Cibus (August 2018) by Times of Malta

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AUGUST 2018

editorial Heat. More than Michael Mann’s 1995 film about a master criminal McCauley, played by De Niro, trying to straighten out the rogue element in his crew, more than the divided life of Lt. Vincent Hanna, played by Pacino – but a film about bridges built across the common and despite differences. Heat. More than the howling heatwaves that are shocking Europe and making the abstract idea of global warming more concrete with intense weather changes and brown grass where brown grass hasn’t been seen in centuries, if ever. A call to bridge differences across great divides if there ever was one. Heat. More than one of the great pillars of cooking, of transformation, of alchemy, of man’s harnessing of nature to sustain mankind. It’s hard not to have that word, heat, seared into your mind whenever you venture out into the sun, whenever you’re stuck in traffic, whenever you’re dreaming of jumping in the big blue by the coast – the parts of it left clean, at least.

It’s a cheap shot, I’ll admit it. August is hot, there’re shut downs, tourists tumble their way down budget-airline staircases and into our hotels, bars, clubs, restaurants. But more than the heat, there’s the way we can bridge divides. In this issue there’s talk of the croissants in Balluta that can tie me right to a boulangerie in France, there’s Danny Coleiro’s use of Greek yoghurt to make the iconic Italian pizza, a little bit of Athens, a little bit of Naples. Ciara Geary writes about Pollen Street Social, the chosen table to share and reconnect with friends she hasn’t seen in a while. Alison Cilia Werdmölder and James Camilleri write about the same dinner – and there are some divides and some bridges at the very same table. There’s coffee, too. Iced, of course, because we can’t always put up with the heat. Many, like James, must find it hard to ditch the brew for the summer months and luckily, they don’t have to.

Executive editor Jamie Iain Genovese (cibus@timesofmalta.com) Publisher Allied Newspapers Ltd. Printing Progress Press Co. Ltd. Production Allied Newspapers Ltd. Design Krista Bugeja

Advertising Sales Marisa Schembri (tel: 2276 4337; marisa.schembri@timesofmalta.com) THIS PUBLICATION IS BEING DISTRIBUTED AS PART OF:

All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole, or in part, is strictly prohibited without written permission. Opinions expressed in Cibus are not necessarily those of the editor-in-chief or publisher. All reasonable care is taken to ensure truth and accuracy, but the editor-in-chief and publisher cannot be held responsible for errors or omissions in articles, advertising, photographs or illustrations. The editor-in-chief is not responsible for material submitted for consideration.

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contents 4.

ICE N’ EASY by James Camilleri Coffee isn’t seasonal for the cult of coffee, but the heat is optional.

12.

POLLEN STREET SOCIAL by Ciara Geary At one of Jason Atherton’s Michelin-starred restaurants, Ciara Geary walks us through a girls’ lunch at the Mayfair restaurant and a most delicious temple of food.

18.

JAMIE AND THE FLAT PEACH by Jamie Iain Genovese Flat peaches go by many names around the world, striking each culture after their spread from China in a new way. The peach is wonderfully frown in the Maltese climate.

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FOURTEEN MINUTES by Danny Coleiro While the labour of love that’s an excellent pizza dough, this fourteen-minuter might be the best second place you can get. Well, according to Danny. Still, the man’s no fool, and there are worse ways to spend fourteen minutes.

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TOKYO FRIED HOUSE – TWO PERSPECTIVES – James Camilleri and Alison Cilia Werdmölder How different could one dinner be to the people at the table? Depends, but we can try to find out.

36.

RUE DE MALTE by Jamie Iain Genovese You wake up somewhere entirely different. Boulevards and avenues and trees on every street. No air-conditioning, but it’s late July and you’re feeling fine.

36 2

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ICE N’ EASY A DEAD-SIMPLE ICED COFFEE DRINK THAT WILL MAKE YOUR SWELTERINGLY-HOT MORNINGS MORE BEARABLE.

WORDS

JAMES CAMILLERI

h, the Maltese summer. Sea, sun, more sun, temperatures so high they make the tarmac runny… The usual fun stuff. Like most who call this little fried rock home, I like the concept of summer, but the actual heat is sometimes a tad too much to handle. At no time is this more apparent than when you hear yourself utter the dreaded words: “It’s too hot for a coffee.” This is sacrilege, because coffee is life, but I get where you’re coming from. And boy oh boy do I have a solution for you. You know where this is going, obviously – yes, iced coffee. A deceptively simple idea, but one that requires a couple of tricks to get right. But not just any iced coffee. I’m going to clue you in on how to make a variant of this divine drink known as the “New Orleans Blend”. Spoilers: it’s great. It’s also easy to make. What more could you want? (I can’t seem to write a simple recipe without rattling off at a tangent about everything, so I’ve marked the actual recipe parts in bold and you can totally ignore the additional notes if you’re in a hurry.)

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INGREDIENTS Coffee You probably figured this one out by yourself. This goes without saying, but use real coffee. None of that instant coffee garbage. You deserve better than that. A French Press Ok, this one isn’t strictly necessary, but it will make your life a good deal easier. If you don’t have one of these, a fine strainer should serve you just as well. Sugar Brown, if you have it. That dark, rich clumpy stuff. Normal sugar will do too if you’re stuck.

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Chicory This is the secret ingredient. Or at least it was until right now. Chicory is a plant native to the Mediterranean, whose roots can be ground and used in the kitchen. It’s often been used as a coffee substitute throughout history, and has a similar taste to coffee (without any of the caffeine). In our recipe, we’re going to use it to add a little bit of a kick to our drink. It’s hard to find in Malta – I got mine from C & M Borg Ltd. in Hamrun, the coffee guys. (Apparently, some people hate the taste of this stuff. I think it’s perfect in this particular scenario. Give it a try.)

