Restaurants with a view rarely need to work very hard in Dubai, but MEI resists the obvious temptation to lean too heavily on its surroundings. Yes, it looks directly onto the Burj Al Arab and yes, the terrace is as photographically inclined as one might expect, but the real pleasure of this new opening lies in its assured sense of rhythm — of a room that understands how an evening should unfold.
Opened by SHI Hospitality (the group behind SHI and Moli by SHI), MEI takes over the former home of Zheng He’s at Jumeirah Mina A’Salam, reimagined as a Chinese‑Japanese dining room. At lunch, the atmosphere is polished and composed; by night, particularly after 10pm, the lighting softens, the music deepens and the restaurant drifts, almost imperceptibly, into late‑night territory.
The interiors walk a careful line between statement and serenity. A muted palette of warm woods, carved details and abstract murals lends the space a gallery‑like calm, while the bar — low‑lit and quietly magnetic — signals that this is a place designed for lingering. Even the bathrooms merit a moment: impeccably decorated and improbably elegant, they are the sort that prompt an immediate reassessment of one’s own bathroom ambitions before you’ve even made it back to the table. Outside, the expansive terrace offers one of Mina A’Salam’s most compelling vantage points, particularly at dusk, when the last of the heat lifts.
The menu reflects the same restraint. MEI’s Chinese and Japanese influences are kept distinct, allowed to speak in their own registers rather than forced into showy fusion. The Japanese side is anchored by raw dishes, with fish flown in from Tokyo’s Toyosu Market and handled with confidence: sashimi is cleanly cut, maki restrained and balanced.
Chinese cooking provides warmth and depth. There is wok fire here, but also patience. Dim sum begins the conversation, but it is the claypots and vegetable‑led dishes that reveal the kitchen’s precision — and make MEI one of the more rewarding addresses in Dubai for plant‑based diners.
The eggplant with tofu and black bean sauce claypot is exemplary: slick, savoury and deeply comforting, it has the sort of gloss that suggests long familiarity rather than novelty, while the Buddha’s Delight — a traditional medley of vegetables — is executed with enough care to feel celebratory rather than dutiful.
Vegetable dishes are not sidelined here; Chinese‑style peppers are blistered and aromatic, greens retain bite, and vegan and vegetarian options extend across starters and dim sum (the mixed mushroom lotus puff is exceptional), allowing meat‑free diners to take part fully in the theatre of sharing. It’s a refreshing change from menus where plant‑based eating feels like an accommodation rather than a pleasure.
For those inclined otherwise, MEI delivers its moments of indulgence. Robata‑grilled meats arrive smoky and assured; the wagyu, in particular, is handled sparingly. The Peking duck, finished with caviar, is unapologetically lavish.
Desserts continue the restaurant’s preference for lightness over excess. Crêpes layered with coconut cream are delicate and softly indulgent, while pear carpaccio with honey, spice and apple sorbet provides a clean finish. Citrus pavlova, paired with blood orange sorbet, feels particularly well judged after richer dishes.
The dining experience is extended by MEI’s drinks programme, informed by Chinese and Japanese philosophies of balance and intention, Designed to move in step with the menu.
Service is measured and attentive, with staff offering guidance without performance. The team’s product knowledge and warmth contribute to the restaurant’s sophisticated sense of ease.
Ultimately, MEI is less about spectacle and more about timing. It understands when to be calm, when to sharpen, and when to dim the lights and let the night take over. In a city crowded with deliberate drama, the restaurant’s appeal lies in its composure – and in the pleasure of a menu where vegetables are treated with genuine respect.
Images courtesy of MEI / Nour Sabbagh
