I’d like to be under the sea Tonight, Sir, you’ll be dining with Mr Octopus, Madam Eel and Baby Pufferfish. enjoys a meal (thanks to Kiwi ingenuity) at the world’s largest underwater restaurant.
Brook Sabin
The world’s largest underwater restaurant – designed and built by Kiwis – gave us quite the welcoming party. A turtle, stingray, shark and pufferfish swam casually below the walkway heading to the restaurant. At the end of the jetty a spiral staircase led us to one of the best experiences we’ve ever had.
Hurawalhi resort is the latest in a long line of jaw-dropping luxury retreats to open in the Maldives. And competition in the picturesque Indian Ocean archipelago has super-sized in recent years. We’re talking things like private islands with butlers, even a two-storey overwater bungalow with a water slide from the roof.
But instead of going up, Hurawalhi went down. Five point eight metres below the surface to be exact. And it’s worked in creating attention; making headlines around the world.
Our journey underwater started with a 45-minute seaplane flight from the country’s capital – giving us a spectacular bird’s eye view of dozens of the 1200 islands that make up the Maldives. With a bit of a rough thud, our plane came to a stop next to the tiny atoll of Hurawalhi.
Where is it? A few people were peering out the plane’s small windows to try and find the island’s star attraction. The only clue was a large building at the end of a jetty, and branching off that a small turret – home to the stairwell descending deep underwater.
The island is a celebration of all things luxury – forget staying on land, two-thirds of the rooms are lavish overwater bungalows. Below them, the ocean teems with fish; by far the best snorkelling we experienced in our month exploring the Maldives.
That brings me back to our welcoming party at the restaurant. A day after our arrival, we had a dinner booking underwater. The restaurant seats just eight couples, so is often booked a week or more ahead.
The romantically lit jetty gently snakes 200m out to the edge of the coral reef, where the restaurant has been placed. We were late to our seating after being distracted by the turtle, shark, and stingrays, which provided the pre-dinner entertainment.
At the end of the jetty is an abovewater restaurant, although your eye is quickly distracted by a nearby huge underwater glow. There it is! Hundreds of fish swarm in the light, feasting on small insects that are also attracted to the glow.
From there, you have two choices. Watch it all from the above-water restaurant, or spend the evening underwater. Option B is tightly guarded. Guests are only allowed a look underwater if they book a table – otherwise the glow is as close as you get.
So what do you miss out on if you don’t fork out the $385 a person to get past the door?
At the end of the walkway is a steep descending spiral staircase. Proudly sitting just off the side of the stairs is a cut-out of the acrylic that the restaurant’s windows are made of. It’s surprisingly thick (13cm) and before descending, each guest is told the restaurant was designed and built in New Zealand: sure to make any Kiwi proud!
The tight staircase down has 41 steps. Two large windows stop any feeling of claustrophobia on the way down; a large school of angel fish hang around the first window – like curious kids at the entrance to a party, waiting to see who turned up.
At the bottom of the stairs, beyond the small serving area, was what has to be one of the most spectacular settings for a restaurant anywhere in the world.
I must admit, I thought it would be a bit gimmicky; a bit like Kelly Tarlton’s with a few chairs and tables. But it’s nothing like it.
Huge schools of fish swarmed in all directions. From bright yellow to red, green and orange. We watched other diners walk in, and just like us, each couple stood at the entrance in silent awe of the setting.
The reef around the restaurant is home to 23 different types of fish, including a lazy octopus and two moray eels.
Seated at our table – it was almost impossible to concentrate on the menu. My nautical neighbour was the resident octopus, soon followed by dozens of other fish that wanted to take a closer look at me. I couldn’t help but be amused at how the tables had turned. Fish finally have the chance to watch humans in a tank.
And it really does happen. A coral grouper hovered next to my head for about 20 minutes, eyeballing me the entire time. Did it want to know if I was eating his relatives? For the record, I chose the non-fish menu. I thought it would be a little strange eating fish while being watched by them. After all, who sets up a table in the middle of a herd of cows and orders a slab of rump? I was clearly overthinking – everyone else had the fish.
The dinner menu was seven courses, and the food was so visually impressive it was a temporary distraction to the show on the reef. It was also fashionably understated. The first course was simply described as ‘‘diver scallop’’. What emerged was spectacular.
The scallop arrived in a large clamshell with apricot puree, sliced almonds, black truffle caviar, three different types of seaweed, and a vinaigrette made into tiny pearls so it burst in your mouth. And there was a squid ink cracker on top. A little more than the simple seared scallop I was expecting.
And so it continued for each meal. The blueberry cheesecake was so deconstructed it looked more like an edible miniature Japanese garden. It came complete with tiny balls of blueberry coulis that, once again, burst in your mouth.
But the star of the night wasn’t the