RECIPE

COFFEE 1. Grind your coffee to a coarse consistency. I used a blade grinder to grind my beans. It’s a terrible thing to do: blade grinders don’t give a consistent grind and aren’t recommended. They are cheap however, and the grind is good enough for iced coffee. If you want a proper grind, invest in a burr grinder (it uses ceramic plates instead of metal blades) or just ask the guys you bought your coffee from to grind it for use in a French press. 2. Cover it in cold water and give it a mix. This is important. We’re not making a hot pot of coffee and letting it get cold. Mix it up so that all the coffee is submerged and not floating on the top of your press, or whatever you’re brewing it in. 3. Stick it in the fridge for 12-24 hours. This bit takes a while, so you need to plan for this whole iced coffee affair ahead if you want the best brew. By letting the coffee brew slowly, in cold water, you ensure that the resulting concentrate is super smooth and not at all bitter. 4. Strain the grounds out. That’s what your French press is for. Plunge away. If you don’t have one of those, strain the mix with a standard kitchen strainer. 5. You now have iced coffee. This is quite concentrated, so if you want to drink it as is (which you can) you might want to dilute it a little first. This will keep in the fridge for a few days, so you can make a big batch and use it to get you through the week. A word of warning, however. After 24 hours of brewing, the caffeine content in this is quite high. A glass or two is fine, but it’s an easy drink, so you may suddenly realise you’ve downed a litre of the stuff in four hours and are now bouncing off the walls. Hear it from a friend.

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RECIPE

CHICORY SYRUP 1. Mix 1 part water, 1 part sugar, and 1/4 part ground chicory in a pan. I used half a cup of water and scaled accordingly, there’s still leftover syrup after around sixteen cups of coffee. It doesn’t seem to spoil, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it anyway. 2. Put on the fire and stir until the sugar has melted. This shouldn’t take too long, but the chicory will brew over the fire as the sugar is melting. You can leave it a bit longer if you want a more pronounced chicory flavour. 3. Strain the goop out. You should now have a dark, tarry substance with a particular aroma. Force it through a strainer to get rid of the chicory and keep the syrup. 4. You now have chicory syrup. It is dark, sweet, and yummy. It is also exceedingly sticky, being chock-full of sugar, so don’t spill it on your clothes, pets, or loved ones. I don’t have any idea how long it’s supposed to last without going off, but my first batch is still going strong after a month, so I’m going to go ahead and say that this stuff will probably outlast me.

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THE NEW ORLEANS ICED COFFEE 1. Fill a tall glass with ice. This is mostly for theatrical effect, but it also dilutes the iced coffee concentrate somewhat. 2. Pour over iced coffee. The main component of the drink, adding the bulk of the flavour. (Go figure.) Adding more will make the coffee flavour more pronounced, while holding back and adding more milk will make a milder coffee-tail. 3. Add a teaspoon or two of chicory syrup. This sweetens the drink and adds a lovely spicy twist which is hard to describe. I generally stick to a teaspoon or two, but feel free to tweak that until itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just as you like it. 4. Finish off with a dash of milk. Adding more milk will make the whole drink smoother and counteract the coffee taste. If you prefer milkshake to coffee, go crazy. You can also skip the milk entirely for a more Spartan, but equally tasty drink.

RECIPE

FUSILLI SALAD WITH FLAKED COD, BLACK OLIVES, TOMATO AND ROSEMARY INGREDIENTS

PREPARATION

500g fusilli 300g desalted cod 100g pitted black olives 3 firm salad tomatoes Borges Olive oil Salt

1. Flake the raw cod and put by. 2. Cut the olives into thin strips and put by. Cut a cross in the bottom of each tomato, blanch for 30 seconds in boiling water and then plunge into cold water. Peel the tomatoes, remove the seeds and cut the flesh into cubes. 3. To make the romesco sauce, simply grind or blend all the ingredients together. Bake the tomatoes and garlic on an oven tray with a little Borges olive oil at 180 ºC for about 20 minutes. Boil the pasta as indicated on the packet. 4. Strain and mix with the romesco sauce, making sure all the pasta is coated with the sauce. 5. Finish off with the flaked cod, tomato cubes and sliced olives.

For the Romesco sauce: 1 roast tomato 3 roast cloves of garlic A handful of toasted hazelnuts A teaspoonful of cayenne pepper A pinch of hot chilli pepper The flesh of a blanched ñora (dried) red pepper A slice of fried bread A dash of vinegar 100 ml extra-virgin olive oil A teaspoonful of salt Starter or single-course meal Average difficulty Serves 6 person 30 minutes

TIPS If you don’t have time to make the romesco sauce, use a readymade Mediterranean dressing instead. Salads are one of the most versatile meals around, since you can mix together a wide range of ingredients. If you’ve got some chicken, cut it into small pieces instead of the cod. For a fresh twist, try an Oriental dressing.

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FEATURE

POLLEN STREET SOCIAL WORDS BY

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Ciara Geary

FEATURE

or these very reasons it was completely understandable that my two friends, who were over visiting me for a girls’ weekend, were both worrying about what was appropriate to wear to ensure that they “fitted in”. Both busy working mums, and looking forward to some girl time with leisurely lunches, shopping, and taking in the London sights; I had to take them to Pollen Street Social. These are two amazing ladies who each have a baby under the age of two, and often tell me how they never have the opportunity to enjoy a meal in peace anymore. Mealtimes for them are more akin to redecorating their kitchens with scrambled eggs or pasta sauce than savouring their meals and enjoying conversation! Having been introduced to Pollen Street Social by a friend who was a chef at one of Jason Atherton’s other London restaurants — Berners Tavern, it has become one of my favourite spots in London. I’ve been there for business lunches and dates and knew this was the perfect location where we could enjoy a relaxed lunch, with delicious food, in a perfectly choreographed event where gaps between courses are perfectly timed to allow you to savour the meals, as well as enjoy conversation. There is nothing For me, coming from rushed or busy about a meal here.

an architecture and design background, I was instantly drawn in by the design. The restaurant housed within two adjoining Georgian townhouses tucked away on a quiet street in Mayfair, just oﬀ Regent Street.

