Dubai Coffee Museum: More than just a caffeine high

Walk down the quaint alleyways spotted with souvenir stores and art cafes, and it's easy to get lost in all the serenity. It's almost like the movies, where houses are close to one another, making it a closely knit community. One of the houses here has been converted into the Coffee Museum. What once was a pet project by Khalid Al Mulla, the museum director, has grown to be a two-storey-full collection of coffee history, garnished with antique tools, grinders, roasters, brass urns, coffee-sacks, sampling implements and ornate cups.

From the get go, a very distinctive aroma of coffee fills the air. As it pulls you in, you pass a majlis - a meeting room, and you walk right in front of a big silver object which is an Egyptian charcoal fire burner. A metal pot with a wooden handle, ibrik is placed on a bed of sand which is heated by charcoal. The hot sand heats the ibrik equally on the side resulting in a perfect brew.

The Coffee Museum in Hamburg inspired Al Mulla to take his passion for coffee to the next level. "The difference between my museum and any other is that I have antiques from all over the world," he says. It is evident with the display of grinders and roasters dating back to the 1800s, from European and Western countries as well as Arab countries.

Yemen was the first country in the Middle East to acquire a taste for coffee, which only developed into a love for the product. The museum takes you through the journey of coffee, from the Middle East via the Ottoman Empire to Europe, and back to where it belongs.

One of the pieces is a painting made with coffee. It adds quite a character to the museum. An eye-catching antique used to be the coffee grinder manually built out of used copper bullets after the World War II - because metals weren't easily available then. Among objects that date back 300 and 400 years, vintage coffee grinders and tins occupy pride of place in the museum. The most prized artefact is the British Royal grinder; it still has the Royal Crown etched on both sides.

A room labelled Coffee Origins houses beans from most coffee producing countries like Ethiopia, Mexico, Rwanda, Vietnam, Colombia, Brazil, Peru, India and Guatemala. From a light roast to a dark one, it's amazing how much a little bean, once a cherry, can transform.

It's not only the roast that matters but also factors like region, climate, storage, altitude, seasonal changes, transportation and packaging. JB, the barista at the café in the museum, explains how each brewing method can influence the flavours, body and taste of a particular coffee bean.

The first floor has the café and a library that is home to books on coffee. Beside it is a media room where audiovisual information on coffee is always at hand.

Over a conversation about popular coffee, while sipping on Arabic coffee infused with cinnamon, served with a date, Al Mulla laughs and says that "instant coffee is poison." It can be confusing for anyone who only knows commercial coffee. But this museum does a good job of changing your mind, for the better.

Coffee occupies a special spot in UAE traditions, Al Mulla says. "It is an Emirati tradition to serve coffee first to any guest. It is a sign of hospitality, and our way to say welcome." In fact, the tradition of making Arabic coffee is among 20 practices newly recognised by UNESCO, the UN's cultural agency. Unesco said Arabic coffee is a symbol of generosity: "Serving Arabic coffee is an important aspect of hospitality in Arab societies."



Visitors can try traditional blends of Arabic, Ethiopian, Turkish and Vietnamese coffee, or even opt for a cup of Fairtrade coffee from Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua and Colombia.

It's more than a museum, and not just another café. The Coffee Museum is the perfect blend of education and history.

Photos by Dhes Handumon. This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com

A taste from the table of Indian Royals

Dark wooden furniture, warmly lit interiors, with accents of brass and gold, Gazebo at Deira City Centre whisks you away from the maddening crowd and bright stores that surround it. It makes you feel as close to Indian royalty as you can.

The summer in the UAE can wear you out, and the moment I entered this haven of goodness, I could suddenly feel relaxed. To soothe my parched self I asked for the coconut water with mint leaves and honey. A new twist to the original drink, I thought it would have tasted best if served chilled. Anyway, getting my hands on real coconut water made me happy enough. And for once I didn't associate a coconut drink with the beach and my toes in the sand. It's as elite as coconut water can get.

Then came the Mango Lassi. This was a make it or break it order I'd placed; because Mango Lassi can either be really good, or can go horribly wrong. To my delight, it was spot on. One moment it tasted like a mouthful of mango, and the next it was a creamy sip of lassi. There wasn't an in between, and I wasn't complaining.

(L-R) Mango Lassi; coconut water with mint leaves and honey

So far, my experience at Gazebo was going well. The stillness of the restaurant was only disturbed by the occasional sound of utensils in the distance, by the aroma of spices in the food being served to other customers, and by the waiters' constant politeness. 

