It started, as all great plans in Dubai do, with a frantic Google search and a very specific craving. The Chinese Lunar New Year was creeping onto the horizon, and my brain, in its infinite wisdom, had locked onto one singular, non-negotiable desire: Peking duck. Not just any duck – the kind with skin so glassy it shatters, wrapped in a pancake so thin you can practically see the moon through it.
But here’s the thing about this city. You can Google “Asian food” until your algorithm thinks you’ve moved to Shanghai, but you still won’t get the real intel. You need a guide. You need the friend who knows. Luckily, I have a secret weapon: my travel-guru bestie, a girl of Chinese origin who treats the city’s culinary landscape like a personal treasure map. I was literally typing out an invitation to her – something breezy like, “Fancy chasing some dragons and dumplings with me?” – when my phone pinged. It was her, in our group chat, announcing she had booked a table for us all to celebrate at the best Chinese restaurant in town.
Fate? The algorithm listening in? I don’t care. Plans were sorted. Research complete. We were going to MiMi Mei Fair.
And let me tell you, walking into this place feels less like entering a restaurant and more like stepping into a very glamorous, very chic secret. Tucked into the Opera District in Downtown Dubai, this London import (because of course it is) has been the talk of every brunch and dinner party since it swung open its gilded doors last December. It’s the kind of spot that instantly doubles your following if you post from the right angle, yet the vibe inside is far too cool to feel try-hard.
You have options. Do you want the hushed, Regency-core elegance of The Parlour? The moody, clubby energy of The Library? Or do you, like any self-respecting Dubai diner, angle for the terrace, where the Burj Khalifa twinkles above you like a very expensive, very beautiful nightlight? We opted for opulent interiors, settling into a space that feels like a love letter to 1920s Shanghai filtered through a modern maximalist dream. Think antique finishes, Art Deco flourishes, and the kind of low lighting that makes everyone look like a film star.
And then, the main event: the duck.
The apple-wood Peking duck is the reason the room is full. It arrives with quiet confidence, the skin a perfect lacquered mahogany. Our host – a charming member of the team who guided us through the menu as though we were old friends – suggested we try it first with a dab of caviar. Because why not? It’s a collision of textures and salty, smoky richness that feels like pure, unadulterated indulgence. Then comes the ritual we all secretly live for: the flesh, juicy and tender, wrapped in those silky pancakes with a smear of hoisin and a crunch of cucumber. It’s theatre. It’s delicious. It’s the culinary equivalent of a mic drop.
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But the magic of MiMi Mei Fair isn’t just in the food; it’s in the story they’re selling – and, frankly, I’m buying. They’ve spun an entire narrative around Empress MiMi, a fictional globetrotter who collected recipes from forbidden markets and imperial kitchens, from Sichuan to Singapore. It’s a little bit camp, a little bit fabulous, and it gives the whole experience a sense of playful discovery. You’re not just eating sweet-and-sour chicken (though theirs is, admittedly, the Platonic ideal of the dish); you’re biting into a legend.
And with Lunar New Year upon us – the Year of the Fire Horse, no less, bringing decidedly “go get ’em” energy – they’ve turned the dial all the way up. A wishing tree stands at the entrance, a striking installation of rhythm and colour that stops you mid-scroll and actually makes you want to, you know, set an intention. It offers a quiet moment of ritual before the feast begins.
The set menu crafted for the occasion is a masterclass in sharing. It begins with a “Basket of Wealth” filled with delicate dim sum (the prawn and coriander dumplings were essentially little pillows of flavour) and moves through a wok-baked lobster in a broth so good you’ll want to bathe in it. By the time the smoked sea bass arrives, you’re in a state of pure umami bliss. It’s communal, abundant, and perfectly aligned with the spirit of renewal and togetherness that defines the holiday.
Before they roll us out of the door, a word to the wise: don’t skip the Moon Bar. Tucked behind velvet drapes, it’s the kind of celestial cocktail lounge you hope exists but rarely find in Dubai. Intimate and sultry, it serves Asian-inspired cocktails by Bar Manager Jeet Verma that feel like miniature works of art. We sampled the “Mini Moons” flight (because why choose?) and stayed far longer than intended, seduced by the low beats and dim lighting.
So here’s my hot take. Dubai is a city that often feels like a performance. We’re all curating our highlight reels, chasing the next reservation, the next view, the next moment. But every now and then, you find a place that cuts through the noise – somewhere that feels less like a performance and more like a genuine story you get to be part of. MiMi Mei Fair is that place. It’s where you bring the friend who needs a win, the out-of-towners you want to impress without trying too hard, or, in my case, the guide who knew all along exactly where we needed to be.
Gōng xǐ fā cái, darlings. May your year be as perfectly crispy as that duck.