Pollen Street Social is the Flagship restaurant of chef Jason Atherton, who started out working under chefs such as Marco Pierre White and, most notably, Gordon Ramsay. He spent 10 years working for the Gordon Ramsay Group launching ‘Maze’ in London, another Michelin star winner, before launching his own restaurant group, The Social Company. Just six months after opening Pollen Street Social, it was awarded a coveted Michelin star. It has since gone on to receive 5 AA Rosettes by the AA Guide, named The Good Food Guide’s ‘Best New Restaurant’ and hailed the third best restaurant in the UK.

diffused light. The restaurant was designed by uber cool, Shanghai-based, , and they have managed to create a space which is almost homely and domestic, yet sleek, airy, and modern, while still retaining the elegance that you would expect of fine dining.

For me, coming from an architecture and design background, I was instantly drawn in by the design. The restaurant housed within two adjoining Georgian townhouses tucked away on a quiet street in Mayfair, just off Regent Street. The first encounter with the restaurant is the striking blackened bronze framed façade. Framing a combination of transparent and translucent glass which ensures visual links between diners and the life of the street beyond, while also flooding the dining space with ambient

As the name suggests, it’s social by name social as well as by nature. Upon entering into the Social Room, you are greeted by the warm, bubbly hosts, who treat you like a friend they’ve not seen in a while. They lead us through the restaurant, past the dessert bar (yes, that’s a thing, and a delicious place at that) to our table by the window. The staff were quick to make us completely at home, offering us cushions and some little wooden tables for sit our handbags on, obviously!

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And then the show begins. First, the sommelier with the cocktail menu. Once we have ordered our aperitifs, our waitress appears with the menus. Lunch at Pollen Street Social is a steal, three courses for £37. It almost doesn’t seem possible. That’s cheaper than most lunches you can get in London, but let me assure you, it’s a thousand times better. But the best part about the lunch, is that it isn’t just three courses. It’s actually many more tasting dishes and appetizers which keep you wanting more, and wondering how they are going to better the last. We made our orders. To start I went for the Norfolk quail, with summer vegetables, summer cabbage pesto, and duck tea broth. The girls both chose the heirloom tomato salad, with ricotta, black olive, spring herbs and verjus, followed by Hebridean halibut with confit datterini tomatoes, black olive, and basil for mains, and finishing off with elderflower cream with Brogdale farm berries, wild strawberry sorbet, topped off with a yogurt and pepper meringue.

But what came first was a beautiful art deco style display with the delicious amuse-bouche, which included a smoked salmon with salmon roe, beetroot purée, and cucumber and dill. These were followed by a second amuse-bouche of mushroom tea with parmesan foam. The sweet and light broth of the mushroom mixed with the salty parmesan was an explosion of flavours on the palate. This was accompanied by freshly baked bread and the creamiest butter I’ve tasted. When the starters came out, they were so beautifully presented that we almost didn’t want to eat them! While I generally try to avoid being one of those Instagrammers that takes photos of their food, it was impossible not to take a snap of the food at Pollen Street Social. I’m no Gastro-photographer like Sean Mallia, but the diffused lighting and the beautiful presentation made me feel as if I was, if even for a split second! Following the starter, we enjoyed another cocktail each, and were afforded some time to enjoy conversation which, by order of the two yummy mummies, was strictly not to include talk of babies! Just as the 14 CIBUS | aUgUSt 2018

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conversation began to head in the direction of little humans and their many, many demands, we were saved by the arrival of yet another beautifully presented meal. The halibut, light and beautifully cooked, melted in your mouth and was perfectly complimented by the flavours of the tomato and basil. Before our dessert, we were presented with a light sorbet palate cleanser. Delicious and fresh, it paved the way for one of the most delicious desserts Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve had, second only to a rhubarb dessert I had there a few months ago! After scraping our plates clean, and simultaneously wanting more while being unable to eat another bite, we sat back to relax. The finishing touch to our meal was the presentation of a selection of petit fours; white chocolate macaroons, chocolate pralines, and a Bakewell tart, which certainly wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t petit! Finally, to escape the ensuing food comas, we opted for some teas and coffees to keep us going for our afternoon shopping, but here even a simple green tea is the most amazing presentation.

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Our waitress wheeled over the fresh mint tea trolley, and proceeded to cut off the leaves and popping them into the teapot and filling it with hot water from the most impressive burco boiler I’ve seen! Certainly, an amusing way to finish the meal. I absolutely love Pollen Street Social, and now so do the girls(and anyone else whom I have taken along). The food is delicious, inventive, and beautiful. I feel like I have unearthed a secret in London in Pollen Street Social. The lunch menu leaves me wondering how they make their money, perhaps they made a typo with the price. But I’m not planning on telling them, and instead, I’m going to continue finding reasons why I can go back every few months to sample their new menus. Perhaps some of my beloved Maltese friends will come to visit London and I’ll just have to take you there.

