The Original Paradise: Dom Fernando’s New Restaurant Is Set To Transform Sri Lanka’s Food Scene – He Invited Us To Colombo To Show Us How

It was just past 7am in Colombo, Sri Lanka, and the day had already begun to stir. The heat was rising fast, thickening the air with the scent of diesel, spices and the sea. From the back seat of a car, I watched as the city moved around me: tuk tuks weaved through traffic; school children in crisp uniforms clambered onto buses; and street vendors arranged their stalls beneath colourful umbrellas.

I’d already spent a few days in the capital – exploring the island’s range of native produce and getting to know its fast-evolving culinary landscape – and now I was heading south to the coastal town of Weligama. My travel companion: Dom Fernando – chef and founder of Paradise, the critically acclaimed London restaurant that channels the soul of Sri Lankan cuisine into the heart of Soho. Like Colombo, Paradise is layered and vivid – Dom’s atmospheric ode to his dual heritage (he was born in the UK to Sri Lankan parents, and split his time between the two), crafted to immerse diners in bold flavours, deep memory and unmistakable warmth.

But this trip wasn’t about retracing Paradise’s roots, I’d come to Sri Lanka to discover something new: the next chapter of the island’s culinary story – and Dom’s latest venture, Open Door Policy (ODP). The soon-to-open, 10-seat chef’s table restaurant aims to redefine the Sri Lanka dining experience. What I thought would be a week-long whirlwind tour of Colombo’s food and drink scene quickly became something more layered; a deep dive into Dom Fernando’s mission to reimagine and uplift the country’s hospitality scene: one rooted in culture, community and care.

As our car sped through the morning traffic, Dom launched into his vision with the kind of energy that only jet lag or genuine passion can produce – probably a mix of both by this point, given he’d just flown in from London after an emergency trip to help his team at an event in Paradise. ODP, he explained, wouldn’t just be a restaurant, it would be a platform.

Dom was building Open Door Policy from the ground up, transforming a two-storey villa in a quiet residential area by the coast in the Colombo 3 district into a space where guests would embark on a full gastronomic journey. The concept? Each evening, 10 guests would arrive for an immersive dining experience — from the warm welcome at the door and the drinks poured on arrival to the carefully sourced local produce in the kitchen. Throughout the night, Dom would guide his guests through the menu, sharing the stories behind each dish.

He also spoke about partnerships with local hotel schools, redefining how hospitality is taught and valued – moving away from traditional large hotel-style service and introducing a more modern approach, where servers feel confident engaging with guests and are recognised as key contributors to the dining experience, as well as breaking the island’s long-standing gender norms in the kitchen, where waiting tables and front of house had been historically reserved for men. His ambition was clear: to create not only a world-class dining experience, but also an ecosystem that would empower a new generation of Sri Lankan culinary talent, particularly women: “There’s so much untapped talent here,” says Dom. “Whether it’s the people, the produce, or the culture, it’s all about how we nurture it, refine it, and share it with the world in the best possible way.”

The same ethos applies to the ingredients Dom used at ODP. His pride in Sri Lanka’s rich natural larder was unmistakable. During my time there, I saw it firsthand – Dom meeting with the new generation of tea plantation owners, visiting cinnamon farmers, even bartering with a group of nuns for a plot of land to grow specific crops required for the menu. No stone was left unturned in his commitment to creating a true 360-degree experience – one that not only celebrated Sri Lanka’s produce but actively gave back to the island and its people.

We continued south, eventually reaching the coastal town of Weligama. It was here I’d be staying at the at Cape Weligama, an impossibly beautiful clifftop retreat with sweeping ocean views, and the setting for Dom’s much-anticipated soft launch of the ODP experience, hosted as part of the Gourmet Galle Festival.

Our schedule between arriving in Weligama and the event itself was packed. First on the itinerary: fishing. A 6am start. Dom was eager to dive into the local markets and speak about his ambitious plans to also support regional industries while preserving traditional techniques that risk being lost. We met at the water’s edge as the first hints of sunlight stretched across the sky. Everything was quiet. The sea was still, and along the shore, fishermen perched on their wooden boats, chatting quietly after a long night’s work. Dom, running on little sleep but full of energy, approached the scene with a kind of relaxed familiarity, as though he’d already spent many mornings out at sea with these men. His warmth was immediate, his respect for their craft palpable: “Look at how well they know this water,” he said, watching them work. “It’s instinctive. Generations of knowledge passed down. That’s what I want to protect – not just the flavours of Sri Lanka, but the skills and the way of life that could so easily disappear if no one fights to keep it alive.”

As we drifted, Dom spoke about one of the island’s pressing challenges: the struggle to engage younger Sri Lankans in traditional trades. “These techniques are dying,” he said. “A lot of younger people want jobs that feel easier, like driving tuk tuks, which are everywhere here. But I’d love to try and shift that mindset, especially in the rural areas. When I hire people, I always try to show that there’s real value in these older ways of working but also try to modernise mindsets towards money.”

The experience out on the water is something I’ll carry with me for a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt stillness quite like it. Our captain, with hands weathered from a lifetime on the sea, threaded bait onto his hook slowly, precisely. Then, with a flick, he cast the line into the calm waters. And we waited; sitting back and taking in the vastness of the ocean, trusting in the techniques passed down between generations.

