Farzi Cafe at City Walk 2, Dubai
Newly-opened Farzi Café at City Walk 2 takes experimental gastronomy to new heights
Published: Fri 15 Apr 2016, 12:00 AM
Last updated: Fri 15 Apr 2016, 2:00 AM
First, the name. Farzi. Stupidly, I thought it had something to do with Farsi, the language. I have no idea why I'd have assumed Zorawar Kalra - son of Indian celebrity chef Jiggs Kalra and founder of Farzi Café - would have wanted to invest in a Persian semantic twist to desi cuisine. But I did. And then, someone set the record straight. Farzi (pronounced: 'fur', rhymes with 'sir', and 'zi' with 'zee') is Urdu for something that isn't quite what it seems. If you look up Urdu-to-English "translative" dictionaries, you are bound to come across words like "fake". But I'd go with "illusion". So should you - because there's something magical about illusions. Which is what sets the tone at Farzi Café. Magical.
The illusions come in the context of molecular gastronomy. Again, if I were you, I wouldn't go deep-diving into the origins or the (molecular) physiology of this new-fangled branch of cooking. Suffice it to say it's all about giving a completely different flip to the menu: you are eating something that sounds - and even tastes - conventional, but the processes and ingredients that have been applied during preparation draws from entirely new parameters.
Take the case of the Burmese khao suey. Noodles have been replaced with steamed rice; chicken broth with vegetable stew (mandatory coconut milk and kaffir leaves in place); and the famous trimmings that made khao suey so legendary (veggies, fried onion/garlic, spices etc) have been replaced by farsan, the popular Gujarati/Marathi "mixture". Mix it all up and squeeze a slice of lemon - you feel like khao suey just got better. I'm saying it as a huge khao suey fan, so it better mean something.
Pita gol gappas are the Arabic avatar of the paani puri. The spicy potato/chickpea stuffing is swapped with couscous and tabbouleh, but potato makes a 'sides' appearance in the form of a light chaat. Now, you need to fill gol gappa shells with fiesty mint/coriander/tamarind water; but here, the coriander muddle is complemented by delectable labneh (food, too, belongs in the six degrees of separation loop. Q: How close is labneh to butter milk? A: Very). Other 'Arabic'-spin signatures include the shawarma biryani, and the kadak chai soda; the latter is a concoction of sweet spices and black berries with a touch of ginger, served out of a traditional teapot.
What I probably like the best - okay, more like a first among equals - is the raj kachori, innards replete with tangy pumpkin and sweetened yoghurt. Giving it a new dimension was a finely cut, crispy okra salad, which I (normally) wouldn't have imagined putting in a cameo in a raj kachori blockbuster.
Farzi Café's décor lives up to the tag of a 'modern bistro': trendy (plant pots hanging upside down), with high ceilings, lots of light and a kind of bespoke vintage elegance. It doesn't intimidate; you're pulled into the dining experience. There's a lovely al fresco area that opens up in the evenings; it segues with the very London-esque City Walk 2 (yes, complete with red telephone booths).
Every food presentation is a photo op, and it's almost painful to break the mould when you have to eat. This one's going to go far with Instagrammers, and will have a very wide social media reach. I was also fascinated by Farzi's tableware. The serving dishes (outsourced from all over the world) throw up a surprise each time they pop up on the table. My quail eggs on a bed of minced chicken, for instance, comes lodged in the opened-up inside of a bottle which is locked and held supine by a chained metallic 'anchor'.
A word of caution. Don't "drop by" at Farzi for a quick meal. Have time on your side. This is molecular gastronomy in the practical sense. Food has to be seen. Dissected. Savoured. Comprehended. And, most importantly, the 'illusions' need to be seen right through.
sushmita@khaleejtimes.com
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