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JAMIE AND THE FLAT PEACH WORDS BY

jamie iain genovese

nd if you’re thinking of making a Call Me by Your Name reference, uh, don’t. We’re using the peaches for food. Flat peaches are also called saturn peaches, doughnut peaches, saucer peaches UFo peaches, belly-up peaches, hat peaches, pita peaches, bagel peaches, pumpkin peaches, and, uh, custard peaches. and more. all these names given for their shape, except for custard peach which might have to do with their colour which is a paler yellow than a normal peach. Their skin is lighter and far less fuzzy. most notably, they were featured in the famous ancient Chinese novel Journey to the West, when the jade emperor asked the monkey King Wukong to take care of the “Pan Tao Yuan”, the “garden of the Flat Peaches”. Long story short, sun Wukong ate the peaches and gained immortality.

Unfortunately, we cannot report that flat peaches grant immortality, it might only work for monkeys born of a special stone on top of a special mountain. They’ve since gained worldwide popularity and happen to grow particularly well in the maltese climate. They’re in season right now, so you should definitely get your hands on them while you still can. You could eat them like any other peach, just naked and fresh while in your kitchen, or walking through a garden, or on a picnic by the sea. or, and i do recommend this, you could serve them with crème fraiche and a drizzle of good old maltese honey.

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FOUR T

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WORDS BY

DANNY COlEIrO

nd what I found out is that the Internet doesn’t have all that much to say about this particular length of time. Turns out, there’s not a lot that one can do in fourteen minutes – or at least, not enough to bother sharing with the world wide web in general, or, more specifically, with people like me who google random stuff like ‘fourteen minutes’. I learned that there’s a nineties country and western song called ‘Fourteen Minutes Old’, performed by some guy with a mullet called Doug Stone… (I mean the singer was called Doug Stone, of course, not the mullet. I have no idea what the mullet was called…) … so, I hung around until the first chorus, decided that it sounded like every country and western twostep ever written, remembered that I didn’t particularly like country and western music anyway, and hurried back whence I’d come.

Almost always, anyway.

I discovered that, back in 2007, world-class longdistance runner Alberto Salazar suffered from a massive heart attack, and that his heart actually stopped beating for fourteen minutes. This impressed him so much that he wrote a book about it, and it’s available online from all the usual suspects… you know… if you’re the kind of person who has a keen interest in both… er… marathons and… um… cardiovascular situations. Fourteen minutes, it seems, is how long it takes a message to get from Mars to Earth, and this is probably the most interesting fact I found out today. For the football fans out there, however, you might like to know that, by the time some radio programme host in Switzerland decided to actually start counting - which was roughly after Brazil’s fourth match - player Neymar da Silva Santos Junior had spent a total of fourteen minutes of this year’s World Cup rolling around on the floor in faux agony. And finally, for anyone who may need to complete something within that particular time-frame, there’s a countdown timer available which will help them do so. And that’s pretty much it. Nowhere on the ‘Net does it say, for example, that you can make a rather tasty pizza from scratch in fourteen minutes. 22

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Then again, it doesn’t say that you can’t make a pizza from scratch in fourteen minutes either, and that’s just as well, because I just did. It was delicious and crispy and hit all the spots I was hoping it would, which makes the recipe worth sharing with the world in general, and, more specifically, with people who have a penchant for pizza and for reading articles printed in illustrious publications which use clever words like ‘penchant’ while making it seem effortless. And all this should go a long way towards explaining why I googled ‘fourteen minutes’ in the first place, and, indeed, all of the above. There is, after all, method in the madness.

I have an amazing pizza dough recipe, which I’m not going to give you. Sorry. It needs two hours of resting time followed by twelve hours of rising and then another hour out of the fridge in order to get back to room temperature. And yes… it’s so good that one can become fluent in Italian simply by biting into it. But it does require a certain amount of planning ahead, and that’s just not going to work at all when you’re hit by a pizza craving at inconvenient o’ clock in the afternoon on a Sunday, and suddenly and desperately need a slice of crispy goodness, like… right now. You can substitute with cheese on toast all you like, and may even try fooling yourself by cutting it into neat little triangles, but we all know that it’s not even a close second.

So… a fourteen-minute pizza. I came across the recipe for the dough online, and tweaked it a little to suit myself. It involves Greek yogurt. And self-raising flour. And that’s it. Yes, I know. Trust me… I was sceptical too. I like food. I like cooking it, I like experimenting with it, and I love eating it. I have a couple of certificates in a drawer somewhere to prove that I kind of know what I’m doing, and I have an expanding waistline which shows that I kind of like what I do. As a chef, I’m fully aware that, in the kitchen, there are things that you should do, and things that you shouldn’t. As a guy messing around at home, however, I’m aware that there’s an awfully wide space between the extremes of ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, and plenty of room to play. You shouldn’t doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t, and if need be, I’m perfectly happy to cut corners and take shortcuts, and mess around with alternatives and substitutes until the original ‘classic dish’ is no

