Getting things done in Abu Dhabi, UAE

The rains came a couple of weeks ago, and flooded just about any area that could be defined as a street, or the areas next to the streets...and houses... and 2nd floor apartments apparently.

My friend, one of the folk with flooding issues in her 2nd floor abode, mentioned that it had nothing to do with some tsunami style tidal surge. Nor did rivers that had broken their banks send a crushing load of water along the streets turning them into some kind of Porsche and chicken strewn canal.
No, nothing as dramatic. (thankfully)

Read more

Pages: 1 · 2 · 3 · 4

Right, given that the last post was sooo well received (there’s only a hint of sarcasm in that comment, the email was divided between me being bias - both for and against) AND because I dearly want this place to succeed, as becoming a full time tea drinker is becoming more and more a reality, I decided to head back to Jones the Grocer. This time opting for a time that was away from the crazy lunch hour fest that was on during the last visit.

As my mate Line was talking to me again (we had some tense times due to my assertions in previous posts that she is, at heart, a great big liar), and was herself significantly under-whelmed by the coffee in Abu Dhabi, we agreed on a time to grab a beverage (and maybe a cake).

Then Line cancelled.

SO, we arranged a new time - which she managed to not cancel and I picked her up at the standard spot.

Line got in the truckster, said “Hello” then backed up with:

“You DO know where we are going, don’t you?” Smirking as she secured her seat belt.

“That’s how it’s going to be is it?”

“What?” said Line, affecting a look of innocence.

Now to say that we did in fact get lost on the way to Jones would be an over statement. To say that some incorrect turns were taken may be a little closer to the truth. In defence though, I knew where it was, and how to get there - from MY apartment. Not Line’s.

I’d also like to point out at this juncture that while less than perfect directional choices MAY have been made, each resulting street was still familiar, thus creating a more scenic path to our afternoon’s activity.

In only slightly longer time than was originally expected we arrived, and I managed to maintain my 2 from 2 ‘rock-star’ parking record.

For those not in the know, to park like a rock star one must drive to one’s destination, and without having to wait for someone to leave, park immediately out front of said establishment. Thus far, 2 visits, and with a combined walking distance of less than 30 metres from car to front door, I’m strutting to the tune of Stayin’ Alive just thinking about it.

On the inside:

Fair to say that I was a little scathing in the previous post about this great establishment. Not without reason I might add. The solution for those wishing to miss all the havoc (as funny as it was) is to simply go later in the afternoon.

Line and I strolled in to a much quieter café than on the last trip. Strangely though we elected to sit in at the very same table that my hardworking wife and I sat at… perhaps subconsciously drawn to the same table to make sure that all the variables could be accounted for by making the experience as similar as possible.

OR - perhaps it’s just because Line unknowingly suggested we sit at that table, and I couldn’t find a reason not to.

The service (due to lack of customer numbers I suspect) was great. Fast, efficient, friendly (not that they weren’t friendly before… they just lacked the flustered ‘chasing tail’ look this time).

The coffee however was superb. Extraordinarily good. So were the cakes that arrived at just the right time.

I decided to throw caution to the wind and order what has been even more elusive than a latte here in this pile o’ sand.

A macchiato.

To refresh your memories as to how wrong a coffee shop can get a macchiato here - feel free to go to the contents page (over there in the categories list) and select ‘Idioms’ from the section marked ‘The coffee project’ - or don‘t, it‘s your dime…

…I ordered then distractedly went on with the conversation, I think we had moved on to the topic of cheese, or Norwegian moonshine, while waiting for my macchiato.

It arrived, again in good time.

I rarely say this about coffee anywhere BUT - it was perfect, well nearly - but any criticism that I could level would only be appreciated by the true geeks among you (for those really interested in the level of my coffee/macchiato affliction who may have similar interests themselves, I’m simply going to say ‘foam’ and ‘a weeny bit too much’). For those who have lives and more interesting things to consider like, well, ANYTHING else, please strike the information in parenthesis from the record.

With me savouring the first real macchiato I have had in a long time, Line spied bottles of water in the large display cabinet behind me, and was immediately up and on her way over to inspect. Turns out that it’s Norwegian water - (Line is from Norway) .

I began to wax lyrical about the connection to her homeland via the fluid in bottles stacked 4 deep on a shelf in an Abu Dhabi coffee shop, and how nice it must be etc.

She indulged me as I banged on about distance, and hands of her kin folk etc.

Once she figured I had got it out of my system, she said,

“Yes, very nice. It’s actually made by hill billies you know”.

