Like most of the city’s eateries, the restaurant had shed its usual decor, in favour of what I like to describe as: ‘garish ubiquitous redness’. Red table cloth, red, heart shaped, balloons, and of course, a red rose at each candle lit table. Our waiter, thankfully, did not wear red, he wore a purposefully I’ll-fitting black suit, which gave him the air a ‘night-club bouncer’. After presenting the menu, he rather aggressively barked the word “Drinks”. This guy had the unnerving ability to make a polite request sound like a threatening directive. Not in the mood for a fight, I allowed myself to be bullied into ordering a grapefruit juice. Wifey submissively acquiesced to his suggestion/threat of pomegranate juice. Awaiting the drinks we turned our undivided attention to the menu, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the scary waiter.
At first glance it is obvious that Mawaweel is Lebanese to the core, from decor, to music, to main courses. The word, mawaweel, is Arabic and describes the poetic preamble to a song, those short spoken verses uttered before the music begins – perhaps the musical equivalent to an appetizer. For our gastronomic preamble (starters) we chose the hummus beiruti, it was fabulous, the best I have tasted anywhere, and I consider myself something of a hummus connoisseur. We also had the fattoush salad, it too was perfect; ice cold, fresh, sprinkled – not saturated – with dressing, and generously bejeweled with the deepest red pomegranate seeds.
For a main course I had the mixed grill, while my wife went for the chicken arayis – minced chicken with parsley, cooked between two flat breads. The mixed grill was well crafted balance of delicately marinated chicken and lamb in various incarnations; skewered, filleted, on the bone and minced. Of particular note were the accompanying fries, chunky cut, and I suspect fried in good quality olive oil. Delicious. The mixed grill was also served with a compliment of intense garlic mayonnaise; not one for the fresh-breath enthusiast. The chicken arayis was excellent too, and such a huge portion. There was no room left for desert on this occasion, but on subsequent visits I’ve enjoyed Mawaweel’s excellent ‘mahalabia’ – a kind of milk based desert with pistachios and rose water.
Our appetites satiated, we began to discuss the “valentine-ization” of the UAE. The conversation drifted to the significance and origins of the rose as a symbol of love and romance. Interestingly, the modern European love affair with roses actually has its origins in the Middle East. A French nobleman, Thibaut IV, the Count of Champagne, is reported to have returned from the crusades with a hitherto unknown red flower – the rose. Perhaps this explains the close connection between champagne and red roses? The Arab world, of course, already had a longstanding appreciation of the rose’s beauty and medicinal properties. Ibn Sina, (Avicenna) 9th century scholar, describes in one of his works how the Rosa Damascena (Damascus rose) was widely cultivated in Syria for use in medicines. The Damascus rose is still highly prized for its aesthetic, medicinal and culinary virtues. No doubt the chef at Mawaweel adds a drop or two of Damascus rose water to choice recipes, especially on Feb 14th.
Photo by: Shaikha Al Tunaiji
