Amused Bouche 02

Bite-sized if not biting commentary. In this issue, disappointment and delight in Dubai and the UK, and one of the best meals to ever pass these lips.

Peep issue 01.

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TRINJAM Fusions Cafe, Dubai Marina, Dubai.

This one hurts me. As someone from the Caribbean who writes about food, people regularly ask me to recommend Caribbean restaurants. I hoped that TRINJAM would be just that, but it isn't and I can't.

A chorus of casualties stems from one issue: TRINJAM does too much.

A Trinidadian and Jamaican restaurant (strange) somehow finds it necessary to make room for American and “Russian” things on the menu.

The result? 110 dishes where I'm metaphorically still turning the menu pages some four months later.

It’s overwhelming, and I have the advantage of not only knowing these dishes but having a positive, nostalgic affection for many of them.

Decisions saw menus in half. Thirds even. All is not lost. TRINJAM must decide what it wants to be, focus and go hell for leather. But intervention is required.

The food? Oversized portions based on the two dishes I ordered: the Bake and Shark and the Doubles. Each could feed two, maybe three people—another example of where more should be less.

It’s not that the food isn’t tasty, because it is. And as a Trinidadian, I could bore you with authenticity, but who cares? This is street food gentrified when the original would work just as well. Here again TRINJAM does too much.

There is acres of room for mould-breaking restaurant concepts outside Dubai’s de riguer four horsemen of Italian, Japanese, the tasty offerings of the Desi diaspora and whatever the collective noun is for fried fast food things delivered in motorbikes.

TRINJAM is a large, colourful restaurant, exuding vitality with juxtaposing red, black, green and yellow inside a prime Dubai Marina location, but I was the only person not working here—which included an owner who never came over to say hi to his only customer or ask them why they sent two half eaten dishes back (and neither did the chefs or staff), and all this without a Deliveroo driver in sight.

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Mashawi, Neighbourhood Foodhall, Dubai.

Mashawi is one of the latest openings at NFH and it fills the spot my beloved Al Naqa once occupied. Mashawi means “grilled” or barbecued” in Arabic, and in there lies the clue. It’s a Syrian quick food concept from the industrious Salam, also behind Dukkan el Baba and Tacosita.

Come for tender kofta, a thumb knuckle deep in earthy tahini; planks of Syrian Toshka—a grilled flatbread pocket lysing with spiced minced meat (lamb, I believe), cheese and more; their staples like batata harra—spiced cubed potatoes in coriander and lemon juice, and the fattoush. Would I return? Yes, delicious food at affordable prices. What’s not to like? Mashawi is a worthy neighbour in a good neighbourhood.

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Kokum & Kari, Neighbourhood Foodhall, Dubai.

Does eating one dish justify a quick mention? It can when the chicken xacuti was so exceptional. Kokum & Kari is a South Indian and Sri Lankan restaurant named after a sour mangosteen-looking fruit and kari, the Tamil origin for the word curry. Instagram tells me that Kokum & Kari is the brain child of Roobaru, another well-known Indian restaurant. Xacuti is a Goan coconut based curry made with woody spices like clove and cinnamon with an underlying tang courtesy tamarind or vinegar. We pinched hunks of soft chicken xacuti between buttery layers of paratha. It was so moreish, my wife and I warred with spoons eating out of the takeaway container. Consequently, I never took a good photo. Would I return? I will return.

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Canary Club, Jumeirah Lakes Towers, Dubai.

Canary Club is perilously close to my offices, so it is the predictable haunt for leaving dos and polite gatherings. Three years after opening, the food still middles inside a space that feels more like it wants to sell you furniture and lamp shades. In fairness, I have never had a bad meal at Canary Club, but it’s founded on utterly forgettably cooking where on a currency of calories, I would rather get in the car and drive elsewhere than walk over the road, which is what I often do. It suffers a similar affliction to TRINIJAM where a broad menu does too much when a bit of focus and daring goes further. You can choose between tacos, sushi, ceviche, gyzoas, steaks and, bafflingly, there’s more. Would I Return? Canary Club fits the bill for a well-priced ladies’ nights and Happy Hours, and that’s the sweet spot.

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At the Chapel, Bruton, England.