RECIPE

longer what it started out to be, but something else entirely. I am, by no means, a food snob. And while I’m at it, let me be the first to admit that, yes, I happen to quite like pineapple on pizza, especially when I’m in the mood for… well… pineapple on pizza. After all, why not? Layering flavour is all about getting ingredients to compliment, and interact with, each other. Acidity and sweetness are the best of friends, which is why most tomato sauces have a tablespoon of sugar sprinkled into them. Fancy the tangy juiciness of pineapple on your pizza? Then add less sugar to the sauce, and go nuts. It also works wonders with the saltiness of the ham or gammon, so purists be damned. So, if a pizza dough made out of yogurt works, then I’m all for it. Is it as good as a pizza dough that has sat in the fridge for twelve hours? No. But it does come a close second, and what makes it even better is that you can be happily munching on a pizza while the referee, the opposing team and the rest of the world are still waiting for Neymar to stop flopping around on the floor. Here’s how… Start with the tomato sauce… spoon a couple of tablespoons of tomato puree into a bowl, and add a splash of water, a pinch of mixed herbs (or any herb of your choice), a dash of white wine vinegar and a squirt of maple syrup (yes, yes, I know, but trust me on this) and mix it all together. Set it aside and get started on the dough. You’ve got thirteen minutes to go. Tip a 150g tub of Greek yogurt into a mixing bowl and add 175g of self-raising flour and a pinch of salt to it. Use a hand mixer equipped with dough hooks – or a wooden spoon if you don’t have one - to mix it all together for half a minute. Liberally dust your worktop with flour, then tip out the mixture and knead it for a couple of minutes until it comes together into a ball. If it’s still a bit sticky, add a tad more flour. That’s the dough sorted, and you’re roughly five minutes in. Rub a bit of oil over the bottom of a cast iron skillet – you could always use a normal frying pan here, but cast-iron skillets are just 24

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so seriously cool – and whack it on the hob on a high heat. While you’re at it, turn the overhead grill in your oven on. Now to sort out your toppings. I used fresh mozzarella on mine, and sliced pepperoni, and fresh basil, but you can pretty much top it with anything you like. Pineapple would probably go down a treat. Eight minutes to go, and the pan is now hot enough. Roll out your dough. Leaving it too thick makes it a bit chewy, so unless chewy is your thing, then the thinner the better for a nice crispy crust. Lift it gently, and plop it in the pan. Don’t worry if it tears or gets misshapen… you can push it into shape once it’s in place. Now use a ladle to spread the tomato sauce, and top it with a drizzle of olive oil. Then add your toppings one at a time, leaving out the ones that don’t need cooking. Season with salt and pepper, and you’re sorted. Let it toast away nicely for the next four to five minutes. In the meantime, you can go online and check if you’ve received any messages from Mars or something. You’ve still got roughly four minutes left. Once the bottom is crisp and slightly browned – you can use a spatula to check – grab the skillet and toss it under the grill. If you’re using a frying pan and the handle isn’t heat resistant, you might want to transfer the pizza to a baking tray first. Whatever you do, leave it there for about three minutes, or until the cheese is melted and golden, and everything’s looking yummy. Add whichever parts of the topping you left out earlier, plate it, slice it, and bam! Pizza for one. That’s fourteen minutes. And that’s that. Mars has just sent a message, Alberto Salazar’s heart has just started beating again, and you’re just about to bite into a triangle of crispy goodness. As for Neymar… the World Cup has been over for a while now, but for all I know, he could still be rolling around on the floor clutching his shins. Maybe someone should tell him that France won.

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TOKYO FRIED HOUSE TWO PERSPECTIVES ON ONE DINNER AT TOKYO FRIED HOUSE, ST. JULIAN’S WORDS BY

Alison CiliA Werdmölder AND JAmes CAmilleri

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As much as I love sushi, it’s such a great pity to me that that’s pretty much the majority of the Japanese cuisine we’re exposed to here in Malta. I may not know much about what else their cuisine entails, but I don’t need to know what I’m missing to know that some of it has got to be pretty darn good. Tokyo Fried House is a restaurant in Paceville which recently opened with the intention of sharing another slice of the country of the rising sun’s food scene. As for a menu we were a bit lost, not because the menu was at all difficult to understand but because we wanted to try a lot, and weren’t sure where to begin. A quick word with the waitress and some inquiries to the chef and we were settled. We wished to pay roughly 100 between us (minus drinks) and she would decide our menu for us. A quick word about drinks before I move onto the meal itself: we all drank import beer, it was very good with a helpful flavour profile chart in the menu, but being a Japanese import expect to pay close to five euros a bottle.

Our first dish was a gyoza dish, a form of fold-over dumpling which I know and very much love. I was not disappointed, but then it would be a very sad day if a gyoza were to disappoint as they are fairly straightforward, for a trained chef or Asian grandmother at least. The soy sauce it was served with was not the one I am used to, but this wasn’t a bad thing.

I have a confession to make. I like food. I, like, really like food. Some people would even call me a foodie (whatever the hell that means nowadays). Deep down, however, I’m afraid I’m a bit of a sham. Don’t get me wrong, I could bore you to tears talking about whisky, I think cappuccino after eleven is a criminal offence, and my idea of a holiday often includes the kind of bizarre and terrifying dishes one might encounter in a horror movie. Despite all that, when it comes down to the nitty gritty, my skills fail me. I can’t identify the fourteen different herbs and spices that have been expertly blended together in the curry I just ate. I honestly have no idea what you could cook with a lychee. I know so little about wine I embarrass myself. And yes, while I do genuinely enjoy sushi, the red one, the green one, and the one that looks like it’s dressed up for a New Year’s Eve party all taste predominantly of rice to me. This brutal realisation came to me as we sat around the table, poring over the menu and trying (in vain) to come to an agreement about what we should eat. I quickly realised I hadn’t the foggiest idea what any of this stuff was. The somewhat unfortunate menu design further mystified the process. I mean, it all looked very good, but for all I know they could have accidentally handed me a badly translated Dr Seuss book instead of a menu. I nodded along to the general discussion until someone had the brilliant idea of curing our indecision by letting the kitchen serve us whatever they felt like. Admittedly, this may have resulted in us eating four bowls of chips if they weren’t up to our 28

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shenanigans, but they were extremely accommodating and served a spread fit for an Emperor or two. The restaurant claimed to serve authentic Japanese food – the stuff people in Japan would actually eat – as an antidote to the glut of Westernised eateries clogging the streets. Time to buckle up, throw out our preconceived notions of Japanese food with yesterday’s trash, and sink our teeth into the good stuff. Three Guys, a Girl, and a Fry House. It may not quite have the same ring to it as the sitcom, but is at least a good recipe for a fun night. Jamie (the editor), James (another writer), Matt (a fellow foodie) and I planned an evening well in advance, and with much anticipation, and it was finally here. Off the bat we began with a great start: we were greeted by ice cold wet towels to wash our hands, a practice I’d be happy for many other restaurants adopt both for sanitary reasons and because in this heat the feeling of something cold at your pulse points is so instantly refreshing.

