat’ of me not to acknowledge the dozens of cafeterias and restaurants that fed the Deira, Satwa and Bur Dubai communities for decades prior to my arrival. In fact, Al Mallah on Al Diyafa Street was my weekly go-to for several years.
And with the dominance of these global brands came the need to stand out – to match Dubai’s lofty global ambition in every sense, even with something as small as a plate of food. So, we were treated to ostentatious acts of theatre, ridiculous sparkler shows, monkeys in night clubs, world record breaking receipts and endless, bottomless brunches.
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And this psychology of spectacle made sense at the time. Imported gastronomy equaled legitimacy, and Dubai was a young city proving its sophistication to the world. What this meant was noise was often mistaken for relevance, and success was measured in PR coverage and queues. Quality, authenticity and longevity were not necessary KPIs.
Then came the tightening economy, the pandemic, and a shift in collective values. These transformative events were not the causes, but the catalysts for change. I think people started to look inwards – the novelty and newness made way for intimacy and reflection.
Because at some point, even sparklers lose their… sparkles.
And the sweet irony of it all was the drivers of change were sleeper cells in the very brands that helped define Dubai. Those imported brands were culinary trojen horses, filled with tomorrows entrepreneurs, ready to drive change and authenticity from within.
Dubai has never lost it’s ambition and competitivness – but it can now compete as a global equal, not a wild card. And with restaurants, I think the intent is still the same – get noticed and stand out from the crowd. There will always be a point to prove. But we’ve replaced sparklers with stories, theater with prose. Time has allowed both the industry and the consumer to mature and find their own voice.
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I’ve spoken a lot about the industry champions that drive story, authenticity and creativity into the city. What was once a small circle of chefs and entrepreneurs has grown into a wide ecosystem.
Mohammed Orfali, Akmal Anuar, Himanshu Saini and Reif Othman anchor one end of the scene. Neha Mishra, Stasha Tonchev, Shaw Lash, Natasha Sideris and Michele Johnson define another. Greg Malouf’s influence remains visible. Chefs like Masaru Sakagami and Aphisith Phongsavanh, along with newer voices such as Abhiraj Khatwani and Yana Tarabeine, sit in the same current – different career stages, but same momentum. Many others shape the industry as strongly; their omission here is a function of space, not relevance.
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But they have all understood the zeitgeist of the city – provenance, community, storytelling and regional ingredients. Smaller moments, bigger heart – a slow rebellion against performance dining.
The city has grown weary of ‘curated’ experiences and rediscovered the pleasure of a meal cooked by someone who gives a damn. There is also a generational undercurrent – young diners who have seen enough of artifice. They now want names, not brands. The human behind the plate matters more than the Michelin badge on the door. Diners are no longer passive consumers just watching the show, but citizens in a shared food ecosystem. Eating has a new social contract and there is a return to food as connection, not just content.
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You see, reinvention is not new to Dubai. It is Dubai; it’s the system through which the city defines itself.
You never visit the same Dubai twice, because identity here is iterative – both for us and the city – assembled through a continual balancing act between ambition and lived reality.
Image credit: @girl.and.the.goose on Instagram
FoodSheikh is a Dubai-based food writer and critic known for sharp, ethnographic observations of restaurant culture. He decodes how cities eat, linking chefs, dishes, and urban behavior. His writing blends anthropology, curiosity, and cultural critique, spotlighting the role of gastronomy in shaping identity, memory, and place.
