On the edge

To call The Edge a restaurant with a difference is to cater to a gimmicky nature that the place neither needs to play on nor should.

So let's get it out of the way now: The Edge is a restaurant without a menu. You eat what the chef gives you, within a predefined price range. And then you just go ahead and have the meal of your life.

Here's how it worked. Each dish arrived in front of us with quiet ceremony, and a gentleman, who seemed constantly on the edge of giggles, so delighted was he by prospect of surprising us further, gave us the description.

The food is so perfect, so beautiful and yet so natural, that you can do without the explanation, actually. If there were strange things going on in the plate, that might be an issue. But at The Edge, the ingredients make sense - and yet take you to another place. For a total foodie, the next step would be to dispense with the guide and figure it out for yourself. It's CSI: Dinner.

Here's what I had, as part of the five-course menu at Dh1,200. Don't expect the same thing, just the same quality and concepts.

First up was a duo of salmon, one perfect cube lightly cooked confit-style (that's gently simmered in fat, a great way to keep things juicy), the other house-smoked. A bright pea purée - thick and flavourful, with chunks, not foamy, thankfully - swept alongside, and tangy picked beetroot spiked the whole thing.

Then we plumbed the earthy depths with a rich plate of lentils, seared foie gras (creamy duck liver) and meaty porcini mushrooms. It was like a walk in a forest, smoky and autumnal.

A seared scallop appeared next, bathing in a sweet purée of smoked cauliflower. Don't turn up your nose - this much-abused vegetable would probably be a world favourite if it was treated with a little respect, as The Edge's executive chef, the preternaturally young (just 30 years old) Slovakian Juraj Kalna, does here.

Finally our main, again a dish of two sides: braised beef cheeks versus seared Wagyu rib eye. The beef cheeks, a silky, melting cut of meat were stewed in a rich sauce that was a little too sweet for my taste. The rib eye, cut into a perfect rectangle, was all that steak should be: rare, juicy, fatty and perfectly seasoned to bring out that beefiness. A topping of raw green onion and flaked salt did the trick admirably.

Here's another reason why I probably liked The Edge so much: four savoury courses before the sweet. It's usually the comedown for me - and I have great respect for the terrifyingly precise chemists that sit in that corner of the kitchen called patisserie. Here, I was served something that looked like every other high-end dessert I've ever had - something with lots of chocolate (70 per cent cocoa, of course) layered with an infinite number of other doodads. Except it was delicious. I put this down to the lack of mousse and sponge cake in the layering. Just thick chocolate, crisp biscuit and an intense kick from a layer of passion fruit. And the tight spiral of chocolate on top? So pretty!

I won't deny The Edge is an expensive prospect, and some of you may wonder why I would promote it now. It's the same reason I also care about haute couture: we all need a little flavour in our lives, more especially during tough times. And for serious foodies, The Edge is a trip you can't miss.