I arrived late. Parking in Paceville is its own special circle of hell, and a massive crane seemed to have sprouted out of the fizzling tarmac in just the right spot to cause uncontainable mayhem. A few deep breaths and an ice-cold Japanese beer later, and I was good to go. A wet towel to clean up with was all well and good, but I didn’t seem to have a paper napkin. I hate eating without having something to wipe my mouth with, so this was a tad distressing, but it seems you’re allowed to use the towel to wipe your mouth too. (Using it to wipe your neck and behind your ears is, understandably, frowned upon.) I’m not quite convinced, but I could slowly get used to it. The eating utensil of choice here was a pair of chopsticks, and while I do have some competence in wielding them I could foresee cramps in peculiar places by the end of the meal. I’m sure forks are available however, should you value your comfort more than your pride. Our first dish was a gyoza dish, a form of fold-over dumpling which I know and very much love. I was not disappointed, but then it would be a very sad day if a gyoza were to disappoint as they are fairly straightforward, for a trained chef or Asian grandmother at least. The soy sauce it was served with was not the one I am used to, but this wasn’t a bad thing. I had never heard of gyoza before, but they seemed like your standard everyday dumpling affair. Steamed, slightly soggy, slightly meaty, and altogether rather nice it turned out. A great start to the meal, and, a welcome change from the usual sushi genre, completely devoid of rice.

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I suppose this was inevitable really. You can’t expect to go Right after these were quickly demolished the next two dishes through a whole Japanese meal without having some sushi rolling arrived: the ‘assorted cold appetizers’ and the edamame beans in on to your table. As our server noticed our bemused faces she garlic. The former was quite an interesting combination of pickled seemed to panic and asked: “you eat sushi, right?” We assured her vegetables, mashed potato, and brown seaweed. I quite enjoyed that we did, and proceeded to eat it with gusto. It was nice, but the different pickles in particular, but while the mash was good I pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. Then again, you already know my felt it to be quite extra, and if you like me are a little fussy about stance on sushi – it was a subtly-tasting and refreshing course, but the texture of food the seaweed may not be for you. Meanwhile I I can’t shake off this niggling suspicion that sushi is just a ate an equal amount of edamame beans as the three men combined conspiracy by the global rice conglomerate. (proof in the pile of pods on our plates). They have a super simple flavour profile, like a bean version of garlic Now what I was really looking forward to was the bread, but the laughs definitely came with ‘Deluxe Fried’ platter, just because I was quite curious their eating; picking up a bean pod with to see how their Tonkatsu and Hirekatsu would your chopsticks you have to put the pointy compare with the chicken katsu we all know and love end in your mouth and squeeze out the bean The chef’s pièce de from a popular Asian-fusion food chain. The answer: within. If you’re good with chopsticks you’ll résistance was the quite well! These are made with Japanese pork cutlet soon get into the rhythm of it but a few Deluxe Fried platter. The and pork tenderloin cutlet respectively, but honestly beans may be dropped on the way, which to contents of this dish aside from the variation in shape they were pretty much me is a hilarious positive to the dish. were both utterly alien the same: tasty, breaded meat. The sauce was a welcome to me and comfortingly change to that from the aforementioned food chain, a Next up was a sort of do-it-yourself salad familiar. The former, dark thick glaze with a sweet and sour element. kit. There was some unidentifiable pickled because I had never However, for me the final on the platter was the strong yellow vegetable with a peculiar (but not before encountered a winner; Karaage described by the menu as ‘Japanese unpleasant) flavour, a couple of reliable slices meat-katsu of any form fried chicken, made by marinating in sake, soy sauce, of bell pepper, and a tangled mass of brown before, and the latter ginger and garlic’. The added flavour was subtle yet seaweed. Oh, and some kind of potato thing because it was basically complimentary, the chicken ridiculously juicy and the which was quite unremarkable. The seaweed fried meat. batter perfectly crispy and salty. The sauce served with was quite particular on the other hand, with the platter was indicated to be meant specifically for the a tangy flavour vaguely reminiscent of your pork and I understand why, while it also went ok with standard pre-packaged green stuff but the karaage too, the chicken absolutely didn’t need any unusual enough to warrant your attention. addition of flavour. Special mention: the ‘Deluxe Fried’ platter was Alas, picking up tiny bits of crunchy seaweed with chopsticks is served to us by the chef with a bowl of rice (purchased separately) not a strong suit of mine I wouldn’t have minded a slightly bigger and a pile of shredded cabbage and carrot on the plate. The rice mouthful. Speaking of chopsticks, the partner dish to the cold was perfect as a filler with the sauce, but we were also offered a vegetables was a real test of my skill – one which I failed surprisingly delicious sesame sauce for on the cabbage which I ate abysmally. Edamame beans, which are served still in their pod, loads of. I think it was pretty simple, tahini thinned down with somehow need to be coaxed down your throat using a what I believe to be lemon and a touch of spice added, but simple combination of teeth, chopsticks, and grim determination. I had is often all you need. It went down a treat with the other flavours trouble with the most basic of tasks – getting the slippery little on the plate, and lightened the heaviness of all the fried food and things from the serving bowl into my plate – and it spiralled rice. downwards from there. They tasted ok I suppose, akin to what I imagine sad peas would taste like, but I can’t say it was worth the The chef’s pièce de résistance was the Deluxe Fried platter. The hassle of eating them. contents of this dish were both utterly alien to me and comfortingly familiar. The former, because I had never before A twenty-piece sushi platter was brought out, debatably to be encountered a meat-katsu of any form before, and the latter included in either the appetizer or main course category. As we because it was basically fried meat. Pork (two cuts, although I were sharing the platter for us it was the former, but if one of your couldn’t really tell the difference) and chicken, to be precise. The party has only just accustomed themselves to sushi and is not ready chicken was superb. I’m always wary of ordering chicken at a to venture further into the Japanese cuisine just yet, this could be restaurant – I have a perpetual fear of being served dry, bonea good main. It had four nigiri pieces (salmon and tuna) and white misery, and I honestly think chicken is a tad boring. This sixteen roll pieces of two sorts. They were all pretty decent though piece of poultry, however, was a masterpiece: juicy and bursting the nigiri definitely stood out as superior as the rolls were pretty with flavour. I cannot recommend it enough. Clearly, basic.

