Something for the Weekend #14
Italy as a tonic for 2025. Lido 84 has still got it. MOOD MUSIC. The Cullinan first impressions. Dinner, revisited. A collection of writings, and a teaser 🫖
June felt like an out-of-body experience. I turned the page on not one but two career highlight deals. Italy called, but it would not come easily.
Packing for holidays was easier pre-child. Now the third and smallest in our tribe somehow draws in—like a black hole—a vast universe of stuff, big and small.1 Baby chair, stroller, luggage, sterilised bottles, formula, snacks, comically large stuffed carrot (seriously), spare clothes for the flight, nappies and various detritus that fall under panic packing and the just in case. This was the easiest part.
At the age of 42 and a half, I arrived at the check-in desk face-to-face with a nightmare that I hoped I would never experience: I left my passport at home, a fact made worse as there was not enough time for a return trip to collect it. Let’s just say my 19-month-old son watched his father—and alleged grown man—stomp around the Emirates Silver and Gold check-ins like a primordial caveman riddled with self-loathing, as others witnessed me working through all Five Stages of Grief with a special residency in a cul-de-sac known as anger.
I want to say at this stage that the Emirates team were nothing short of exceptional, both in terms of managing the situation and getting us onto another flight (with an upgrade, woohoo!) with enough velvet glove EQ to manage me.
I will spare you the details of summoning our cat sitter to break into our house to get my passport; the fact the spare key I had cut only the day before (and, regrettably, did not test before leaving) for said cat sitter did not work—causing more than a mild sense of panic about the welfare of our three cats for two weeks; the last minute hotel room at Sheraton Milan Malpensa—a quasi-utilitarian, greyscape that leans hard on its location USP; the fights with our rental car company about our late arrival and—despite notifying them in writing, as required—said rental company gave away our car and I rented at additional cost; or the crashing realization two days later in Piemonte that I left a new suit behind—the one I planned to wear at Lido 84, more on that later and, instead, I bought a new blazer in Verona a week later. To Italy, we went!
Italy: Piemonte, Lago di Maggiore and Verona.
Three days in Moncalvo reconnected us with the architects and a gardener overseeing the incoming renovation work on our house. Even as a West Indian living in the Middle East, I stand in awe of the eye-watering bureaucracy and inefficiency of Italy, but persevere we shall.
We experienced the bustling weekly market in Moncalvo stocked with artisanal purveyors of cheese, olives, arancini and cured meats. We slumped into the cosy Trattoria Corona Reale for the quiet satisfaction that only warm agnolotti and brisk Gavi can bring (write-up, incoming). La Bottega del Vino di Moncalvo, a cobbled, charming wine shop that proudly sources its wares within Monferrat—one of Piemonte’s most important wine regions—dispensed bottles of Cortese, Nebbiolo and Barbera del Monferrato for their analgesic benefits. Between it all, we aimlessly pushed said stroller around in quiet admiration of Piemonte’s bucolic splendour. An unexpected highlight: witnessing a couple, easily in their mid-40s, passionately making out inside a children’s playground in the late summer twilight, while I carried the stuffed carrot my son left behind in the (overpriced) rental car.
We stopped off at the Arona end of Lake Maggiore for a looksie and some light shopping en route to retrieving my parents flying in from Portugal to nearby Milan Malpensa. I am accepting recommendations for other areas of Lake Maggiore.
Our Airbnb, moments outside Verona, was a mixed blessing, but it ticked the bigger boxes: quiet, pastoral isolation amid olive trees and plenty of green space to allow a child to burn off some energy within line of sight while parents and grandparents grazed on salads of summer peaches and milky burrata chased down with Franciacorta—and a revelatory, natural Cortese. 6 pm aperos summoned expeditions to nearby bars, all with breathtaking views overlooking the rolling hills around Veneto. There’s a casual, unspoken awesomeness amid these hills around Verona that impressed me and even made me quietly ask myself, “Should we have bought around here instead?”
Lake Garda, Lido 84 and Mum’s birthday.
