The Best Places in the United Arab Emirates

The terrace looks out over a small marina of luxury yachts, which sets the tone pretty efficiently. This Mediterranean restaurant on the fourth floor of The Lana channels the French Riviera, from the sun-bleached dining room to a menu that drifts between Provence and Italy. Jean Imbert's name is on the door, and the kitchen leans into the showmanship, finishing the tuna tartare tableside. Pack something that wouldn't embarrass you on a superyacht.

Red paper lanterns and tiled walls set the mood on the ninth floor of FIVE LUXE JBR, where the windows frame Ain Dubai straight across the water. This is a contemporary Japanese restaurant covering a lot of ground, from raw fish and tempura to robata and teppanyaki, and the kitchen handles the range with genuine care. Counter seats open up an omakase option that draws the dedicated crowd who come for the chef's full attention.

Open-air beachside dining in a gazebo with the Arabian Gulf on one side and the Presidential Palace on the other, which is not a view most restaurants can claim. Sand & Koal is a wood-fire grill restaurant leaning into steaks, surf-and-turf, and seafood platters built for sharing. The smoked chocolate mousse is the kind of finish that makes ordering dessert feel mandatory. Come at sunset, order a drink first, and let the scenery do the heavy lifting.

The open kitchen runs on live fire and the DJ runs loud, which sets the mood at this contemporary Japanese restaurant inside Emirates Palace. Ross Shonhan built his name around Warayaki, a technique where burning straw briefly kisses the ingredients, and the tableside prep keeps things theatrical. Sake, bespoke cocktails, and a terrace when the Gulf air cooperates round out an evening that leans more spectacle than silence.

Graffiti covers the walls, neon lights the bar, and the staff arrive in punk jackets with a friendliness that defuses all the attitude. Dabiz Muñoz, the Madrid chef behind DiverXO, dreamed up this loud, open-plan street food restaurant where the counter seats overlooking the kitchen are the ones to grab. The menu pulls from Europe, Asia, and South America in equal measure, and the molten white chocolate lava cake is not an afterthought.

Tucked onto a mezzanine in Dubai Mall's Chinatown quarter and easy to miss from the main flow, Tang Town is a dimly lit Cantonese restaurant where the mood runs deliberately low and unhurried. The menu leans into prime ingredients, pairing Peking duck with caviar and Wagyu across a broad spread of Cantonese and Sichuan dishes. Come evening, the small centre stage hosts Chinese dance performances, which is either exactly your thing or quietly charming either way.

You enter through the back door of another restaurant, which is either a red flag or a very good sign. Inside, a U-shaped wooden counter seats twelve around an open kitchen, where the chef runs a kaiseki-style omakase, eight or twelve courses of modern Japanese cooking shaped around a monthly theme. The room runs on conversation between guests and the team, making it feel less like dinner service and more like a very controlled dinner party.

A marina view at the quieter end of Al Qana sets the tone for this relaxed Mediterranean restaurant, where the music is good enough that dinner stretches longer than planned. The kitchen travels the full coastline: burrata, croquettes, raw dishes, wood-fired pizza, pasta, and meats from the Josper oven. It's the kind of place that doesn't try too hard, which in Abu Dhabi counts for something.

A curtain in a DIFC tower opens onto something closer to a New York brasserie than anything the neighborhood usually attempts. Inside, the space splits into two restaurants, Rockpool and The Salon, one built around an actual indoor pool, the other a grand open-kitchen dining room. Both run the same menu of seafood, steaks, and pasta, plus a traditional Sunday lunch for those who want the full commitment.

A British brasserie on Bluewaters Island where the menu runs from Scotch egg to beef Wellington, with the odd Dubai flourish, like a Welsh rarebit finished with truffle, keeping things from getting too homesick-sincere. The upper floor has a proper bar counter and cocktails named after London postcodes. Sunday roast draws the kind of families who have decided, collectively, that this is their place now.

The robata grill is the anchor here, sending skewers and smoke through a sleek, sunken dining room inside The Galleria on Al Maryah Island. Zuma is a global izakaya chain done at a register that reads more cocktail-bar-meets-fine-dining than casual Japanese, so dress accordingly. The menu splits between raw preparations and robata, holding to the format that made the brand a reliable draw for the expense-account crowd on three continents.

A steel-and-glass structure by an Italian architect sits among reflecting pools in Ajman, the smallest and quietest of the Emirates. This beach resort lines villas along the shore, runs a long main pool through the property, and offers suites with vast bathrooms and open-air showers. One restaurant employs a fish sommelier, which is either charming or a lot, depending on your afternoon. Flamingos work the mangroves just beyond the property fence.