For appetizers, I was pretty confused by the vast menu. But the staff was really kind, they not only suggested dishes, but also gave me the time to decide. I knew I wanted the food of kings, and my mind kept echoing "Shahi" (translates to Royal in Hindi). This place just makes you want to taste royalty. So I ordered for Gosht Zafrani Seekh which was minced mutton in spices, flavoured with saffron, skewered and chargrilled. It was spiced perfectly for my palate. It blew my mind - spiced, flavoured, textured. It had every element to make every bite impeccable.                    

Next on was the Kalimirch Kebabs. The chicken was cooked beautifully - think tender, marinated in curd with a right sprinkle of kalimirch (black pepper corns).

(L-R) Gosht Zafrani Seekh, Kalimirch Kebabs

While I waited for the appetizers to arrive, I gorged on some crispy papad and dips of mint + curd chutney, along with some lightly spiced curd. The dips complemented the fiery red Gosht Zafrani Seekh and ever-succulent buttery Kalimirch Kebabs to a T. 

What makes the biryani so good?

I was starting to get quite full up with the rich platter of starters. So I moved onto main course, and asked for the most raved about dish at Gazebo - the Boti Hyderabadi Briyani. To give you an overview it is boneless chunks of mutton marinated in a special Hyderabadi masala, cooked in spices, rice, fried onions and boiled egg. When it arrived to my table, it looked real delicious and tasted just as heavenly. 

Biryani being served

Boti Hyderabadi Briyani

There was this one ingredient I can't quite understand, but it just enhanced all the flavours in that biryani pot. I could taste it, but couldn't pin it. It was a little like ginger, and then star anise, and a little cumin somewhere in between. I asked the waiters, and even the manager and his reply was, "It's the chef's secret." I wanted to pry on this secret ingredient, but am still to find out.

Firni

I ended the meal with a good helping of firni, which is a sweetened rice dessert. It's rich, it's heavy and the one they serve at Gazebo sure melts in your mouth.

I'd been there for two hours and still wasn't ready to leave. There was something that made me want to stay. I wasn't dreading the heat outside, or the work that followed, it had to be the experience that I never wanted to end. Well for the afternoon, at least. 

Verdict: Portions suffice two

Must try: Gosht Zafrani Seekh and Boti Hyderabadi Briyani

Cost for 2: Dh200

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com

Eid in the life of a daily wage labourer

Abdul Majid and Sabir Hussain hoping to procure one meal for the day.
Photos by Kymberlee Fernandes

On one of the most celebrated days in the United Arab Emirates, I walked the streets around the industrial area in Al Quoz. On Eid you’d expect a few good sentiments and if nothing else, a warm smile. But everywhere I looked, there were men, sitting out in the heat, doused in gloom and uninterested in this big festival.

But Eid is all about being happy, so why were these people unhappy? For starters, many of them were still trying to score their first meal for the day. It was already noon and they hadn’t found any work at all. Their day starts at 6am. And food isn’t their only problem. They don’t have a house to live in. One of the daily wage labourers, Abdul Majid from Pakistan said, “Eid? We don’t have a house; we sleep on tatters of cloth.”

To which his accomplice and neighbour from Pakistan, Sabir Hussain added, “We can’t afford to do anything at all. We sit here through the day hoping someone will come around to give us some work.”

Alone during Eid in Dubai. Sajid, a daily wage worker.Abdul Majid was quick to tell me that Eid always has to be celebrated with family, but he was all alone in the UAE and found no reason to do so. He continued saying, “I have not spoken with my family back in Pakistan today. They have frequent power cuts and cannot charge their phones. Inshallah, I will speak with them tonight.”

Sajid

“We have no money to call. I have five children and a wife, and it will be great if I manage to speak with them tonight”, said Sabir Hussain.

We had already been in a conversation long enough, but only once or twice did the topic of the day, Eid, come up. They had bigger issues than to decide how to spend their day leisurely. While the rest of Dubai’s residents and tourists were being enticed by retailers to go shopping and splurge, these men carried on like Eid was no big deal at all.

On the other hand, some workers could afford a meal and take the day off to spend it with their friends. Another labourer around, Sajid said, “Eid to me is a phone call to my family. There’s nothing more than that. I am working today.

It’s the same for every man here. No one can meet the expense of celebrating here.”

They work every day of the year. When I told Abdul Majid that I was working and hadn’t eaten too, at once he sprung “Madam, should I buy you something to eat?” I was left speechless.

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com

Who said it’s hard to get a driving licence in Dubai?