We brought a very special lady to Ristorante Lido 84 on the shores of the well-heeled and pristine Lake Garda. Commentary about lunch is a heap of laudatory praise about one of the world’s best restaurants—now No. 16 in World’s 50 Best—and how it only has one Michelin Star, I will never understand. The talented chef Riccardo Camanini and his fabulous brother, Giancarlo Camanini, truly come to define hospitality. Highlights across our seven course tour d’force, contemporary Italian lunch: an off-menu “sheep marmalade” encased and aged in beeswax for a month; a light, fresh langoustine with citron, almond and za’atar; their seminal fusilloni with green Marinda tomatoes and pesto; Gigli with razor clam livers and steamed razor clam with roasted sesame and chives (a warming, perfect bite) and an assault of desserts to finish. We waddled away, entranced with wide smiles.
Write.
There were some passionate exchanges about my views that Bread is not a course, so stop serving it as one, my most engaged Substack post to date! I advised you to pack your bags in September and head over to Cairo Food Week. I followed up with the third in my four-part series analysing if and why food influencers (and writers) should be more honest in their content.
Last SFTW, I signalled that I would switch things up around here. This content—and more—leans into this new chapter of my Substack… and I’ve got some news/announcements for next month’s newsletter 😉 🫖
MOOD.
Eat.
The Cullinan, a relatively new steakhouse inside the also relatively new and palatial Jumeirah Marsa Al Arab, became the backdrop for a celebratory dinner. I consistently heard good things, but I couldn’t make it earlier—better late than never. The Cullinan is so large, it could straddle two post codes, with 300+ covers and views across the Arabian Sea and onwards to other Jumeirah stalwarts like the Jumeirah Burj Al Arab. A 6 pm seating afforded us with sunset views over the Burj Al Arab, which I cannot recommend enough. A review is likely incoming, but The Cullinan straddles a few demos like date night, corporate boondoggles and special occasions more broadly, but bring a BIG cheque book: she ain’t cheap.
Barely a newsletter passes without some news about a stalwart favourite, BOCA. Mrs EatGoSee and I went for their Terroir evening to meet with like-minded wine enthusiasts, stewarded through some provocative bottles by Shiv Menon, sommelier, and chef Patricia Roig. Highlights: the glazed lamb ribs, the sweet corn soup and, from the wine, the 2021 Iraun Rioja (white), 2021 Mullineuz Schist Syrah (South African), 2019 Zuccardi Finca Las Cerrilladas (Argentina) and a Spanish dessert wine, Finca Mancloa Tintilla de Rota 2017.
Lastly, I was invited to Dinner by Heston Blumenthal Dubai in the Atlantis the Royal to check out their revised tasting menu, updated to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Heston’s Fat Duck in Bray. As usual, the Dinner by Heston is a class act. See earlier write-ups by me, here, and by
, here about the Sunday Roast. Highlights: Sommelier Arturo Scamardella’s pairings, chef Chris Malone’s beetroot and horseradish amuse bouche, the venison with pickled beetroot and smoked chestnut and the cheese trolley *swoon*.
Great Substack reads.
Not a Substack read, but
’s new book, Picky, is a total joy. I am listening to it on Audible, here.The incomparable
weighs in on NYT’s critics double up, plus its critics’ policy change, here.- ’s essay (and clarity) anti-overtourism in Sevilla struck a chord, especially as someone who comes from the tourist bait of the Caribbean, here.
- again on how to become a Sherry educator, here!
The prolific
’s piece about what goes on when we leave the restaurant, here. Side bar: his whole Notes on a Napkin conjures fond memories of working in restaurants decades ago.- ’s tips on doing Puglia right, here.
- interview with Adam Simmonds of Voyage, London, here.
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.
I am a big fan of em hyphens, and I make no bones about it. I know about this theory that they are indicators of ChatGPT material, but not here folks.
Thanks so much for the mention, really appreciate it.
Oh my goodness Liam! I think your airport experience was a smidge more stressful than my final day of holiday meltdown about not wanting to leave and having a job interview on my first day back (also featuring car breakdowns). Italy sounds like it compensated for that initial stress thankfully. And the mention is much appreciated! ❤️