Then went on in a manner that I took to mean that it’s a good thing they do, because if the folk living in the region this stuff was coming from weren’t bottling water, they wouldn’t have much else to do, (bar chowing down on whale of course).

Product of a hillbilly or not, she still grabbed 2 large bottles of the stuff to take with her after we had done our lap of the shelves…

What I haven’t mentioned thus far is that JtG ain’t just a coffee/breaky/lunch spot. It sells all manner of stuff - homemade ice-cream, nougat, coffee machines, preserves, and a whole bunch of other gear, worth a visit just for that.

What is also worth visiting is the cheese room.

Yes.

ROOM.

Line and I went and inspected the room o’ cheese during our walk of the perimeter, and were met inside it’s refrigerated wonderment by someone I am just going to have to call ‘The Cheese Guy‘. This guardian of the cheese safe proceeded to make a couple of jokes about cheese, asked us where we were from and was just generally funny - a nice change to the stern/forced politeness of other venues - not that any other venues have a cheese room of course, but maybe it was the spores from the blue cheese that helped make him so happy. Maybe we looked like 6 foot Wookies and he was passing the time in order to stop himself from freaking out… whatever the case, it was good, and the selection is ace.

Nothing else to say, other than I hope that Jones the Grocer Abu Dhabi is able to rock that sort of service, or at least similar during the busy times.

The quality of the product though is 1st class.

Give it a try, and order a macchiato - it’s great.

To say that there has been an air of anticipation regarding the opening of this fantastic shop would be an understatement. The fact that it is an Australian franchise has made me (prior to actually going) more than a little biased.

This is also a franchise that is moving ahead it seems - a JtG opened in Chadstone (the biggest shopping centre and the fashion/style capital of Australia if you believe the hype) just before we left to come to the great desert island that is Abu Dhabi.

Apart from all the hyperbole, I harboured a desire for a café that was run by people with some kind of emotional investment in the project.

People who wished to use milk in their coffee steamer rather than coffee mate.

In short: People who gave a crap about what they were doing.

I’ve been now. The review is mixed.

I was to meet my most excellent wife at the emporium de Jones. She was in meetings that would enable her to be there at around one, while I, being a blogger of leisure, decided to arrive and feel the place out at 12.30 with a view to sneaking a cup of coffee before the main lunch event.

I’m glad I did, the place was PACKED - a good sign.

The seating gods were smiling on me it seems, for as I walked tentatively into the crowded room, 2 people kindly got up from a table, 2 feet from where I was standing with a slightly forlorn look on my face. I moved liked a large cat pouncing on doona covered foot, and sat even as the staff were still clearing the detritus from the previous customers. I sat while smiling a latte order at the same time.

The hot bevvy arrived pretty quickly, and ladies and gentlefolk, we have a new contender in the race for best coffee in AD. Jones, simply by virtue that they appear to be using good beans and, controversially, MILK instead of coffee helper in the steamer pot, are WAAAAAY ahead of the coffee game here in AD.

Way ahead. WAAAAAAAY ahead.

So the rest of Abu Dhabi’s coffee shops are now on notice it would seem; either adopt the ‘rocket science’ of using real-plain-ordinary-milk in your lattes or Jones will have to buy up the entire building they are currently situated in simply to accommodate the customers who I suspect will soon be lining out the door for coffee. (those late to the game may like at this point to select "the coffee project - mission impossible?" in this blog's category list over there on the right for an insight as to how bad it can be here in AD)

What they won’t be lining out the door for is the service which, unfortunately, is abysmal.

Okay, abysmal may be a bit harsh. I guess it was up to Abu Dhabi standards if you overlay a “still working the systems out” filter. Even so, the lack of waiter ability was epic.

Food orders not being taken. Or when taken, would come out in rocket fast time, ferried by bus-staff that had no concept of table numbering systems, if indeed there was one in place… while the person I had witnessed actually take the original order sheepishly slinked away to the back of the store - for reasons I don’t understand - there’s no tables back there. OR in the case of work colleagues of "she who arrived just as I had finished my coffee and while I was fending people off from stealing her chair" ,whose food was not hot enough. Their belief was that the wait staff simply overlooked the delivery aspect of their job... so it sat in the pass area, cooling it's heels.

Karma was a little more pleased about the coffee thing than I am comfortable with (she doesn't drink coffee), perhaps she hopes this will end my incessant whining about a lack of options when it comes to latte's. I commented on the coffee greatness to Karma as she sat, while delicious looking food was being paraded about a room full of people, many of whom (I suspect) willing each unclaimed dish to be theirs - so they’d call the waiter over, have the food placed in front of them, then complain that it wasn’t what they had ordered.

