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Unlike its more exuberant sister city, Abu Dhabi moves at a measured pace – even after dusk, when Dubai’s skyline is already ablaze with movement. The roads carry a gentle hum rather than a rush; there is no urgency, no gridlock, only the sense of an evening unfurling exactly as it should. It is against this backdrop of composed calm that the drive toward Emirates Palace Mandarin Oriental begins to feel like a prelude.
And what a prelude it is. As the car sweeps along the palace drive, the building reveals itself in stages. Gold against a bruised, dark sky, its facade glowing as though lit from within. The fountains perform their own theatre show at the entrance, and by the time you step out, you understand that the arrival is not incidental to the experience, but is the experience, or at least its opening act.
Tucked into a corner of this storied palace is Strawfire, newly anointed in the MICHELIN Guide 2026, where Japanese Warayaki cooking meets a room designed to seduce slowly.
The Threshold
The entrance announces itself in warmth: reds, ambers and burnished orange wash over a bar generously stocked with both spirited and spirit-free pours. A lounge seating area sits opposite, an invitation to either open or close the evening here, cocktail in hand, unhurried. It is a gracious overture, but it is only that as the real transformation waits further in.
Into the Rabbit Hole
To move deeper into Strawfire is to watch a room change its entire emotional register. The warm citrus tones of the entrance give way to something moodier – emerald greens and deep blacks that seem to pull you close and wrap around you, cocooning the space from the entrance hall behind. Firelight from the open Warayaki flame flickers against the dark palette, casting a glow that photographers chase and diners never forget.
The tables are arranged with intention: close enough for the connection between guests, generous enough that solitary diners feel entirely at ease. On the Thursday evening of our visit, one woman dined alone at a nearby table. A small and refreshing note that this is a room built as comfortably for self-possession as for company.
We were seated at the most coveted vantage point in the house: beside the live cooking station, where the theatre of Warayaki unfolds in real time – flames rising, ingredients meeting fire, the kitchen’s choreography laid bare. As the evening progressed, the room filled steadily, a hum of connection and conversation building in delicious contrast to the stillness of the city outside.
The Table
Our server, Sergio, proved an exceptional guide, fluent in the restaurant’s history, precise on ingredient provenance, and instinctively attentive to what would suit us best. Every adjustment we requested was met without friction, a small confirmation that everything arriving at the table was being cooked to order, not assembled in advance.
We began with the salmon skewers, kissed by the Strawfire itself and left with a gentle char that perfumed every bite – arguably the finest expression on the starter menu. Alongside, a glass of the Kaze no Kaori, a non-alcoholic composition of shiso, passionfruit and yuzu. Think a passionfruit mojito reimagined with Japanese restraint, a touch sweeter, with a citrus-sharp finish that lingered pleasantly.
From the wider table, a procession of dishes followed:
To start: burrata with blood orange and smoked jalapeño; edamame in chili-garlic butter, moreish and satisfying; prawn tempura with tendashi; Korean fried chicken glazed in sesame and a spicy-sour sauce; seabass with kanzuri chili; teriyaki salmon; honey-yuzu kosho chicken wings; and avocado layered with feta and crisp gyoza skin in a sudachi dressing.
From the maki: a salmon roll with avocado, cucumber, pickled radish, bubu arare and gochujang mayonnaise – bright, textural and a graceful pause before the mains.
Mains and sides: Spicy miso Chilean seabass with pickled cucumber; soy-glazed asparagus; broccolini in wafu dressing; and a truffle rice layered with seasonal truffle, maitake mushrooms, asparagus and garlic chips.
To finish: A tableside Kabosu tart, lime and meringue, presented with a personal ceremony.
The salmon was, without exaggeration, the standout of the evening. Succulent, faintly smoked, its freshness self-evident in every stage from the wash to the grill. The edamame offered a light, protein-forward opener with real depth of flavour. The maki roll arrived crisp and clean, its ginger and wasabi notes cutting cleanly through the richness that came before it. Even the vegetables, so often an afterthought on tasting menus, were treated with the same reverence as a prime cut, the asparagus turned and glazed with evident care. The truffle rice, meanwhile, was pure indulgence: creamy, earthy, deliciously filling.
The Kabosu tart, finished tableside, closed the evening on an unfamiliar and welcome note. Its citrus sharpness was balanced by soft meringue, made all the more memorable by the small theatre of its presentation.
The Verdict
Strawfire is dining as spectacle, but never at the expense of substance. The Warayaki flame is not a gimmick, but the room’s beating heart, a live fire-show that threads through every course and every conversation. The atmosphere builds beautifully as the night deepens, the service is warm and exact, and the menu rewards those willing to wander from the expected. Certain dishes, including the salmon, the truffle rice, that final tableside tart, definitely linger in memory long after the bill arrives.
From the hush of the Abu Dhabi evening to the golden threshold of Emirates Palace, and finally into the flame-lit heart of Strawfire itself, this is a dining experience conceived in stages, each one more absorbing than the last. Attention to detail, it turns out, is the true signature dish.
Strawfire, Emirates Palace Mandarin Oriental, Abu Dhabi.
Open Tuesday–Thursday and Sunday, from 6 pm
Instagram: @strawfireabudhabi
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