A legacy, in some sense, of Aden’s British-era stint as the Arabian Peninsula’s main shipping hub, al-Suri was established by an Omani who made his way from the eponymous city of Sur to the then bustling port to sell the sultanate’s famed gelatinous halwa. Aden’s monumental natural harbor may sit sadly underutilized today, but al-Suri has continued to thrive; indeed, I was a regular at their Sanaa location, located not too far from the Chinese embassy, during my time based in the Yemeni capital. Their original location—located in the midst of one of the district’s more charming historic streets—remains a Crater landmark, buzzing with Adenis young and old.

          In an odd, if inadvertent, mirroring of a key regional fault line, two of Khor Maksor’s most popular restaurants happen to be named “Dubai” and “al-Ikhwan.” There’s obviously no actual political relevance to either—and a number of my STC backing friends are al-Ikhwan fans—but let’s face it, the joke writes itself. I’ve patronized both and they’re both good, but I hit up al-Ikhwan, which has a more extensive menu, a bit more, hence the choice to give them a review. (Note: the owner of Mata3m Dubai is known for his ability to source excellent Doa3ni honey, so if you’re looking around, he may be your guy; further, their grilled intestine is oddly irresistible).

The Gulf is one of my favorite places to eat. The more luxurious aspects of cities like Dubai and Doha may get more attention internationally—and many of the region’s various high-end restaurants are, indeed, quite excellent—but it’s the potpourri of holes in the wall that tend to be found in more humble office blocks and shopping centers in the shadow of said cities’ towering skyscrapers that I tend to be most drawn to. In some sense it’s a matter of just having a change of scenery, getting a break from cafes, malls and hotel lobbies. But more than anything it’s about embracing the unknown—walking for a few blocks and popping into the first interesting option without reading a menu or review (something that, owing to the ubiquity of wifi and my own neurotic nature, has grown all the rarer). The results are often unexceptional, but just as often, they’re unexpectedly excellent. The best Thai Red Shrimp Curry I’ve ever had was in Riyadh; I’ve stumbled upon revelatory regional Filipino cuisine in Abu Dhabi. More often than not, I end up opting out of hotel breakfast and hopping to the nearest decent looking South Indian place for idly or a dosa.

During my most recent trip to Abu Dhabi, I had aims of once again going exploring. Unfortunately, it was July and, even after sunset, it rather hot and extremely humid. Two blocks in, as the air grew oppressive and I failed to find any solid leads, I though back to the Yemeni restaurant advertising mandi and madhbi that was across from my hotel. I ran back, quickly browsed the menu and ended up ordering takeout.

I opted for the chicken madhbi, though the menu was quite varied and reasonably priced. It was ready in about 15 minutes, after which I proceeded to haul myself back to my hotel as quickly as possible, plopping myself on the floor and almost jumping in before snapping a quick photo.

Chicken madhbi is generally, at worst average, but at its best, it can be almost transcendent despite its relative simplicity. Quality of ingredients aside, I often wonder how much of it is randomness. Does better chicken madhbi stem from better kitchen staff? Is it about the quality of the grill? Or is it simply a matter of fortuitous turn, one that manages to catch the interior of the chicken at peak juiciness while the exterior and skin are just managing to crisp? I don’t know to be honest—I’m not a food scientist. Either way, texture wise, this place managed one of the best chicken madhbi’s I’ve had outside of Yemen. Taste-wise, it similarly excelled. The sahawag and rise were nearly perfectly spiced, as was the chicken (all too often, the spicing of mahdbi outside of Yemen too closely resembles that of Levantine farouj).

On that end, al-Marhabani gets a nod of approval. I look forward to eating through their meat options next time I’m in AD.

Al-Marhabani is located in central Abu Dhabi roughly across the street from the Abu Dhabi Marriott

Crossposted at my medium site

The last name Shaibani is more or less synonymous with solid, well priced Yemeni food. While the Shaibani family hails from Taiz province, Shaibanis are present in numerous Yemeni and international cities, with roughly half a dozen of them dotting Yemeni capital’s upmarket Haddah street. The first Yemeni restaurant I ate in was a Shabiani—a place I was guided to while somewhat jetlagged with my friend Azd’s father, equal parts confused and amazed by the as-yet-unknown culinary banquet that I was eventually confronted with. When I heard through the grapevine that a Shaibani—or at least a place being called a Shaibani—had opened up in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bay Ridge, I was immediately intrigued.

In many regards, it was a long time coming. Long boasting one of the most vibrant Arab neighborhoods in the US, Bay Ridge is also a key hub of the Yemeni-American community. Once a heavily Italian, Irish and Norwegian neighborhood, over the past few decades, Ba Ridge has developed into Brooklyn’s Edgeware Road equivalent, with shops boasting a mix of Arabic and English signage and a flurry of restaurants, Arab groceries and specialty shops popping up.

Ironically, as Yemen has descended into war, Bay Ridge has boomed. Many Yemeni-American businessmen and shop-owners have directed a lot of money that would have previously been sent home internally, something that’s lead to an uptick in investment. As I walked down 5^th Avenue, the neighborhoods commercial hub, with my friend Rabyiah, a Yemeni-American organizer and activist who grew up in the area, we ended up stopping nearly every minute as she pointed out a new shop, each one representing a different story of hard work and perseverance. Incredibly, this has all come as Yemenis continue to be targeted by the Trump administration’s travel ban. It has affected nearly the entirety of the community, in many cases literally ripping families apart. But it has also served as the catalyst for unprecedented mobilization of Yemeni-Americans as epitomized by formation of the Yemeni-American Merchant Association (YAMA) and, most famous, the 2017 bodega strike, which saw New York’s roughly 5000 Yemeni-owned bodegas shut in protest of the travel ban.

Located in a redbrick building that reminded me of one of the front of my favorite Italian-owned Hoagie places in Philadelphia, the Brooklyn Shaibani similarly gestured to the culinary benefits of immigration. Rabyiah and I ordered fahsa, aqda and haneed, my general go-tos. The fahsa was excellent, as was the bread. The aqda—though delicious—struck me as quite unorthodox; the means of cooking both the chicken and vegetables was rather different than anything I ever remember eating in Yemen. The rice was perfectly spiced to the point of literally giving me flashbacks. To add to everything, they even sell Yemeni sweets made in a shop in Patterson New Jersey that I was, until now, wholly unaware of; the breadth and taste sweets themselves was quite impressive, even by the standards of Yemeni places in the wider Middle East.

The Brooklyn Shaibani is located at 3717 5^th Avenue, Brooklyn NY 11209.

Crossposted on my Medium.