I think I know the problem. It’s been bugging me for the entire duration of my residence here in Abu Dhabi.

No staff here have any ‘bustle’.

Perhaps because they have been working in an environment that has a policy of… “If it gets too busy, more staff will be put on” as a result there’s not many professional hospitality staff at a small restaurant/café/franchise level.

There’s just no bustle.

Perhaps it’s because the staff are not paid enough to have any emotional investment, nor do they seem to have much interest in what they do.

No Bustle.

It came to me on a recent trip to Vienna (I’ll write more about it in the travel blog) while having breakfast at our favourite coffee place (world class coffee, I could go on, but I won’t). We went to this place 4 of the 6 mornings we were in Austria, and were served by the same person, who was more than good at her work. The shop she worked out of had all its seating outside, on the road side of a wide footpath, with busy city foot traffic between where the food was produced, to where it would be masticated.

We watched her with no small amount of awe, as she, working the tables on her own, effectively looked after 40 covers. Order/food/ billing.

On her own.

She had bustle.

People noticed it too. I don’t know what a waiter gets paid by the hour in Vienna, but ours was raking it in in tips. Which she accepted with thanks, while still maintaining her unhurried appearance.

Fast forward to yesterday at Jones. Maybe 90 covers. 5 floor staff. 2 floor managers. Pandemonium.

My opinion? (coming from my extraordinarily high horse fuelled by 10 years in the hospitality trade)

• Pay more and get professional staff, not just dip into the cheap labour market and hope that no one will notice. Even if it’s only for the busy period.
• Forbid staff from saying “Mamsir” for any reason whatsoever. No matter how hard the smile behind it, the passionless term automatically makes people associate the place with every other ‘coffee’ place on the island, instead of taking the opportunity to set itself apart.
• If you’re going to give staff electronic order pads, make absolutely sure they can use them. If someone gets it wrong 2 tables and 3 orders in a row, find out why and resolve the problem.
• Sort ‘who ordered what’ issues by making the staff member responsible for all aspects from order to delivery of food. Get the bussies to clear/clean and set.

I really like this place - our food was delicious. Truly good. Even if we did lose our first order to a table that decided to claim the apparently unallocated food as their own. A situation that would have been repeated with the second round, if one of the floor managers hadn’t all but rugby tackled the waiter before she delivered our food to a group of people at another table who had been waiting so long that they resembled baby birds in a nest - mouths open awaiting the mother-bird-waiter to stuff anything into their mouths.

The problems will be sorted out in time I hope, if they don’t, while it may continue to have great food, it will still have the stink of “franchise comes to AD then adopts a half-done attitude” about it.

Interestingly, for me at least - while it has been suggested that Jones the Grocer AD has Wi-Fi as part of the customer experience, and while the mighty Eeepc (more on this little device later) had a signal from a source called ‘Jones the Grocer’ that was so strong that it would have been rude not to avail myself of, upon asking for the password, the helper went away for 5 minutes only to return to say that Wi-Fi wasn’t working… I hope they weren’t hinting at anything, I’m pretty sure I didn’t offend anyone, I wasn’t wearing ANY of my geek t-shirts that some may find offensive (I own an excellent one with Darth Vader suggesting something about lack of faith) AND I didn’t complain once… allowing them to play the "Still sorting the bugs out" card, thus sparing me from bending the manager's ear.

I hope the staff problems gets sorted, and that the magic Wi-Fi machine finds it's password changes, I have visions of occasional mornings with good coffee, and getting some blogging done.

I’m sure it will.

Unless on the off chance someone at Jones sees this entry and takes offence…

If offence is taken, and my considerable girth is no longer welcome, then I’ll have to continue bitching about the lack of coffee in Abu Dhabi, until I can champion a (yet to be discovered) café who gets it 100% right.

Rather than almost.

This happened to me, I own the experience, it has become part of my very being (as all dramatic experiences have a tendency to do). It was months ago, but the memory still lingers and sometimes I wake in the wee small hours, screaming... screaming ...

..oh the horror.

For those who might be late to the party may I suggest you head on over to the contents page and scan through the coffee adventures to date.

For long-time (and patient) readers, this is the post I have been threatening to write since the outset of the quest for the best cup in Abu Dhabi.

It has taken this long to get down, because I was blocking alot of the memory - apparently this happens after severe trauma, but the therapist says I am ready now.

