Brunch couldn’t work in the UK: People would be dead.
And yet, it’s a vital ingredient of life in the UAE. Basically – you pay an upfront sum (anywhere between 150 and 2,000 dhs – around 30 to 400 pounds) then eat as much food and drink as much alcohol as you can physically consume in 3 hours. It’s a decadent race; he who reaches obesity first? Wins! Wales’ life expectancy would HALF if brunch was a thing there.
I’ve only attended three of these gluttonous events so far. And here are my griefs and joys:
Brunch 1: Melia Brunch.
This was our first Brunch; our initial “WE’VE JUST ARRIVED IN DUBAI! LET’S GET REALLY FAT!” outing.
For a carnivore? It was difficult. There was pretty much just ONE meat option… and that was burnt beef. OK, some people might not class “MEDIUM” as ashes, but I’d qualify it as HORRENDOUSLY CREMATED… I want the carcass bleeding on my plate, still alive and pleading for it’s life, please. I want to taste its fear! Not chew on a piece of dry carrion.
It wasn’t inedible, less so after getting gradually intoxictated on the Prosecco, which they top up without you even looking. But this was another disappointment with the Melia Brunch – you can either choose to drink spirits or Prosecco. Nothing else. “Pipe down and shut up, you’re getting it on tap ALL afternoon,” you’re probably thinking – and you’re right. Dubai life is going to my head – I need to shut up and drink my fizzy wine.
The desserts almost made up for any injustices of the alcoholic kind… They were beyond perfection: – the sort of sweet paragon only expected when Zac Efron lifts his shirt; Unconditional love poured out of every one of my senses. Hence the brunch fee was probably worth it, just for the small slices of chocolate heaven I poured down my throat.
Brunch 2: Kickers Brunch.
I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed endless CIDER, – but I’ll try: I enjoyed it so much that by 3:30pm I was IN BED. That is the measure of a grand afternoon. Do you know how difficult it is to find CIDER at brunches? You’d think you were asking for cancer-cures and their children’s souls the way the waiters eye you when you ask for a Somersby. But not at Kickers. Immediate game changer.
So you’ve got endless cider, immortal burgers and enough chicken bites to bathe in – plus, thanks to the venue’s nature as a Sports’ Bar? There’s rugby playing on every screen and a DJ playing 80s pop… They’ll even allow you to play pool as you eat.
This is all I have ever wanted from life. It wasn’t facticiously pretentious like some of the others, no pretending to be a classy establishment – while letting in dickheads who think Tolstoy plays for Rubin Kazan and who assume Schrodinger’s Cat is a cocktail. No, Kickers knows it’s inelegant and embraces it! Go to Kickers brunch.
Brunch 3: Candy Pants.
This is the sort of place you would meet Joey Essex. In fact, it’s exactly how I pictured Essex would look (until I went there… and was severely disappointed by the endless greenery and lack of trash) – all velour tablecloths, bad hair and inflatable guitars – Hence, it’s the sort of venue I would usually avoid at all costs (I have a general rule of “If the cast of TOWIE have been there? It should be BURNED.”)
The food? Was OK. This time I could choose Beef OR Lamb. Even better if: There had been chicken or lobster. But there wasn’t. Yes, yes, please write to Amnesty International on my tortured behalf.
I upgraded to the Champagne option, which was an absolute bargain – for 70Dhs extra (about £13) I drowned myself in upwards of 4 bottles of champagne in 3 hours. – And was hence delighted when after food they turned the music up and encouraged us to burn off the millions of calories consumed that afternoon through vigorous dance. I can’t pretend Candypants wasn’t fun: It was. People forget I’m only half-civilised – I’m half-Swansea too.
If you have any Brunch recommendations (especially ones that are cider and meat based? Tell me ALL.)