This was a bit sporadic; we walked past and stared at the menu outside on the wall. “Hmm, not sure,” I frowned. Not because I didn’t know — rather because, having just returned from the US, I felt like I’d caught the restaurant plague. I couldn’t make any clear or concise decisions in that moment about whether a restaurant was good or not. I was tired of American food and concepts. The USA really does affect me in that respect. I walked off to look for somewhere else, then turned back, telling myself to stop being so ridiculous. I entered the restaurant…
The kitchen looked smart — clean, clear, minimal, controlled. All good signs. For your information, this is the only one‑star Michelin restaurant in this area offering an à la carte menu; the rest are trapped and held prisoner by their tasting menus, trying to lock you into them. You have no choice but to be force‑fed five courses minimum. You are the duck and they want your foie gras! This is what I try to avoid. I don’t want that — so why should I go? You already pushed me out.
Omar Dhiab has a menu I wish everyone would adopt: three starters, three mains, cheese, and two desserts. If you prefer a tasting session, you can — it’s on the opposite page. They let you, the guest, decide. I’m bored of chefs telling us what to do. I turn away from many restaurants these days the moment I see no sign of à la carte. That said, it works the other way too: tasting menus suit certain chefs, where à la carte simply doesn’t. Tricky, isn’t it? The problem begins when everyone thinks they can execute a tasting menu well — and that’s all they offer. The truth is, not everyone can, but they do it anyway for a whole range of reasons.
With a focus on quality over quantity, chef could nail the menu. Precision flowed from start to finish. The marinated mackerel with its apricot condiment was well‑proportioned, featuring a strong yet minimalist presentation — perfect eating. The product and preparation (being raw) showed the fish at its maximum potential. The dish had clearly been thought through but not overplayed. It had common sense. A little texture on the plate, combined with basil leaves — without them, it wouldn’t tell the same story. The balance here is spot on.
The lobster was served slightly raw in the centre, perfectly prepared — à la Dhiab. From Brittany. Do I really need to say more? It shows its true self; nobody has interfered or overcomplicated it. You can taste as nature intended. And you know what I appreciate most? The portion size. It’s just right. The restaurant has unknowingly tapped into how I like to eat. This is me on a plate, as a diner.
The dessert chocolate was by Nicolas Berger, delicately spiced with cayenne pepper. It arrived in two parts. A sophisticated chocolate — simplicity once again reigning, letting the ingredient speak for itself. We don’t need endless components in a dessert; what’s here is more than enough, and it proves the point.
As I come to the end of my story, there is one negative I must mention, and I do not want to be mean. Unfortunately, personal hygiene amongst the staff had fallen by the wayside. An incredibly strong stench of body odour passed my way during the entire dinner. You can laugh all you want when you read this, or gasp — whatever. But believe me, it’s not nice (I was moments away from heaving, having to hold my breath). My senses were tampered with, especially the sense of smell, when presented with these wonderful ingredients. The odour lingered into the food. Very unpleasant. Guys, use some deodorant — I can understand it’s busy and you are sweating, but destroying the dining room for all of us is not an option. I guess it’s time for me to stop talking now.