I have decided NOT to directly name the cafe in question (for reasons that will be come obvious) but there are enough posts already that rank this place as last. It is denoted at the bottom of the list as being called CDR. It's a cafe in a Mall here in Abu Dhabi. Yup. In an Abu Dhabi Mall. Locals will work out this slightly cryptic reference.

Those NOT from Abu Dhabi: Just know that this place exists - and if you ever find yourself here, email me - I'll tell you. I promise. It is my duty.

CDR was not on my list for coffee shops to throw myself at, but I found myself in this particular Abu Dhabi Mall (hmmmm - too obvious?) waiting for my wife to get done with a work meeting and stride purposefully along the shiny (very slippery when wet) tiles and into the fabulously appointed food court for our lunch date.

A brief aside:
One of the things I find hysterical - primarily due to my not falling victim to it - is that all the floor tiles in just about any commercial space, if made wet, acquire the grippy texture of an ice skating rink. I guess due to there being no legal mechanism here to sue anyone should things go aggressively horizontal.

That means the building's designer/owner/dude-who-has-an-opinion-about-floor-coverings can literally choose whatever the hell they like for their floor tiling needs, he or she only need concern themselves with colour.

"I want 3,000 square metres of this blue tile"
"Ummm...ookay... these are wall tiles though...so..."
"I don't care - I want them"
"But they are reeeally slippery when wet... you don't want an ice-rink in your shopping mall do you?...hah ha ha.."
"........"
"........"
"I don't understand the question. Deliver the tiles I ordered."

Super slippery - even more fun when the same tiles are used OUTSIDE. Yup. Smooth, unsealed, slick as glass tiles. Thankfully it doesn't rain here alot. When it does though...

Anyway.. back to the point.
The meeting was running late, so I figured as I was about to undertake my first coffee review at The One after lunch, I'd do a test run with a coffee shop in the Abu Dhabi Mall (!) where my bride and I were to meet.

Fate led me to CDR.

I'd walked past this particular cafe alot and while it was never SUPER busy, it seemed to do a fairly brisk trade.

In short, it appeared that it was a pretty safe bet. It also had the bonus aspect of being 7 feet away from where I was when the text message came through informing me of the new proposed time for the lunch date.

I strode in past the smokers grimacing through wisps of exhaled cigarette smoke and sat down, feeling a little too self important, but nonetheless excited about the clandestine aspect of my "reviewing project".
I envisaged the fear my blindingly successful blog would strike upon cafe owners island wide. How all would worship me and DESPAIR...

...yes, well, abudhabilist.com hasn't had THAT much of an impact on the cafe community thus far. It's a slow burner this blog- but when it flares - THEN the coffee landscape will change oh yes my pretties.. yeeessssssss... precioooousss... *cough* ummm...

Here....be distracted by another ADist aside:

Smoking is prohibited in most malls here in Abu Dhabi, or at least in the walkway and main areas of the mall, BUT cafes all have a smoking section. Yes. A smoking section. Usually these sections adjoin the slippery goodness of the walkways - but provided the table is within the boundary of the cafe, it's perfectly within the rules.

Frankly, as was mentioned in an email that was getting around the place earlier this week: Having a smoking section in an public space is as useful as having a urinating section in a public pool.

Aaaand we're back:
I ordered a latte, doing my best to keep my identity a secret and settled in to trying out various seating positions and practising being nonchalant. I had even brought a book along to read, thus concealing the real reason a large bald westerner might sail in and order a latte.

I tried:

The 'Lounger'- a kind of side saddle position, that one hopes offers a look of carefree sophistication. High degree of difficulty - can come off looking manufactured and kind of tool-ish.

The 'Lounger + leg cross' - as above with an added leg cross. Result? I suspect I looked like a poorly shaped man-pretzel.

The 'meet the parents' - seated bolt upright, rear end as far back into the seat as you can, hands (book optional) clasped in lap. Good for core strength, makes you stick out in a crowd like dogs.. umm.. you know.

The 'Slouch' - As it sounds, but hard to achieve in cafe bucket style chairs, arms don't have anywhere to naturally fall, hard to reach cup, think I looked like I had passed out given the concerned looks of table near by.

I settled on a partial 'Lounger with leg cross', with a weight distribution that allowed reasonable access to the coffee table.

The cup of stuff was placed in front of me, and the waiter scampered off.