Five rooms, a saltwater pool, and a spa with no staff, just a sequence of spaces, a shower walk, an herbal sauna, a salt inhalation room, you moving through them at your own pace. This small desert retreat sits less than an hour east of Dubai, where Bedouin form meets precise modernist design. The rooms are compact but considered, and the absence of bustle is the whole point. The Michelin Guide has it among its selected hotels.

Fifty-one floors above the Palm, this bar pulls from Japan, Brazil, and Peru simultaneously, which sounds like a fever dream until you're holding a passionfruit-spiked cocktail with disco balls spinning overhead. The crowd dresses up and the DJs show up ready; on Thursdays, samba dancers take over entirely. It's a lot, in the way Dubai tends to be a lot, and the view gives everyone permission to lean into it.

The rooms here are styled around a concept that folds art, fashion, and retail into a resort stay, which sounds like marketing until you're poolside on a man-made island in the Arabian Gulf. This all-inclusive on Al Marjan Island runs ten stories, 257 rooms and suites, several with private plunge pools, plus multiple restaurants, an adults-only pool bar, and a standalone beach club about ninety minutes from Dubai.

Tented plunge-pool villas sit at the edge of the Arabian Gulf, their canopied ceilings and flowing drapes borrowing from Bedouin fishing-village tradition rather than the usual eco-resort playbook. This beachfront resort in Ras Al Khaimah runs as a fully self-contained stay, with private cabanas and daybeds outside each villa. Snorkeling and diving fill the days, and the neighboring desert sister property lends its spa when the sea loses its novelty.

On the Gulf of Oman side of the UAE, far from the Dubai crowds, the Fairmont Fujairah is a 181-room beachside resort where every room looks straight out to sea over the marina. The spa runs deep, the pools are plural, and snorkeling is on the itinerary if you want it. Dining leans maritime, with a seafood-forward restaurant and a kitchen doing a MediterrAsian thing that sounds like a portmanteau but apparently works.

Each villa has its own pool and outdoor shower, with the Hajar Mountains behind you and the Gulf of Oman out front. This all-villa resort on the UAE's quieter east coast sits a long way from the Dubai spectacle, which is rather the point. Whitewashed interiors carry Arabic design details without going overboard, and Snoopy Island's snorkeling reefs are just offshore. The Michelin Guide has it among its selected hotels.

Twenty-four floors up inside One Za'abeel, this specialty coffee shop trades Dubai's street-level bustle for a calm room with a skyline framing every table. The pour-over program gets the most attention, and the cold brew is serious enough to slow you down. It draws a mix of remote workers and people who simply wanted an excuse to be this high up with a good cup.

A specialty coffee shop on Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Boulevard, close enough to the Burj Khalifa that tourists drift in looking slightly overwhelmed by Dubai and leave looking slightly more caffeinated. The room is modern and calm, the kind of place where laptops outnumber conversations. Pour-overs and lattes are taken seriously here, and fresh pastries round things out for anyone settling in for the afternoon.

Warm wood, minimal fuss, and the kind of quiet that makes you stay longer than planned. Around The Block is a specialty coffee shop in Al Wasl where the cold brew and flat whites are made with ethically sourced beans and a fair amount of care. It draws the laptop crowd as much as the catch-up crowd, which tells you something about the seating and the wifi.

A minimalist coffee shop tucked inside the Wadi Alamardi mall, Cross Coffee draws the laptop crowd and the genuinely unhurried in equal measure. The pour-over and cold brew are the ones to order. It's a calm room by Dubai mall standards, which is either an achievement or a miracle depending on the day.

A coffee shop tucked inside Dubai Mall that somehow manages to feel calm, which is no small feat given the mall's general ambition to be a city-state. Luna leans into specialty beans, with pour-overs and lattes that actually make you slow down. The Burj Khalifa fills the window, so the scenery does its part too. Laptop crowd mixes with shoppers who needed a break from buying things.

Thirty villas scattered across a savannah, where the neighbors are more likely to be gazelles than other guests. This private-island resort on Sir Bani Yas pairs game drives and wildlife spotting with horse riding, watersports, and archery, so no one runs out of reasons to leave the villa, or excuses to stay in it. The spa draws on Arab beauty traditions, and four restaurants cover everything from South African grilling to Mediterranean.

A nature reserve five miles off Abu Dhabi doubles as a resort, which sounds like a press release but turns out to be accurate. Anantara runs it with the island-mellow ease of their Thai properties, so the scale is unmistakably Emirati (rooms large, suites lavish) but the mood is looser than the mainland norm. Game drives and trail hikes sit alongside the pool and spa, and you fly in on a small prop plane, which sets the tone nicely.

