The Italian job: La Moda

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, they say. Well, substitute Dubai for Rome and Italians for Romans and you'd still be on the right track.

A friend of mine recently waved farewell to Dubai's sandy shores and we decided to have her last supper at La Moda, the Italian restaurant at the Radisson Blu Hotel in Deira promising a view over the Creek. Marketing speech (even the best table didn't provide much of a view) and the early- setting sun aside, at least the cooler evenings mean you can enjoy a long leisurely dinner on the deck.

We took it as a good sign when a large Italian celebratory delegation took up the tables next to ours, and we availed ourselves of their suggestions.

Thus we started with carpaccio — wafer thin, offset with shaved green apple and with the fragrant Italian cheese cubes made for an interesting mix. A small mountain — stylishly decorated on a smart, square white plate — it's enough to beat the hunger pangs into submission.

As if to showcase the diversity Italy has to offer, my stylish dish contrasted favourably with my partner's rather more rustic bruschetta — thick slabs of bread with chunky porcini mushrooms, smothered with provolone cheese and served on a thicker round, patterned plate. At this stage, a staple of the meal was introduced — truffle oil, sprinkled generously over the bread (and other dishes — not equally successfully, however).

Appetising

After a short break, the pastas were introduced. As a course, this would prove to be the least impressive. Carnaroli risotto with port braised duck and black truffle juice sounded a lot more appetising than the almost purply-brown mush we were served. A rice enthusiast, my friend looked past the colour and found it quite enjoyable, although it was too chewy for me.

The duck was amazing, though. Pumpkin ravioli has become pretty much a standard dish, not easy to stuff up (unless the edges are still a bit tough, as was the case) and in the same breath also not easy to jazz up (unless lying in a creamed pea sauce and drenched in creamy salmon, as was the case).

Next up, we were served a tenderloin steak, perfectly medium-rare and not at all shy to share its juices with the sauteed baby potatoes. Which must have made the potatoes feel better at least, seeing how they were largely ignored (the Italians made us promise to leave space for dessert). With it, came the (partial) highlight of the evening, a true tour de force — Ossobuco alla milanese, or us regular folk: braised veal shanks.

Slow cooked, the meat separated at the merest touch. Swimming in a thick tomato pulp, the meat retained its almost wild flavour while blending with the earthiness of the herb-infused tomato. Perfect. Until the distinct taste of truffle oil (in the risotto) powered through the veal's gentler flavours. Apart from drawing the attention away from what should have been the centrepiece, the whole meal suddenly felt a whole richer, which isn't always a good thing.

Not that that stopped us from having dessert, of course — a promise is a promise, after all. And we weren't disappointed by either suggestions: panna cotta (surprisingly neither too rich or tart) and a smooth dark chocolate.

On the whole, hit and miss. More hit than miss, though.