After the morning out at sea, Dom left the group with his right-hand-man and now head chef of Paradise, Pranav Katyal, heading straight into prep mode at Cape Weligama for the evening’s event. Meanwhile, I made my way into the historical town of Galle with Georgia Ayres – brand manager for both Paradise and ODP – whose deep familiarity with Sri Lanka mirrors that of the rest of Dom’s close-knit team. She’s spent countless days on the island, returning trip after trip, immersing herself in the places and people that shape each of the restaurants. It’s not just about understanding the local context, it’s about becoming part of it. Dom sees this level of connection as essential for anyone working within his intentionally small, family-style team, where every member is expected to move with both heart and purpose – an ethos exemplified from the top down.

In Galle, we stopped by Rope Walk, an arrack bar tucked inside the renowned Galle Fort Hotel. Arrack – a centuries-old distilled spirit native to Sri Lanka – has long been woven into the island’s drinking culture. But here, I wasn’t just tasting it; I was seeing what it could be.  The issue, Georgia explained, isn’t with the flavour. It’s with the branding, the packaging, the production infrastructure – all the things that allow spirits like mezcal to now command respect on the global mixology stage. And, honestly, I could see her point. Each pour revealed something different – smoky, floral, spiced, even buttery – proof that arrack isn’t a one-note spirit but a category with range. Mixed into cocktails, it was smooth and complex, with a depth I hadn’t expected. Familiar, yes – but also completely new.

Next, we headed to Hiriketiya, a laid-back surfer’s cove on the south coast, to visit Raa – a breezy, open-air bar run by two of Dom’s friends, Lala and Don. It’s the latest concept from them, who are also behind Smoke and Bitters, the island’s only bar to land a coveted spot on Asia’s 50 Best Bars list (currently ranked at No. 29). At Raa, everything revolves around one thing: the coconut tree. “It’s what feeds this country entirely,” Don told me. “From the food we eat to the roofs over our heads.” Arrack – distilled from the sap of the coconut palm – is the soul of the menu. Although here it’s more than just a base spirit; it’s a statement. Every drink pays homage to local tradition while pushing Sri Lankan cocktail culture into bold, contemporary territory.

But the mission behind Raa goes deeper than mixology. It’s about protecting the endangered art of toddy tapping – the centuries-old process of harvesting the coconut sap. Like Dom at ODP, the team is passionate about upskilling the local community and reviving interest in these traditional crafts. They’ve even launched an apprenticeship programme in hopes of keeping the trade alive. “This is a dying trade that we can’t recreate,” Don says as we sit, sipping on one of their signature cocktails – the June Plum – while the late afternoon sun glows over the ocean and the backs of surfers.

That same sense of purpose – of building something lasting, local and rooted in care – was at the heart of my final day in Sri Lanka: a first taste of what’s to come with Open Door Policy. Dom had been in full preparation mode until 2am the night before, pouring his heart and soul into creating something special for the 10 guests gathered around that table – and I felt genuinely lucky to be among them. The room was softly lit, with a playlist curated by Dom (of course) playing softly in the background. A sea breeze drifted through the open-air space, bringing a welcome relief to the evening heat. We gathered around the table, arranged as a square with Dom and his team stood in the middle, and listened as he introduced himself and shared the story behind ODP.

It felt like a homecoming; a quiet but powerful shift. Until now, much of Dom’s energy had gone into recreating Sri Lankan flavours in London, always leaving a part of himself behind on the island. Now, things are beginning to reverse: he has his sights set on spending 80% of his time here, on the ground, driving real change in the place that shaped him.

The menu, much like at his London restaurant, was a fusion of Dom’s British and Sri Lankan heritage – but the flavours were unmistakably, unapologetically Dom Fernando. It was a 10-course tasting menu that began with a rasam – a traditional, spicy, soup-like dish – reimagined with a British twist using Kentish raspberries. His dual heritage wove its way through every course, from the snacks to the mains, right through to dessert: a plate of paneer paired with Hampshire Tunworth ice cream, vanilla-poached Yorkshire rhubarb, konda kavum baba and a drizzle of Ceylon Arrack caramel.

Each course was introduced with the easy charm and warmth I’d come to expect from Dom; he’d effectively become my tour guide throughout this trip, a role he carried with pride – and with real skill. Whether we were tea tasting, out on a fishing trip or weaving through busy markets, his passion for Sri Lanka, and his almost protective instinct over it, was clear.

As the night unfolded at Cape Weligama, you could feel the room relax: laughter gradually bubbling around the table; strangers bonding over shared dishes; brought together by Dom’s food and storytelling. It felt intimate, honest and quietly momentous. The start of something meaningful.

By the end of the trip, I felt almost as though I’d been brought into the team myself, a week defined by adventure, ambition and a shared belief in the power of food and drink to tell stories and connect people across cultures. I understood that this wasn’t just a story about a restaurant – it was a story about food as a force for change. It wasn’t fine dining for spectacle’s sake, but a quiet act of preservation – of techniques, ingredients and voices that risk being lost.

For a small island, Sri Lanka carries a weight of flavour, history, and humanity that leaves a lasting impression. And it’s projects like Open Door Policy, led by people like Dom, that have the potential to amplify those voices on a global stage. And as a traveller, it allowed me to reconsider what makes a meal meaningful. Maybe the biggest takeaway was that the most powerful meals aren’t the most extravagant, but the ones that root you more deeply in the world around you.

Open Door Policy launches this July – get a first taste with a glimpse inside Dom’s soft launch at Gourmet Galle in our exclusive video below...