With so many supper clubs opening, Eye Heart Rabbit is the one to watch.
There are two types of Dubai supper clubs. The first is very early days-casual. Someone went to a friend’s house for dinner. A friend armed with an Ottolenghi book and an above-average interest in cooking. Sated, visitors wipe a napkin across their mouths, proclaiming “Ah! You should start a supper club!”. Praise follows. Some workshopping. An Instagram account is set up. The idea takes root, and months later, I find myself sitting at some stranger’s table, about AED 300 down, eating their misfired ambitions.
The second supper club is more mature, with serious talent at the helm. Hosts equipped with a restaurant-adjacent cooking ability and a honed appreciation for flow, seasonality – or seasoning, period. They dimensionalise flavour, then swaddle it in story-telling.
My experience of this vaulted second circle is limited to two supper clubs to date. One is the Nicaraguan supper club, Girl and the Goose, by Gabriela Chamorro, whose supper club is an eye-widening tutorial to a cuisine mostly unknown to me. She’s good, and it’s worth it.
The second supper club effortlessly walks a tightrope of restaurant-calibre dining inside a pacifying, personal space. Say hello to Eye Heart Rabbit.
Jesse Blake is the man behind Eye Heart Rabbit’s menu. The chef’s personality exudes throughout with a compelling through line from his days at the Michelin Green starred, FACT Award-winning Lowe to Eye Heart Rabbit. A Gladweillian 10,000 hours unfold across nine courses. Eye Heart Rabbit’s menu brings disparate cuisines together across the menu and within courses. It sees convention and challenges it through a contemporary lens.
Contrasting morsels of honey melon lawned with smooth feta are spiked with woody, brightening zaatar. A duck musakhan roll lyses with spiced, plump shredded duck dredged through a mouth-puckering sour walnut ketchup sharpened by pomegranates. The chilled soup with a rubble of Persian green tomato and cucumber shirazi is a palate-refreshing salad and deliciously answers the question: but, what if a gazpacho was a stew?
Eye Heart Rabbit maintains the laissez-faire levity of an at-home, cosy dining experience with the excellence of good restaurant cooking – a path that some attempt, but few deliver. Both hands accept a clean, vegetal broth of wilted dandelions laced with smoked yoghurt as we learn that “Eye Heart Rabbit” is an ode to Katie, Jesse’s wife, as it bears her family nickname, “Rabbit”. Eye Heart Rabbit is not contrived; it’s a home with a heart. It’s personal.
The stand-out dinner highlight arrives with a duo of manakish – all puffed and squidgy like a good duvet – glistening with lardaceous chicken fat and confit garlic, softened to sweetness. A sharing dish that one does not want to share. Our manakish is paired with a smoked aubergine and handpicked crab dip. Anyone whose eaten at Lowe will recognise these disciples. A second round of oohs comes from a brilliant lamb neck fatteh rich with masala chickpeas, toum yoghurt and jewelled with nuts and tart barberries.
We end with a creamed brown butter rice pudding with hibiscus and Omani honeycomb. The most accomplished version of a rice pudding I have yet to enjoy. Hi, my name is Liam, and I don’t like rice pudding. I am alone in that view as everyone quietly piles in, rightly praising the contrast of texture between crunchy Omani honeycomb (the best bit, IMHO) and an almost malty, sweet rice pudding.
We chat. We hug. We leave, but I talk to anyone about Eye Heart Rabbit, whether they want to listen or not. Who should come? Lowe fans. Supper club cynics and enthusiasts alike. I will return. Save me a seat.
GO: Follow @eyeheartrabbit on Instagram for more information.
