Its 7.24pm and I am rushing through the doors of the Burj al Arab, it was surprisingly easy to get across the rampart and penetrate the sail, as the 35 minute booking process had somewhat led me to believe that it would be a tad more difficult. Being a girl who likes to do as she is told, I am clad in a very non Maxine like mini dress, and heels, and yes I like to think I somewhat resemble a girl. I arrived in a taxi, determined to enjoy some form of cocktail in the Sky View bar. I was delighted to open my own door, close my own door and walk across the cobbles in the heat without the aid of anyone at all. It would have been awful of me to expect the doorman to open my door, for two reasons, 1) he would have had to walk away from the cold air and 2) it was after all a Dubai taxi and not an Aston Martin. My fault entirely. In and half way up the escalators I finally get a nod from someone, having been utterly ignored by the date and rose water wielding girls because I eschewed the rotating doors for the side doors.
Standing waiting for my partner in crime to arrive, I remembered how much I love the Burj Al Arab, and unbeknownst to all the staff there I know more about the building than any of them. So when one of the guest services staff casually informs me that the fountain I stand beside is really amazing. I smile and ask why, the answer left me rooted to the spot ; ‘Because it goes really high sometimes when a VIP comes, hopefully one will come tonight and you might see it’. Then smiled and wandered off leaving me wondering how he could have failed to know, that the man who designed the entire set of waterworld the film had designed that very ‘fountain’, that it was actually called the Hypershooter, and that it was able to play in time to music, that if need be it could shoot water up to the tips of the golden arches above my head every 6 minutes if it needed to. That when it did ‘shoot’ what was so remarkable was that it didn’t splash the floor on its way down. I stood smiling, wondering why he had been so delighted to share a piece on information with me that was entirely useless, and if I hadn’t have known better, left me thinking ‘well that’s not very good’. I daren’t even think about whether he knew that the ‘fountain’ was indeed intrinsically linked to the water feature in the lobby, or at the entrance, and I think the air fire and water link may well have astounded him. I wont even begin to discuss the type of flooring surrounding the hypershooter, and the clever way it had been laid. That may have resulted in me being removed from the Burj.
En route upstairs in the panoramic lifts, my hair do took a bit of a battering thanks to the distinct lack of AC, but the welcome was just as warm as the airless lift. We were escorted to our table, and regardless of the reservation being in my name, so began the evening of calling my friend Mr. Redding, when he is neither my brother nor my father nor my husband. The mistake can be understood once, granted, but it gets a bit wearing after time. The view is as always spectacular, and the service lovely. We were welcomed by the manager, and despite saying we didn’t want to look at the Al Mahara menu’s were presented with them. Turned out to be a great touch, and the ease of which our bill was transferred downstairs and the genuine smiles of all the staff are what makes Al Muntaha a fantastic place. Skyview bar I love. I especially love their blue cheese and cheese quiche. Genius.
Al Mahara, having had so much conversation about the dress code it was a shame that it wasn’t being upheld by all the diners that evening, and the evening wouldn’t have been quite the same without the family next to us who took photos of each meal, each course and every fish in the tank, the click of that camera became quite the accompaniment. The manager was obviously quite liberal with his ‘discretion’ that evening. The most used phrase of the evening had to be ‘sorry for interrupting …’ I don’t think I have ever had so many waiters enquire as to if we are having a nice time before. I was tempted at this point to create a sticker for my dinner date with his name on it, in an effort to get the staff to talk to each other and let them know that calling him Mr. Redding was going to elicit me sighing and telling them for the 3rd time that I was Miss Redding and he was not actually a Redding. Something which may seem a little pedantic, but in this day and age, discretion should be top of the list at a 7 star hotel. Thankfully I am not an undercover spy or indeed having an affair, or cheating on a non-existent husband, so it all it caused was mild amusement rather than an international incident, although it would have been great if I wielded enough power to have gone that route. The food itself was great. What I wanted to have was food I wasn’t going to get anywhere else, the kind of food that leaves you raving about it, you know the heaven on a plate, how on earth did you do that kind of food. A great example is the black cod in Zuma. I can see you all nodding, or the roast pork in Gary Rhodes mezzanine, bliss indeed, or the ribs in Billy blues, or the fish and chips at the Rivington, all the things that make you smile and forget everything else. The fish and chips in the Rivington can literally make me forget anything else except them and how cold my wine is. The food in the burj was great. Very nice indeed. Well mine was, I can report back that my opposites plate was cleaned both times, although as he had Lamb I cannot comment (hate the stuff) although it did look raw enough that a good vet could get it back on its feet without too much hassle. Having asked for it medium, the response was that it was ‘painted’. The wine was exceptional, 10 brownie points to J for choosing wisely and a million brownie points to the Burj for actually serving it cold enough to stop me having to ask for ice cubes and reveal my peasant like attitude to wine.
We retired to the Juna bar for drinks, which revealed one of the worlds worst designed bars, watching our waiter have to duck into a 2 foot hole in order to bring our drinks was highly amusing for us, but less amusing for him. I do hope that Jumeirah pays for his chiropractor. A few classic whiskies and a few more freezing cold glasses of wine and we called it a night.
I have to say it was a great night, but that I have to say in all honesty that is down to the company, the kind of company that means you could have fun whether you are in the Burj or in an cardboard box. The key things we learned were that :
- You too can have Al Mahara style menus at home by popping to Dragon Mart and buying the same oyster shells for 5 dhs a go.
- The submarine is never mentioned when it is being ‘serviced’.
- That one day I want to be able to order a 5000dhs martini.
- That dwarves were involved with the design of the Juna Bar
- Moray Eels are ace at hiding and the Fish tank is not the same without Wally
- You have to have your restaurant on its own island in order to charge those kind of prices
- If you are having a special occasion be sure to go to the Burj, they ask you at every opportunity if it’s a special day for either of you, but don’t plan any surprises
- The ‘taxis’ to take you home are ace, they make you feel very special and aren’t really very much more in cost than a dubai taxi, quality move BAA.
The Burj Al Arab was once the pinnacle of modern cuisine and luxury and I went expecting it to blow me away as it always has throughout my time here, I adore the Burj, I love it, I stick up for it, and I believe it is great. However in the Dubai we now live in that has restaurants that are of such high quality, and that has upped its levels of service, the Burj has remained the same. Whether this is a good thing or not remains to be seen. For me though, the Burj as the place to go to experience something you cant get anywhere else is a myth. The Burj is a place to go and look, because you will never see anything like it anywhere else, the carpets, the gold, the attention to detail, the opulence, the luxury, the downright arrogance of the building makes me smile. If only the restaurants were the same.
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