Stockholm 
It’s Sunday morning and we’re heading out for a stride around the city. The route is generally the same every visit and takes in sturdy embassies, funkis-style apartment buildings, a local shopping mall for a coffee and a spin around the grocery store, a few large parks and then more fine residences and diplomatic compounds. 

Before heading out I ask the gentleman running reception if the weekend papers have arrived and he says that The New York Times in print is a thing of the past in Sweden and that he doesn’t know when the FT Weekend will show up. “It should have been here by now but you never know these days,” he says with a frown. “Everyone wants a newspaper on the weekend and we’d like some alternatives but there aren’t any.” We exchange a few more words on the topic and as I head for the door he says: “Maybe time for you to launch one, Tyler.” 

The idea occupies my thoughts for the rest of the walk, the weekend and the past week. It’s not the first time that I’ve considered the idea but 18 months ago, with other projects on the go, I took it off the back burner, put it in an airtight container and placed it at the rear of the fridge. Now I feel that it needs to thaw out and get some air. Would you buy an English-language paper or are you happy with your current offer? Do you even need paper with so much available on screen? Does it need to be delivered or would you make the trip to the kiosk to secure a copy? On my way back to the hotel I pass the newsstand on Karlaplan plaza and there’s a healthy stack of the FT Weekend piled up at the cashier. I grab two copies (one for Mom too) and head back to the hotel. I’m happy to tuck it into my tote for the trip to Bahrain but something is missing.
 
Dubai International Airport 
It’s just after midnight on Monday morning and I’m waiting for my connection to Bahrain. The Emirates First Class lounge is sprawling and not a thing of beauty. It’s too bright for the hour, it’s understaffed and there are few places to properly recline. One thing the carrier does well is support its local printers by offering an array of editions from all corners of the world – but there’s something missing here, too. What is the English-language news outlet for the Gulf in print and digi that’s best in business, culture, style and more? Is it Abu Dhabi’s The National? Supposedly things are happening at the Khaleej Times but I can’t find a copy. Is this another media opportunity?
 
Bahrain 
What a gentle landing – in more ways than one. The airport is human scale and I’m off the plane, through customs and into the car in about five minutes. It’s around 03.00 and the football pitches are full of young men kicking balls around but the route to the hotel is reasonably quiet. I’m greeted by Mohammed, a well-groomed Bahraini, who shows me up to the room and tells me that all is prepped for what promises to be a busy day ahead. I snatch about five hours of sleep, meet my colleagues Davy and Mikey and off we go. Bahrain is not Qatar or the UAE or Oman – it’s tiny, easy to manage and by midday I’m starting to like it. 

Down some streets I feel like I might be in Beirut’s Hamra and then there are flashes of glitz and the Gulf as we know it. The working day ends with a few hours at the barber and then shifts to dinner at the just-opened Brasero Atlántico and rolls onto an impromptu house party at a wonderful 1980s villa in Yateem Gardens complete with 02.00 shawarma delivery. 

Bahrain is generous, welcoming, dense in parts and wide open in others, scruffy in some corners while perfectly polished elsewhere. I like it, I want to see more, meet more Bahrainis and explore more modernist compounds – but the flight to Dubai, then on to Paris, is boarding. More soon.

Grandpa Derrel was the chief cook in chef Brendan King’s family (writes Carli Ratcliff). Hence why the sign at the door of King’s Anglo-Indian diner in Sydney’s Camperdown reads: “Derrel’s, Nana never cooked.” Known with fondness by the residents of this inner-western suburb, Derrel’s is busy from its 17.00 opening time – often with a queue out the door – and serves until midnight (on Fridays and Saturdays). For staff from the nearby hospital and the local University of Sydney students, it’s a bastion of hope in a city that rarely has kitchens open past 21.00.

Make sure you don’t miss the samosa chaat: smashed samosas on a spicy chickpea curry, minty yoghurt, coriander, chilli and a tamarind chutney. Follow it with a half tandoori chicken plate with a side of chips (a bowl of butter chicken gravy to dip them in can be added to your order) and a bright tomato and cucumber salad laced with cumin. Or why not try a simple tray of butter chicken with roti and rice, washed down with a mango lassi? And it’s not just the food that’s refreshing at Derrel’s – the service is lively and fresh too.
89 Parramatta Rd, Camperdown

Landscaper and entrepreneur Jake Hobson is the founder and CEO of Niwaki, which offers Japanese gardening tools on London’s Chiltern Street. Here he talks to The Monocle Minute Weekend Edition about homemade okonomiyaki, his reggae soundtrack and the Japanese ingredient that jumpstarts his day.

