I remember it still, the day and date of my first time: Monday, 6 November 2023. That night, I bit into the best falafel I have ever had the pleasure of digesting. The place, Aniba. The man who made it, Executive Chef Anas Shami. As the night unspooled, he gave a masterclass on how rich, dynamic, and inventively exquisite Middle Eastern cuisine — my favourite gastronomic category — could be.
To dine in Aniba is to treat yourself to the pleasure of savouring. If all this is sounding superlative, it is because the Aniba experience, as a totality, is a superlative one. Presiding as he does over the kitchen, Chef Anas ensures that every plate that comes from it is, as he says, “100% — always”. That night, I tasted wisdom that would endure every time I’d cross the threshold into Aniba’s sensual embrace: the flavours one experiences at Aniba are unique to Aniba only — in the best, most singular sense.
In the journalism and marketing of restaurants and food, the idea of being taken/going on a ‘journey’ recurs too often. At Aniba, though, I can personally guarantee that Chef Anas welcomes the diner to a veritable gastronomic adventure. Being a man of taste, his art mirrors his life. When he reveals that he loves “getting out of [his] comfort zone and meeting people, seeing how they live and learning about their culture and their food”, he is affirming the bold and searching spirit with which he helms the kitchen at Aniba.
This is a chef intent on mystifying the familiar, transcending the tried-and-tested, and committed to the higher task of elevating the experience of classic cuisine to richer, infinitely more tantalising territory. That is why we have rewards such as Aniba’s take on the Pani Puri, wherein a feather-light and crispy shell is the site of a sumptuous dialogue between tender cuts of hamachi and a hushed whisper of citrusy yoghurt foam. A revelation in a bite — and a gorgeous view of how Asian staples can complement the rich nuances of Middle Eastern cuisine.
Like Aniba’s enchantments, Chef Anas himself is an enigma. A man of few words, he’ll also gush prodigiously about his love for travel — 26 is the number of countries he has visited — and the open road. He tells me of a time in Sweden when he bought a hundred flowers and handed them outto random people. The reason for his generosity: “I like making people happy.”
There are layers and levels to the man, truly. In this same interview, he shares something else about himself that pleasantly and legitimately surprises me: that he is a romantic, and that he has watched Titanic more than 10 times. He looks me square in the eye and tells me to never give up on love. Time stops for a while, then, we resume talking.
Every time I think I know him, he gives me another winking glimpse of his multitudes.
The hand that feeds is a blessing. The hand that feeds and makes every moment shared with it a joyous and meaningful one is more.