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Japanese cuisine extends far beyond rice-rolls.The pork was pleasant, though not as ground-breaking as the chicken. Breaded, battered and fried, it was hearty without being overly greasy. It felt similar, in concept, to a Viennese schnitzel, but somehow more exciting. The gloopy brown sauce that came with it added a good kick on top of that. Hardly fine dining, but tasty and very satisfying. Next up was one of the rice bowls, ‘BBQ Beef & Pork Don’ grilled and served over rice with kimchi and more shredded cabbage (which as you may have guessed I scooped up as a carrier for more sauce). This main was quite satisfying in that the meat were very juicy, with veg and kimchi to cut through the heaviness creating good balance, I only wish there had been a little more kimchi, I truly love the stuff.

bacon. It was bacon with ginger and magic, bacon in ways I’ve never experienced before. I think bacon is generally one of humanity’s better contributions to the universe, but this thing really raised the bar. Alison makes a valid point, and I probably wouldn’t eat a whole plate of it outright… but then again, it was really good bacon, so I might. This is probably not the spirit of the meal, but I can bet that a plate of this and some crispy fries after a night on the town would hit the spot amazingly.

And now, the moment of truth. We had assumed we had ‘used up’ our 100 euro deal with the chef, and were deliberating over full tummies what the ‘Dessert Platter’ would look like were we to share it, when out the very thing came from the kitchen. Now I have a rule of judgement when it comes to restaurants of specialised cuisines: it all comes down to their respect of the dessert. A lot of places, An enticing bundle of crunchy-looking meat knowing that few will order it and followed, cushioned by rice and cabbage. There not ready for the hassle of more dishes was also a reddish pile of stuff I couldn’t recognise. At this point the chef popped out to cook, settle for simply having the This turned out to be kimchi, a dish of pickled to check if we were full or would international favourite of ice cream on cabbage and other vegetables. I took quite a liking like one more main to share, we the menu. While this is a good to this, it tasted like a vastly improved version of decided that despite being full we dessert, to me it is a sorry end to a sauerkraut – a dish I have always regarded with would like another main just foreign meal if there’s no option to some suspicion. Kimchi is actually a Korean dish because we were enjoying the end on a complimentary sweet. (one they are intensely proud of) but it often food so much, and within minutes Tokyo Fried House did not makes an appearance in Japanese cuisine the waitress was out with ‘Shouga disappoint. We were served a large [EDITOR’S NOTE: Often as Kimuchi, this is a Yaki’ described as Japanese scoop of ‘Yuzu ice cream with plum sensitive subject, apparently]. It paired splendidly ginger pork; cooked in soy sauce, wine’, ‘Matcha Mousse’, along with a with the delicate sesame sauce provided, and also mirin, and ginger. I’m going to be piece each of ‘Royce Nama Choco’ complemented the barbecued meats well. The honest and say this was very a matcha infused chocolate. They beef and pork in the dish tasted, I suppose, like much like fancy saucy bacon. were all great, the mousse the least most Asian meat dishes would be expected to. I’m favourite due to a slightly gelatinous not sure if this is a result of my lack of experience texture, but still happily finished. The with the cuisine, a general flavour overload by this chocolate was enjoyable, but I didn’t point, or just because Japanese food is supposed to like it half as much as my companions taste like this. It was good, but the novelty in the did, so I let them rave on about it while I snuck a few extra dish could mostly be attributed to the kimchi. spoonfuls of the Yuzu ice cream which I loved. It was similar to a somewhat tangy citrus sorbet, I’d almost compare its flavour to At this point the chef popped out to check if we were full or sherbet fizz but more natural, a perfect end to a heavy meal. would like one more main to share, we decided that despite being full we would like another main just because we were enjoying Of course, “full” is only a vague indication where dessert is the food so much, and within minutes the waitress was out with concerned. There is always space for dessert, even after a meal like ‘Shouga Yaki’ described as Japanese ginger pork; cooked in soy the one we’d just had. Tokyo Fried House offered a dessert platter sauce, mirin, and ginger. I’m going to be honest and say this was – although what it contained was left up to the guests to discover. very much like fancy saucy bacon. In fact, in the photo on the The three items on the plate before us were definitely intriguing: menu it appears to be back bacon, while our serving was clearly an ice-cream or sorbet, a mousse-like concoction, and a few little streaky. This is not a complaint, I love bacon and the flavourings green cubes which definitely piqued my interest. The ice-cream were fantastic, but I maybe wouldn’t have wanted it as my only was light and fresh, almost like a sorbet, with a subtle taste that’s main had I not been sharing. hard to pin down. The yuzu, which is a Japanese citrus fruit, contributes to the freshness, and is probably what reminded me of Full? Full is when you can’t walk anymore. We asked for one sorbet in the first place. I was never one for mousses, and this more plate, and lo and behold – it was bacon. It was excellent 32