I put the cup to my lips and sipped, but the beverage was SO hot I simply couldn't get any in my mouth. My concern though was rising. Not at the temperature (although that ain't a great start) but there was an aroma of something I had vowed never to suffer again; years ago a 5 day camping trip ended in a shouting match with the guy who had recommended the stuff as an easy to carry coffee substitute.

Coffee Mate.

The stink of it was strong.

I went back to my book, but every paragraph or so I looked from page to cup, for what reason I don't know specifically... I just had the feeling that whatever was in that cup needed an eye kept on it.

A suitable amount of time went by, so I tried again.

It was at this point I should have got up and left. Got away from the thing.

Why?

The previously lead-smelter hot fluid had developed a skin on it. Not a slight milk separation that can sometimes happen with full or double cream milk, oh no, this was a good honest skin.

A baked-rice-pudding style skin (sans lumps).

A holiday-camp-too-much-gravy-helper-not-enough-water style skin

A skin that was akin in appearance to lightly grilled processed cheese slice on toast.

A skin that actually attached so effectively to the insides of the cup it created a seal that took a significant swirling action AND help from a spoon to detach.

I should have left.. I should have..

Taking my reviewing gig way too seriously, I again raised the cup to my lips and, while it was STILL hot, it had cooled enough so that I might actually taste what was festering away in there.

One sip confirmed my fear - coffee helper had been used.

It was at this point that the aforementioned skin made its presence known again by attaching itself to my bottom lip, so that when I pulled the cup away a blisteringly hot circular flap moved from it's birthplace in the cup and attached itself with the tenacity of wallpaper to my stubbly chin.

The cup was noisily placed back on the table, followed by a low moaning sound (that I suspect was coming from me), while on reflex I slapped at my chin which effectively dispersed what was under my lip to my shirt, and pants, and part of the chair. Thankfully my frantic actions did not send any glutinous shrapnel toward the couple sitting at the next table over, who were by now staring and offering their napkins.

Interestingly the waiters at that moment found a whole lot of important stuff to do in the kitchen area, so I resorted to stealing the napkins from the surrounding tables along with those offered by my neighbours.

I left my cup and out of habit staggered, red chinned and bewildered, to the cash register where I paid and then left while barely hearing the forced cheerful tone as the waiter called after me:

"Thankyousirpleasecomeagain".

My wife found me sitting in the food court amongst a whole hotchpotch of nationalities - all eating McDonalds and KFC - with a stunned look on my face as I gently stroked my still slightly stinging chin.

"Sorry about the delay", she said. "Got some times messed up. You looking forward to your big 'coffee expose' this afternoon? Hey, what have you done to your chin?"

****

I'm actually grateful that I went to CDR first off - I mean who could ask for a better baseline for a study?

Let this blog stand as testimony, and bow our heads for a moment to remember those that gave up coffee as a result of this establishment, and hope that one day they will come back to the caffeine fold...

Let it also remind cafe owners that coffee is NOT rocket science - whoever opens a cafe here that employs really good baristas is going to make a KILLING!

Makes the little more sense of the list below..

• ADNOC - ('big cups crisis' over)
• Zyara,
  Cafe De La Paix "Marina Mall",
  Idioms
• The One
• Le Brioche "Marina Mall"
• Starbucks
• Anything else, including but not limited to, licking tarmac
• CDR - Worst coffee ever - will post at a later date.

Look I know it has taken me a while to get the final installment in but I've been doing a bit of writing/commenting on other sites, and I think that has been dicking with my natural daily word limit.

Well... that.. and my wonderful spouse insisting that we go to Cyprus for a break AND then insisting that I organise the accommodation for our forthcoming Europe extravaganza has meant that for the first time in a long while I was forced into doing something that approximated work.

Onward:

I picked up the phone to my buddy Line who, although having demonstrated her propensity to LIE (there.. I said it again) by misleading me into thinking she knew the location of Zyara (see posts Listed in "The Coffee Project") I had decided to give the opportunity to clear her good name.

"Are you SURE you know where Idioms is" I enquired

"Of course I know where Idioms is" replied Line - a little huffily.

"Yes.. but you said that about Zyara and..."

"Yes - but we got there didn't we?"

This wasn't going well.

"Yeeees" I said, torn between the concepts of throwing water or fuel at a smouldering fire; "But that was because I found it" (fuel concept won)

"You did NOT!" - a not entirely unfair assertion

"Well, I did - my blog says so - so it must be true" I offered, utilising the weak, but often utilised 'Popular belief' card.

"Look, do you want a coffee partner or not?" I suspect that this was asked through clenched teeth.