Where do we find you this weekend?
At home in Shaftesbury with my wife Keiko and our 16-year-old son. We’re gearing up for our busy season, which kicks off with the Chelsea Flower Show.

What’s for breakfast?
Always croissants on a Sunday. Whenever I visit Japan, I bring back lots of anko (sweet red-bean paste), so we’ve been having that on our croissants recently. It’s good on toast too.

Lunch in or out?
In. Somehow okonomiyaki has ended up as our standard Sunday lunch, cooked right on the table. 

A Sunday soundtrack?
One of my new year’s resolutions was to listen to more reggae and I’ve come across a Beatles tribute album called Hemp! (a play on “Help!”), which is great fun and gets lots of airtime. Our son plays the piano and if we’re lucky he’ll launch into one of his jazz improvs at some point in the day, which makes me as happy as anything.

Sunday culture must?
Gardening – the highest form of culture.

News or not?
Not really but I have The Times Magazine and Financial Times on my phone, mostly for the “Life & Arts” section

Sunday evening routine?
Very predictable: an hour or so in my office to get a head start on the week. I try to finish bottles of wine rather than open new ones, and wind down with TV.

Do you lay out an outfit for Monday?
No. Monday is usually a day in the office at Niwaki HQ in Semley, and I pretty much always wear the same thing.

Monocle’s Japanese recipe writer puts an umami twist on the classic burnt Basque cheesecake, originally from San Sebastián.

Serves 8

Equipment
20cm (8-inch) loose-bottomed springform tin 

Ingredients
560g cream cheese
45g white miso 
175g granulated sugar
4 large eggs
2 tbsps plain flour
450ml double cream 
Zest of 1 organic lemon

Method
1
Remove the cream cheese from the fridge and allow it to reach room temperature.

2
Preheat your oven to 200C.

3
To prepare the tin, cut a large sheet of baking paper to cover the base and sides. Crumple the paper, dampen it with water, then squeeze out the excess. Line the cake tin with the damp paper, allowing it to come up over the edges.

4 
In a large bowl, combine the cream cheese, miso and sugar. Beat with an electric whisk until smooth and lump-free.

5 
Switch to a hand whisk. Beat the eggs in a separate bowl, then gradually whisk them into the cream cheese mixture until well incorporated. Sift in the flour and whisk to combine.

6 
Gently pour in the double cream and mix with the whisk until just incorporated, not whipped. If the mixture still has lumps, strain it through a sieve for a smooth texture.

7 
Add the lemon zest and mix briefly. Pour the batter into the prepared tin. Tap the tin on the counter to release any air bubbles

8 
As the cheesecake will puff up significantly, place the tin on the lower shelf of the oven. Bake for 35 minutes.

9 
Remove from the oven. It will be very wobbly in the centre but will deflate and set as it cools. Leave it to set for a couple of hours. Once cooled, let it sit in the fridge overnight before serving.

Sitting beside the Laguna de los Siete Colores on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula is Boca de Agua (writes Sarah Rowland). Owner Rodrigo Juárez and architect Frida Escobedo used salvaged building materials to create the panelling, furniture and structure.

“We sought to reinterpret traditional architecture, such as stilts that lift the buildings off the ground to enable vegetation to grow underneath and wildlife to move freely,” says Escobedo. The site is split into three generous treehouses and the on-site restaurant, Flora. Everything here, from the breakfast to the bedding, is Mexican-made. “We draw inspiration from the surroundings, to allow the space to speak for itself.”
bocadeagua.com

Monocle’s May issue is packed with an enviable selection of beachside boltholes. Pick up a copy today.

When Julien Manetti realised the gut benefits of natural fermentation, he decided to set up a micro brewery in Geneva in 2016 (writes Claudia Jacob). A medical student at the time, Manetti was keen to introduce homemade yeasts and barrel-ageing techniques to shake up the strait-laced Swiss beer market.

Brewed in barrels in premises adjacent to the Rhône, the result is a smart selection of craft beers blended with notes of apple, pear, orange and peaches. Manetti’s most recent concoction is a highly quaffable cider that’s blended with elderflowers, a cherry wine and a muscat. Easy does it.

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