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one didn’t particularly sway my inclinations. The taste was rather unremarkable. The little chocolates, on the other hand I found to be very impressive. They were green, for a start, which not quite what one would expect from chocolate, and the flavour was different enough from anything I’d ever tasted to surprise me. A very buttery opening flavour eventually gave way to an herbal aftertaste which lingered pleasantly on the back of the tongue. Maybe not chocolate in the strictest sense, but a perfect way to wrap up a meal. I am not well-versed in the process and lore of matcha tea, and after this taste-bud-tickling little wonder-package I am convinced to correct this oversight. While not the cheapest meal, coming in at roughly 35 per person once drinks were added, it could definitely have come in at less had we not drank fancy import beer and eaten so many appetisers. I’d definitely recommend sharing dishes especially if it’s your first time there, you get to get to know a lot more flavours that way, but it would also be fine not to if you are confident in what you like. We were very well served by our waitress and chef, and the ambience of the place was relaxed and not loud. My biggest fear for the place was the fact that ‘Fried’ is literally in the name, and my body doesn’t do so well with very heavy foods. It turned out I didn’t have to be worried, nothing was overly greasy, just the perfect amount, and I woke up no more bloated than after any other restaurant visit. Overall, I’m quite certain I’ll be back at Tokyo Fried House fairly soon, and it’s also inspired me to look into some new Japanese recipes to make at home! Special Mention: the bathrooms are equipped with Japanese toilets. Yes, the ones with all the buttons and functions. Tokyo Fried House is an intriguing institution. It offers a range of foods you’re unlikely to find elsewhere, alongside good renditions of some more popular dishes. The place has quite a casual air, and you’d be equally at home having some grandiose oriental banquet (as we did), or just nipping a quick bite of some newfound guilty pleasure whilst roaming the Paceville badlands. Oh, and they do takeaway. They also have a significant selection of Japanese whiskies and sake, if you’re into that sort of thing – or want a relaxed place to ease yourself into the habit. I’ll definitely be back to sample some of the more esoteric dishes on offer, but it’s good to know that you don’t need to be a fan of weirdness on your plate (or a fauxfoodie) to appreciate what’s on offer.

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RUE DE

MALTE

WORDS BY

JAMIE IAIN GENOVESE

You wake up somewhere entirely diﬀerent. Boulevards and avenues and trees on every street. No airconditioning, but it’s late July and you’re feeling ﬁne.

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LOCAL Warm scents of bread, charming, young, French-speaking Parisians surrounded by glorious treats. This was my experience at Utopie, a boulangerie in the 11th arrondissement. A wonderful place to pick up good French snacks for my day and a wonderful place period to find on my first holiday in a long, long while. To enjoy the classic French of the Casse-Croute, the savoir faire, is a joy – from the classic flans, roulades to all varieties of loaf or quiche. And it is there that I saw and tasted new things like basil-flavoured dessert with strawberries. But, like all holidays, it came and went all too soon and I found myself back in Malta with a renewed zeal for my appetite to write about food. And write I did. It is easy to make a holiday abroad sound nice, to wax lyrical about a city like Paris. But Malta has its charms, it can – despite all odds – still persist to be beautiful. Beautiful things, however, are often not recognised enough. Not only do we not appreciate our traditional bakeries, with their loves of wonderful Maltese bread, in favour of pre-sliced and sugary loaves of white bread, but we don’t often know when we’ve got it good. And, as much as I can praise Utopie in Paris, I cannot do so without first praising Fre{n}sh.

ore than fine – you’re feeling great. You look out the window of a small studio and you see the early morning light casting its pale blue light on early-risers, on foot and in cars, on bicycle and bench. You hop in the shower, with warm water shooting down your back and flattening your matted bed-head into a sleek shape and you lather in foam that you, and this is important, make sure to not get into your eyes, because this is going to be a good day. Some, of course, inevitably does because it’s still a little early in the day and you didn’t rinse properly before you splashed water on your face.

Part of one of Malta’s prettiest buildings, the Balluta Buildings, Fre{n}sh is Balluta’s home for freshly baked goods of the calibre of Bretagne’s best patisseries. Much like in Paris, the mornings are best so that you may get the freshest crop. Unlike Paris, however, lines don’t seem to form around the block. And that, my friends (and critics) is undoubtedly a travesty second only to the often-dwindling liveliness of our own traditional bakeries. Fre{n}sh is owned by two partners in crime: Steven Cutajar (born and raised in Alpine, France, and the son of a fine-dining chef), and Bretagne-born Vincent Cacho, the two head Fre{n}sh with the hope to grow the shop and name into a fully-fledged boulangerie, to sell not only pastries but bread as well, freshly-made.

You’re out, dressed, clean shirt and trousers, if a little casual, dressed down with sneakers. You head out, and you’re at the boulangerie.

How peculiar, and special, that French casse-croute could be done so finely here in Malta. A single bit of viennoiserie could so potently link the ‘me’ in the piazza of Balluta to the ‘me’ that was in the square Jules Ferry, slowly savouring two boxes of treats in the shade of a tree, a stone’s throw away from Rue de Malte.

Oh, yeah, we’re in Paris, by the way.

It is nothing short of a blessing, a happy one at that.

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