"Are you SURE you know where Idioms is?" (couldn't help myself).

"YES I KNOW WHERE IDIOMS IS" she barked.

"Okay, Okay.. I'll pick you up in 20 minutes...sheesh"

I hung up, grinning, and jumped into the Volksy and piloted it to the bus stop where Line was waiting.

She got in and gave me the 'One word about Zyara and I'll poke you in the eye' look, so I immediately enquired as to whether or not we would make it there by closing time - given that she was directing.

Some more banter followed that indicated that this time Line did indeed know the way, as it was around the corner from a nail boutique that she had been to.

My interest in nail technology was met with a sigh and an explanation that the nails in question were those on the ends of her fingers and that it wasn't some emporium of steel spikes.

To be truthful I was relieved - although I had briefly hoped that there was indeed a place. A place that stocked all manner of hammers and tacks and white gold door jam tacks and Louis Vuitton tool belts and...and - oooh the possibilities.

Then it occurred to me that if there was such a shop there would be a high probability that just around the corner would be a guy offering to take you to his friend's shop where you could buy exactly the same stuff for a 10th of the price. The guy would grab me by the elbow as he lead me into an apartment building while announcing - "Comes from same factory - best price".

I'd have to go and look - only to walk out 15 minutes later with gold painted roofing nails in one hand, a Rulex hammer in the other and a Lois Vutton nail bag velcro-ed to my waist.

errr...

The coffee review...?

Yes, I was getting to that.

We found the the place in relatively short order - partly because of Line's vague directions but mostly because of my expert driving, nonetheless we parked and wandered toward what I hoped to be the saving grace of the Abu Dhabi Week top 5.

AD Week describes this place as "Quite hip - especially for light bites and early evening eats" and I tend to agree. We arrived in the early afternoon, and the place is fine BUT it's colour scheme and decor do lend itself to a more night time venue.

Let's face it though: I'd drink coffee in a tin shed painted in yellow and turquoise stripes if there was a guarantee that the brew was going to be good.

Again we ordered food (this seems to only happen when I drag coffee conspirators along on my quests).

I had a chicken ceasar, which was fine - Line had a club sandwich, also fine.

I know.. I know...the coffee.

I ordered a latte. It arrived. I drank it.

While I don't remember being too enthusiastic about it - it was good enough by AD standards, but angels didn't sing when I pressed the cup to my lips... nor did cherubs whisk away my sugar wrapper. The conversation on the other hand WAS good.

So I ordered another - this time my absolute coffee preference - a macchiato.

For those who are unaware (this includes whoever made the beverage that ultimately arrived) a macchiato is simply a shot of espresso with a stain of milk in it (often served in a clear glass, but overall this is unimportant). SOMETIMES a half teaspoon of milk foam might be added.

What a macchiato is NOT is a mini latte/cappuccino hybrid with butterscotch sauce drizzled on it.

NOT.

"NOT" I say again.

It was my own fault.. I had let progressive and engaging discussion get in the way of the project, I had added another variable that was never considered in the planning stage.

I drank it though, and restrained myself from boring poor Line (who at this stage was laughing at the face I was pulling) with the vagaries of coffee making.

It was quite tasty in a dessert kinda way - but it wasn't a macchiato.

Not even close.
Not even in the macchiato ballpark.
Not even in the town that the macchiato ballpark might be situated in.
Not even sitting in the boarding lounge of an airline that might be flying over an ocean to a town NEAR the macchiato ballpark.

To wrap this long and winding coffee journey up:

The latte was okay. The top end of okay, bit with a side order of "Meh."

Macchiato? Fail.

Thus concluding the critique of Abu Dhabi Week's Five best coffee shops.

But it's not over for the search.

My involvement with an online forum here AND as a result of a stack of suggestions sent in by readers of this rambling beast that is abudhabilist.com has meant I have a heap of coffee shops to sneak in to, and I will... after I get some other more pressing additions added to the blog.

One of these pressing additions includes the reveal of the worst coffee I have EVER put in my mouth - not sure I can name it outright for fear of retribution - but I can describe the coffee... or coffee named substance.

Stay tuned.

Final result of the top 5 coffee shops as listed by Abu Dhabi Week:

• ADNOC - ('big cups crisis' over)
• Zyara,
  Cafe De La Paix "Marina Mall",
  Idioms
• The One
• Le Brioche "Marina Mall"
• Starbucks
• Anything else, including but not limited to, licking tarmac
• CDR - Worst coffee ever - will post at a later date.