The walls are lined with family photos, the celebrities among them suggesting this Persian kebab spot near Al Fahidi has been feeding the right people for a long time. An old-school institution, it runs on marinated mutton, chicken, and tenderloin served over saffron rice, and the portions are generous in a way that feels almost confrontational. Communal tables, no ceremony, and prices that make you look twice at the bill.

You walk in through a tiny vinyl record shop, which sets the tone perfectly. Honeycomb Hi-Fi is a Japanese small-plates-and-cocktail bar tucked inside a hotel, all wooden paneling, midcentury chairs, and Ojas speakers doing serious work. The menu runs wagyu katsu sliders and lamb gyozas, while the bar turns out highballs with the kind of theatrical flair that makes the people around you briefly stop talking.

The wood-fired tacos here come two bites each, and the kitchen turns out around 800 of them a day, which tells you something about how seriously this beachside taco spot takes itself. Chef Shaw Lash brought a deep fluency in Mexican techniques and sourcing to Dubai, and the menu follows traditional styles she refined working in Mexican kitchens across the world. Casual, affordable, and a short walk from the beach.

Palestinian comfort food served in an old villa on Al Wasl Road, with metal platters hitting the table minutes after you order. This is the Al Manara location, the one people actually argue about, and it runs from breakfast until 1 a.m. The menu is carb-forward and unapologetically so: manakeesh, hummus, musakhan chicken rolls, grilled haloumi. Come hungry and early, or you'll be waiting in the overflow shed wondering where the evening went.

A whitewashed Greek taverna hidden in a car park basement off Sheikh Zayed Road, which sounds like a warning but lands closer to a discovery. The room runs to terra-cotta tones and an intimate, down-to-earth feel, and the menu covers the expected ground of tzatziki and souvlaki before slow-cooked suckling lamb and charred octopus make a stronger case for staying. It fills up fast at peak hours, so book ahead.

Phyllo-wrapped pies are the whole point here, made with enough butter to register on a seismograph, at this bright cafe tucked into Alserkal Avenue's arts-district sprawl. The maroon-and-stainless interior is cheerful without trying too hard, and the menu runs hearty and a little unexpected, with wagyu pastrami phyllo and pink pickled onions sitting alongside brunch pies loaded with salmon and trout caviar. The elderflower matcha is the kind of thing you order ironically and then reorder.

Lobster rolls and oysters by the dozen pull most of the weight here, but the truffle pizzas have their loyalists too. The Maine is a brasserie-style bar and grill tucked into a DoubleTree, which undersells it: the bar runs loud and the room fills fast with people who came for a drink and stayed for dinner. The concept has since spread to Ibiza and Mayfair, which tells you something about the formula.

A restored Jumeirah villa turned into a family restaurant by a Jordanian mother and her two daughters, each handling a different corner of the operation. The sourdough uses only flour, water, and salt, which tells you something about where they stand on shortcuts. The rooms feel like someone's home because, in spirit, they are. It's the kind of place that makes restraint look easy.

A food hall perched at the foot of the Burj Khalifa, with the Dubai Fountains performing outside and cheerful pandemonium performing inside. Time Out's editors curated the vendors, so you get a credible mix of homegrown spots rather than the usual airport-court suspects. Tourists fill most of the seats, but the food holds up, and the drinks are among the more affordable you'll find anywhere in this city.

The circular bar on the 44th floor of Grosvenor House earns the name, with views over the marina that make it easy to forgive the champagne-bar origins and the flashier crowd that came with them. This is a cocktail bar now, properly, with lounge rooms off to the sides for anyone who wants to sit somewhere quieter and pretend they planned ahead. The jetset still shows up, but so does everyone else.

Hanwoo beef, Korea's most prized native cattle breed, is the whole reason this upscale Korean barbecue restaurant exists at the St. Regis on the Palm. It's the only spot in Dubai serving it, flown in directly from Korea and cooked over tableside charcoal grills with the kind of calm precision that makes theatre feel unnecessary. Warm wood, soft light, composed service. It landed at number 28 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, which for a Korean barbecue concept is a statement.

A coffee shop sitting right on Jumeirah Fishing Harbour, where the view does a fair amount of the heavy lifting. BRIX leans into minimalist interiors and pour-overs, the kind of place where the laptop crowd settles in for hours without anyone making pointed eye contact. Pastries come along for the ride. It's quiet enough to get something done, which is probably why the Asian Coffee Map called it one of Dubai's better spots for working remotely.

A specialty coffee roastery tucked into an Al Quoz warehouse, where the industrial bones of the space, exposed ducts and raw concrete, do most of the decorating. The team roasts in-house, so the room smells like the product before you order it. Quiet enough that people bring laptops and actual books, which is rarer than it sounds in Dubai. Pour-overs and cold brew are the moves here.