May 3, 2026

It was a special occasion.

Both of us, materialistically challenged, were finding it difficult to find avenues to celebrate, despite the overload of influencers screaming their lungs out on our Instagram feeds.

Before you assume that we are spiritually evolved beings who don’t give a damn about finer things in life- stop. We do. We just don’t encounter such pleasures often. Furthermore, materialistically challenged feels much better than admitting that the fine things in life come at a cost. Some might argue that I am just being clever in rebranding my financial limitations. They would not be entirely wrong.

Anyways, on this beautiful day, we booked a Michelin-star restaurant by a famous chef- so famous that we had to Google his name, in case it comes up during the course of the meal and in case we had to nod or appreciate him. We figured we were gastronomically challenged as well.

Now fate decided to test our resolve a bit more. That very morning, our neighbours across the strait sent a dozen missiles that unfortunately broke up in the sky enroute their targets, and some small pieces landed right outside the restaurant where we had booked.

Fortune favours the brave. Neither the restaurant cancelled our reservation nor we backed out. Instead of cancelling, we took the opportunity of calling the restaurant and asking for discounts.

“Well, it is slightly explosive outside. Any chance of discounts?” we asked.

It is all about asking! We got a good deal and we ignored the frenzied media and headed towards our destination. It was a 12-course meal that took us on a journey of life!

All I had learnt about Consumer behaviour in the Marketing lectures back when I was young, millions of years ago, came back flooding to me.

As I entered the restaurant, I was filled with excitement, imagining flavours, textures, experiences. The man who walked out, however, was a different person. Slightly confused. Very hungry. Deeply introspective.

That man, by the way, was me.

We were treated to what I can assume were gold service standards, having no previous experience of such luxury – hot towels, fake smiles and not so genuine concerns of our wellbeing! We were seated in an empty restaurant and immediately we both realised that we could possibly have bargained our way to an even better discount than we had got. Lost opportunity!

The meal began with the impeccably dressed gentleman coming to our table and emphatically emphasising that the first course in the 12-course meal is complimentary. The dish looked magnificent. I think we had a masala papad, that was so well dressed, that it had been in culinary terms “ELEVATED” to something else, but tasted just like a well garnished masala papad.

The second course was a couple of tiny bites of Dhokla. By the time I took a bite, they had vanished in my mouth, without disturbing the rest of the digestive system. However, I must say they were the best Dhoklas I have ever had and I have had Dhoklas three times in my life. The accompaniment was a tamarind ice cream! At this point, I realised something important: Fusion food is when two perfectly good dishes meet, fall in love and then produce an offspring nobody asked for.

The courses continued.

Entire meal was like this - good stuff on its own, accompanied by good stuff on its own and when they were fused, tasted like Rachels Trifle from FRIENDS.

I reached my peak of disappointment when we were served momos, along with Rasam- for crying out loud! We were made to feel exotic, when the handsome North Eastern chef came out and conjured some magical potions with smoke coming out of everywhere around the succulent momos. He did not notice the smoke coming out of my ears, though.

The dessert was “elevated” beyond our reach. I cannot explain, literally. There were hundreds of tiny pieces of various textures on the plate, which looked as if the plate had slipped out of the chef’s hand and, as an afterthought, he decided to keep it and call it art.

I had fasted since the afternoon, looking forward to these 12 courses and also believing that 12 course meal would be a satisfying experience. It was indeed, after we had a proper dinner again, at Karama.

As we were sitting in Karama and having Neer Dosa with Chicken curry, Prof. Jenkins from the business school and I started having a conversation within the confines of my brain and the topic was “How do these fine dining restaurants get customers and why they are financially successful?”.

Well, honestly one meal in a fine dining setting does not qualify me as an expert. For all I know, I must have gone to the only restaurant in the world where momos meet rasam.

Waiting lists of restaurants like Alinea, Pujol and Mani (three restaurants I learnt recently from Netflix, of course) are in years and not even months. The food there must be really good. I have no idea!

Here is my thought.

Fine dining doesn’t just sell food. It sells “Status”. Many will argue it is not just food; it is an experience. Momo meeting rasam on a plate of dry ice is not an experience, definitely not for me!

When a restaurant opens, it invites the crème de la crème, the kind of people who cannot say no because everyone else in their circle has probably also been invited.

The restaurant says, “Important people are coming.”

The important people think, “This must be important.”

And just like that, a mutual agreement is formed.

Then the photos come out. The buzz begins. And the rest of us follow, curious, hopeful, slightly underdressed and overly optimistic that our stomachs will be filled.

As far as food goes, no one dares to criticize, except some ardent wise food critic, practitioner of a dying art.

With the explosion of social media, a new exploration has emerged and the “Holy grail” is the hidden gem awaiting discovery- “the best charmuri”, “the best ghee dripping dosa” … the list goes on with many ambitious people going global in terms of fusion – “Hot and Spicy Pasta”, “Idly Manchurian”, “Dosa Tacos” etc. When there is excess of Amul butter grated on a plate, suddenly the food becomes Insta worthy!

Street food is glorified. Fine dining is mystified.

Somewhere in the middle, the real winners exist – serving tasty, hygienic, good food without edible paint and excessive dry ice.

As long as those places exist, I think we’ll be alright.

Fine dining can keep its theatre.
Street food can keep its chaos.

And we, the gastronomically challenged, will continue to enjoy the best of both worlds.

Preferably ending the night in Karama, the food capital of Dubai.