Like most of expats in Dubai, I came to the city with a mind to dwell among many nationalities and cultures while also earning a good living, but only for a couple of years. It has since been two years. I enjoy using public transport, which has proved to be very efficient in helping people like me get to get to work, to social meets and practically anywhere else I want to go. All it takes is a little effort. And thanks to apps like Wojhati and Google Maps, I’ve got around fairly well.

Without ever feeling the need to get a licence, one morning I woke up deciding to get one. It would not, indeed, be a bad idea to drive myself to wherever, whenever.
My tummy churned with anxiety as I thought: “There isn’t a chance that I am going to take some more classes, and dedicate more of my time and money in this driving licence ordeal.”

I’m a lazy lump, and that means I get work done in the fastest way possible, only to have enough time to laze around again. So my priority was to get it done in the quick.

Conveniently, I found a driving school that was about 700 metres away from my workplace. They also offered to pick and drop me through my practical lessons. Oh how the ‘lazy’ in me rejoiced. The icing? They dropped me to my theory classes too!

Most of my friends and acquaintances had taken up to four months to finally receive their driving licence, and that was one of the reasons I always stowed away the idea of having to even try. But now that I walked into the situation, I faced it as it came.

It took 20 days from my theory lesson to the theory test, and that’s when I thought, this is how slow I was told it was going to be. I passed in my first attempt (It would have killed my ego, had I failed). I went on with my practical lessons on the side — three days a week. Soon I was done with 20 classes and the internal mock test that followed. Listening to my friends I would have to wait about a month to get a road test slot.

On a more general course, the timeline from opening your file at a driving school to walking out with your UAE driving licence spans across three to four months, considering your performance in your mock test. If you fail that, the driving school will want you to take two more practical classes, followed by another mock test. And none of it is FOC.

To keep pace I went the following day of my last practical lesson, and voila! I got my road test slot within a week. Then came the big day, of which I had been warned one too many times. A handful of drivers I know had failed at least once, and why would I be any different?

Depending on the availability of a road test slot, I’ve noticed, women get it much quicker than men. Possibly because of the ratio of men and women in line to get a licence. A male co-learner got a slot a month later.

So I patiently waited for my turn; reversed the test car, drove out and about, returned, and waited for the judgment. After a while, the administrator at the school notified me that I have passed.

The test involved me driving the car on the streets around the school. The RTA inspector kept instructing me where I should turn, change lanes, and then finally stop.

Here is a tip: Stick to the rules. Always. The RTA examiner during my test wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, until I asked her to. It’s safer if you ask the co-examinees in the car, to wear their seatbelts too. Safety first, remember. In the following hour, I ran from one supervisor to another, got all the signatures, and walked out with a content heart and a UAE driving licence in my hand.

Most of this I owe to my driving instructor Nowsath Ali. His presence of mind, fun and innovative ways of teaching made the experience a breeze. Of all the inept instructor stories I’ve heard, he proved them all wrong.

Changing instructors a few times became a tale I heard ever so often. Three, four, five different people teaching you the same thing in five different ways makes the course much harder.

Stick to one or two instructors, follow the rules, stay alert and ask questions.

My instructor had me driving around the same block for about six classes. I asked for a change in route, suggesting the main road. He was pleased with my progress, and did in fact change track from a 40km internal road to a 60km one.

I still wonder what it is that everyone seems to be cribbing about when it comes to getting a driving licence in Dubai!

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com, well, because I'm their Web Journalist

A Lonely Mountain

Imagine all you see is just one mountain, in the middle of nowhere. There are lights that lead you to it, but they've been leading you all along, and you pass every streetlight, one at a time, hoping to get closer to that lone mountain.

And as you head towards it, you’re just being deceived by the many lights you drive by. There’s a dip in the temperature, the fog adds to your restlessness, you slow down. You want to go faster, but you want to stay alive to feed your curiosity too. As you fix your eyes on the curvy road, that brightly lit mountain switches from your left to your right. It’s right there; then you lose sight of it again. The road gets lonelier, the wind cooler, and your unsettling mind urges you to push forward at full speed.

You’ve driven too long to turn around. But Jabal Hafeet, that’s where you’ll stop. After that ride that you thought would never end, the top of the mountain looks so surreal. The city of Al Ain is at its feet. The same feet that you rose from. The valley is too dark to appreciate, but you’re sure it’s there. 



The breath of the wind is all you can hear, and it’s not calming. The cold breeze won’t let your car doors stay open. It’s the violent kind of gust. You defy it and walk across, taking in the freezing weather, in this forlorn desert.

While you’re there, you know well enough, that what you can see, is a just a fraction of what you’ve already seen. It’s not where you are, but what took you there. And for now, that would be me.