Graziella De Cesare - a tornado of passion and fun!

Il-Forn, art gallery and wine bar in Vittoriosa, is a tornado of creativity!

My guest, Graziella De Cesare, is a tornado of passion and fun!

We hit the place precisely at 8.30 on a Saturday evening, and we are among the first patrons to arrive. It is almost empty, except for a group of young people at the far end of the room, a middle-aged couple who are probably having their Saturday-night-out treat, and two lesbians sipping wine in an ultra relaxed posture.

A wafer-thin waiter clad in signature necrophilia black, and his colleague, a young lady with a charming smile, acknowledge our presence and guide us to “our” table. They carry the wine and food menus with them and place them on our table as if they have just started to play a game of domino.

The strength of Il-Forn is definitely in its arty environment. The beautiful paintings are a must-see and serve as a decorative garnish to this Aladdin’s cave. Every wall is bursting with colour exhibiting an array of eye-catching creations that have an experimental approach to them. The colours are overwhelming, the concepts intriguing, with details in these paintings exceeding expectations. I fall in love with the blues, which I guess could be the artist’s favourite colour.

The colour bounces off the walls onto the tables, where the owner has taken (lots) of time to turn boring wooden tables into exciting works of art. I love the tables, but I am not at all keen on the zebra draping along the bar area. To me it looks completely out of place, though I have to admit it is the first thing that captures my attention as I walk inside. Otherwise, the rooms are big and spacious, with a courtyard at the back.

Graziella is in a chirpy mood, and tells me all about her recent trips and projects that involve her production company. If she were a colour… she would be a rainbow. If she were a department store… she would be Harrods. If she were a drink… she would be a bottle of Soda Pop, bursting with energy and joie de vivre, fizzing and sparkling!

Her choice of outfit is chic yet simple enough not to appear studied. She wears a short, light brown leather jacket over a beige blouse that accentuates a busting bustline, and the most amazing, funky necklace I have set eyes on. Her blonde hair sports two colours, and is kept short giving her a very distinct appeal.

As she expertly goes through the wine list and can’t decide between a Grego di Tuffo and a Pinot Grigio Santa Margherita, I ask her the question. “What surname would you choose if you had to renounce to yours?”

“Oooh, that’s difficult,” she admits, momentarily lost in thought. But comes back strong after a couple of minutes: “Willis. ’Cause I just love Bruce!”

The nice waitress with the rosy cheeks and plump good looks comes over to take our order. Graziella opts for the Pinot Grigio, Santa Margherita, Trento Alto Adige (Phew!), priced at €20 and the Clementine Salad which is a combination of greens, brie, and Parma ham. I’m a little bit more of a pig so I go for the Wowi’s half open ftira with (check this!) tomatoes, green peppers, onions, beef, salami and Maltese sausage, spread on a bed of Mozarella and garnished with some special “Il-Forn tomato”.

Armed with the increased knowledge of Bruce-Willis-talk I leap at the opportunity of another multi-million dollar question. I ask her to list three things she would do to seduce a man. The De Cesare eye lashes flutter, acting as dramatic foil to her answer. “First thing I would do is make him laugh… and then…” The rest is censored!

The wafer-thin waiter, who looks like he has just stepped out of a musical, suddenly shows up with the Clementine salad, while his female colleague briskly pours the Pinot for Graziella to taste. She does it like a real pro, swirls the golden liquid, and licks her bullet-proof glossed lips in approval. We toast to a bright future, and surreptitiously nibble on some carrots until my open ftira arrives.

Graziella’s salad looks nice, and my open ftira looks equally nice. We decide to share our food, and we ask the waiter to bring us an extra plate. When he is back, Graziella asks if he can toast the bread for her. I discover that she only eats the crust and leaves the rest.

The open ftira is probably one of the most popular dishes at Il-Forn. Priced at €9.90 it is enough to feed you for three days, and though it does not rock my taste buds in a special way it gets my critical applause. The bread is perfectly toasted, and the flavours blend with each other. I am happy with my Wowi.

The Pinot Grigio Santa Margherita is nice, with a clean, intense aroma and a dry flavour that leaves a pleasant aftertaste. It is a wine of great character versatility.

The evening flows on with intense, rapid fire-talk and we bond just like Lawrence Gonzi bonds with the European Union. Although she comes from a background where financial problems belong to another life, she is down to earth, and downplays her role. Her life might be as colourful as a Jackie Collins novel, but she is a no-nonsense lady, who is self assured and confident about what she wants and who she is.

In the midst of some very emotional relationship-talk, I decide to dig deeper into her likes. “So,” I start off, sipping on the Pinot. “Who are you most likely to date? A misbehaved Swede, a well mannered Maltese gent with an “R” problem, or a Gozitan entrepreneur?”

“And who do you think?” she questions back.

My guess comes easy. The misbehaved Swede!

By this time Il-Forn is completely packed with patrons. I look around the busy wine bar and not one single table is unoccupied. So take this hint, and book your place for the weekend. They even have an answering machine service where you can leave your name and other reservation details, which I found very convenient.

The toilets are something I have never seen before. Original, to say it mildly! It looks like a big bed sheet has been pinned from wall to wall to form two tents. All you have to do is choose your tent and walk inside. And so I do… only, to find a masculine looking woman sitting on the toilet performing her duties: a sight, not even alcohol could block away. She is absolutely not amused. If looks could kill, I would be long dead and buried, and when she walks out she snaps at me in a gruff voice. I apologise profusely, and she grunts back in disdain. Now, I think she is dragging it too far, and I am honestly tempted to tell her to run to the closest pharmacy and buy herself a Gillette to shave off her moustache.

After this little incident I return to my guest, and we embark on a mini photo-shoot. Anybody watching must have seriously thought we were high on something, or completely nuts. It is a fun evening, and we pick the tab with a happy smile. The wine and food amount to €39.40, and we both seem ready to hit the sack. The staff at Il-Forn wish us a good night, and we step back out into the beautiful streets of Vittoriosa.

“One last question,” I say playfully, firing an impromptu question. “Would you rather milk a cow, or be called a cow?” I suddenly have visions of Graziella transformed into a little Heidi in the middle of a farm in Pennsylvania, sitting on a stool in dungarees and Wellington boots, smothered in manure, 20 cows waiting to be milked.

“Be called a cow,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Of course!”

RATING: 1 - 7

Wine - *****

Ambience ****

Food - ****

Service *****