At the Chapel on Bruton High Street is reliably open from breakfast to dinner turning out everything from croquettes and gentrified cheese burgers to pizzas so large they could pick up French radio miles into the British mainland. Don’t tell Reform; they’ll swear the pizzas are Europe through the back door. Slender wooden bench seats and bleach white walls accentuate the soaring ceiling with sage leatherish, high backed chairs that lend themselves to pots of tea and a plate of West Country cheese (£12), or maybe a glass of Wraxall Somerset rosé bubbles. It’s the kind of country casual and restrained simplicity that borders on elegant.

The food? Good with flecks of imagination but, our eight small plates consistently felt safe and underpowered. This is a sideways compliment because the kitchen has good ideas but I want to tell them “look boys, just to go for it!” Dial up the pungency in the squash pickle with those roast Jerusalem artichokes; the bouillabaisse-like pool beneath that croquette begs for some whomp and, while we are on it, make that croquette so suave on the inside, it cracks from its golden crumb like an egg because, right now, that’s a fish cake that’s Jet2’d to Spain, returned with a tan and a suspicious, unconvincing accent. Most people won't care about these points, but just a little more welly would impress and, instead, what stands out in my mind about At The Chapel’s food is the smallest of voids between what it is and greatness. Would I Return? Yes, also for drinks before going to The Old Pharmacy nearby.

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Osip, Bruton, England.

This is my second trip to Osip, but the first visit since its relocation further away from Bruton. I'm working through a longer form review but, suffice to say, this 10-course tasting menu with snacks, petit fours and optional supplements was what I've described as a lost for words, blindingly-good meal that takes Osip from being Chef Merlin’s playful exploration of local produce to world-class and comparable to a meal I enjoyed at Atelier Moessmer. Would I Return? Without question.

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3 fils, Jumeirah Fishing Village, Dubai.

I never understood why 3 fils enjoys such acclaim as I found it “fine” and nothing higher. This former MENA 50 Best #1 soldiers on, expanded and still busy four years after my last visit. Now I return for lunch with Sanjay Varman and friends. Its menu remains hard to define broadly Asian but with enough that clearly isn’t like carpaccios and ceviches. The standout dish more accurately called “Peak Dubai” is the Nigiri Bomb loaded with A5 wagyu, foie gras, Hokkaido uni, kaluga caviar and shingled with truffle. Unapologetically decadent and priced accordingly at 178 dhs for two draped slivers. Would I Return? I live far away, and I am more interested in what Chef Carmen is doing in Brix Journey next door.

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Brix Café, Jumeirah Fishing Village, Dubai.

No, not that Brix above. This is the more casual grab and go, sit and sip cafe next door to Chef Carmen’s dessert tasting menu at Brix Journey. It charms with harbour views and an airy, tall ceiling while pastries set behind a jeweller’s case thump away at your Ozempic’s resilience. The breakfast menu looks imaginative with Brussels sprouts, eggs and mushrooms; yuzu bowls; then there are eggs of different strides like spicy Turkish cilbir or canary yellow scrambled eggs with black truffle. I sipped a weapons-grade cold brew before ploughing into their Marguerite (40 dhs), a tropical yoghurt mousse dessert of mango, passion fruit and pistachios resembling a broach my grandmother could have worn—that is meant as a compliment. Would I return? Yes, but no time soon, because I live over 45 minutes away.

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Savryn, Wasl Vita, Dubai.

I sense that I will return to Savryn after a few months to check in on its evolution. My initial findings are hopeful, but with notes. Savryn offers a 10 course tasting menu for 450 dhs skipping around a clutch of African cuisines—Somali, Nigerian, Ghanaian, Kenyan and more—pitched to fine dining by Chef Shehab Medhat, an Egyptian chef and former Top Chef Arabia winner who spent a few years cutting his teeth in Ghana.

This is audacious to say the least and a sharp departure from the monotonous thrum of usual suspect I referred to earlier.

Expect a clever Somali Xawaash salmon cone; a light Nigerian Ata Din Din and tuna tartare; a tender, hulky wagyu Nigerian Suya and pomegranate molasses and soy-glazed lamb chops with corn polenta and Ghanaian shito—my favourite courses; and if none of that means anything to you, this makes my point that Dubai’s dining has becomes a malaise of same same where chef Shehab is forging a new path. I encourage this and I encourage him.

Candidly about half the menu does not yet present the best version of some dishes in my opinion, including one or two that could be removed altogether, but would I return? Yes, because with encouragement and focus, Savyrn is onto something. I hear a casual lunch menu is inbound, so stay on the lookout for that.

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Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook.