When I cook Christmas dinner in Dubai, I make it “proper British” — Turkey, trimmings and a bathtub of gravy. However, there’s usually one ingredient missing: Brussels sprouts. It’s not because I don’t like them — since taking responsibility for cooking them myself, I’m firmly on the “love them” side of the <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/lifestyle/food/2022/04/23/coriander-marmite-liquorice-how-culinary-powers-are-reinventing-divisive-dishes/" target="_blank">Marmite-style divide</a>. It’s the price I can’t quite stomach. I refuse to pay Dh30 (about £6.60 at today’s rates, and six times more than they should cost) for a thimble-sized bag at the few supermarkets that stock them. This year, while my friends and relatives risked bankruptcy at the mere thought of <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/world/2022/08/29/a-quarter-of-uk-parents-with-school-age-children-do-not-plan-to-use-heating-this-winter/" target="_blank">turning up the thermostat back home</a>, a splurge was especially out of the question. So, in chivalry and solidarity, I didn’t bother. However, when a little birdie told me about one unassuming Jumeirah Lakes Towers restaurant serving them year-round, I cancelled all plans and made a reservation. And, with years worth of sprouts to make up for, I was ready for Not Only Fish. Blink and you’ll miss the entrance, which is a sliver of a doorway hiding in the hustle and bustle of Almas Tower. It’s on the ground floor of the 68-storey office block, making it a popular post-work hangout. However, the relaxed interior with its central bar and cosy tables is welcome to all, while the outdoor terrace is a must in the cooler season. During the day, vast, triple-height windows bathe the sophisticated space in light illuminating its bounty of greenery — it’s buzzing with a business lunch crowd, understandably. At night, the soft lighting is elegant, the music gently nudges up a notch and office workers trickle in after clocking off time. The clue is in the name — while seafood is everywhere, carnivores, vegans and all those in between will be pleased to find it’s not only fish. It’s supposed to be pan-Asian, but pan-Earth is probably more fitting. Yes, there’s sushi, pad Thai, ramen and kushiyaki. However, the menu is a round-the-world trip with pit stops in Mexico via tacos, New York with its beloved pastrami (OK, I know it hails from Europe), France via duck breast, Texas and its braised brisket and Christmas in the UK in the shape of the aforementioned sprouts. And why not in this city of hodgepodge histories and upbringings, with different nationalities and diverse palates at the dinner table? With a kitchen this good, it works. It certainly makes lunch with colleagues easier — if the boss thinks a “balanced diet” means a meat skewer in each hand, you can relax with a poke bowl. Our waiter, John, is chatty and engaging, with a warm smile and when he asks how your day is going, he genuinely means it. My wife and I put our faith in him as he fires out recommendations and within seconds he rushes off to the kitchen. “Just one thing,” he turns around and beams, “you guys are British, right?” Before we know it, here’s Johnny, back with a wild grin and a burgeoning bowl of sprouts. “You guys will love these,” he nods. Oh, boy, is he right. Not only am I planning on breaking all rules and starting every meal with sprouts now, the recipe itself is anything but textbook. They’re not boiled, mushy and zapped of all life like in my childhood; they’re crunchy, caramelised and finished with crispy onions and fresh spring onions, nuts and a sticky glaze. It's like a gourmet bag of cheese and onion crisps, only it counts as two of my five a day. For the uninitiated, sprouts have a bad rap in the UK, thanks to traumatic childhood memories for many. They’re typically only served for Christmas lunch, shortly after grandparents had finished torturing them and before mums forced them down us under whispered hisses of: “Eat your vegetables, grandma’s been up boiling them since 5am for you.” However, recently, and more specifically thanks to heroes such as Not Only Fish and others, they’ve enjoyed the sort of <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/lifestyle/food/2022/04/23/coriander-marmite-liquorice-how-culinary-powers-are-reinventing-divisive-dishes/" target="_blank">culinary makeover</a> they always needed, a recipe reinvention for the modern diner (just don’t tell my gran). But it’s not all about sprouts here. Soon, John’s excellent recommendations arrive including a mixed sashimi platter of octopus (cooked), sea bream, salmon and tuna; spicy dragon roll; and pastrami on roti, which is actually delightfully crumbly puff pastry. The chicken and octopus kushiyaki skewers (separate skewers, I should add) are up there with the best in the city; the duck breast salad could give <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/lifestyle/food/2022/09/03/mayabay-dubai-review-swanky-fusion-spot-brings-thailand-to-turtle-lagoon/" target="_blank">MayaBay’s a run for its money</a>; and the pad Thai whisks me back to the backstreets of Bangkok. For vegetarians, the spicy miso-glazed aubergine is the closest thing you’ll find to the ubiquitous black cod, too. There’s no room for dessert but, even without John’s firm insistence, I’ll undoubtedly be back to pick up from where I left off. In the words of my wife: “Why did we only order one bowl of sprouts when we should’ve had three?” It’s hard to fault the logic. Sushi ranges from Dh40 to Dh120; starters and salads range from Dh30 to Dh90; and mains range from Dh85 to Dh170. Not Only Fish is open Monday to Wednesday from noon to midnight; Thursday to Saturday from noon to 2am; and closed Sunday. Reservations can be made by contacting 04 554 0707 or visiting <a href="https://notonlyfish-dxb.com/" target="_blank">notonlyfish-dxb.com</a>. <i>This review was conducted at the invitation of the restaurant</i>