Dubai

Emirati cooking begins with generosity. A tray of machboos — spiced rice piled high over slow-cooked lamb or prawns — is set in the middle of the table and everyone eats from it together. Alongside it: harees pounded smooth, luqaimat still glossy with date syrup, a bowl of hummus, a small dish of chili sauce, and the essential glass of karak chai, milky and strong.

Nothing here is minimal. A Dubai meal is a long meal, and the point is always the company at the table, not the clock on the wall.

Late afternoon in old Dubai smells of cardamom and grilling meat. Shawarma turns on its skewer at the corner, a tray of freshly-fried luqaimat is dusted with sesame, and a paper cup of karak chai burns your fingers on the walk back through the souk.

The city's newer neighbourhoods keep the same rhythm at a different volume — kabsa and mandi in a bright modern majlis, dates and Arabic coffee at the end of every visit, a bowl of loomi-tart shorbat kept warm on the stove.