Ed eats
Piccolo Padre
194 Main Street,
St Julian’s
Tel: 2134 4875
Food: 8/10
Service: 8/10
Ambience: 9/10
Value: 10/10
Overall: 9/10
I sometimes think I will run out of patience with that dear friend who asks me the question I loathe so much and happens to be the one whose innocent query breaks this camel’s back. The question is simple, innocent, and totally harmless.
Piccolo Padre combines wholesome food, value, service and location in a package that is hard to beat
Yet being asked the same question over and again wears me down. “What’s the best restaurant around,” I’m all too frequently asked. All I would like is some context.
If the question is a bit more specific, I could probably answer without any hesitation or irritation.
If one were to ask me what the best place to grab a quick ftira at lunchtime, that is priced accordingly, that will do so quickly enough to preserve the sanctity of one’s lunch hour, and that is in the Birkirkara region, I will without hesitation recommend Andrew’s Bar.
To me that place deserves an easy 9/10. They fulfil every one of their promises and therefore cannot do much to improve their offering.
If the person in question wants something a little fancier – perhaps wild boar mortadella and smoked scamorza in her sandwich – I would recommend another star of the region that goes by the appropriate name of Stuzzico. Another source of divine lunchtime sustenance that leaves change from €5 (although less change than Andrew’s bar).
On the other end of the spectrum I am ruthless with pretentious places that promise delights fit for the deities upon Mount Olympus and in fact offer gruel that even Cerberus would turn all three of his noses upon.
In short, any outlet that is prepared to exchange food for money has the potential to score top marks. And all they have to do is make good on their promises in every single aspect.
Matching the desires of the market is naturally another essential factor. The best cockroach-grilling fast-food outlet this side of Bangkok wouldn’t be as much of a hit in Malta than a burger-flipping outlet basking in the glow of its golden arches.
A restaurant that serves enormous portions of salty, carbohydrate-rich food at excellent prices and makes allowances for a hundred kids to have the run of the place will score very highly in the opinion of most of this market.
I am sure you can think of at least five immensely popular restaurants (and I am excluding fast-food franchises) in Malta that fulfil these criteria.
Have a look inside any one of them on any day of the week and they are bound to be packed solid. Are they fulfilling their promises? I guess so. And the people who patronise them and part with their hard-earned euros have evidently rated them highly.
Last week I popped into Piccolo Padre for a quick supper. It had to be quick because I had something to go to afterwards. I was also ravenous so whatever it was I’d be eating would have to fill the bottomless pit in my gut.
I was probably prepared to compromise on location and service at this point. I wanted plenty of food and, in the interest of the world around me, I needed it quite quickly.
I was unfairly lucky with the parking. It is normally easier to park a Hummer in a pedestrian area than it is around here, so my delight at a gaping spot just across the road verged on incredulity.
I skipped down the stairs to the restaurant still very pleased with myself and was met by a smiling man who asked whether we’d want a table outside or inside. We’d have to wait for a table outside but the wait wouldn’t be long, he claimed.
We sat on comfy little armchairs for about two minutes before another smiling man, menus in hand, told us our table was ready. On our way to the lovely terrace, every member of staff we passed by stood aside to let us pass and smiled at us politely. These people must be treated really well.
I have learned to recognise the difference between a contrived grimace and a genuinely welcoming smile. Everyone here was definitely in the latter category.
Our table was at the very end of the terrace so we were perched on top of the obsidian blackness of the sea beneath. The lights from across the bay twinkled to complete the picture of a Harry Potter animated postcard. My mood climbed another rung up the happy ladder.
The menus are quite complete and include plenty of relatively straightforward dishes to please most people. At this price range, one should not expect surprises. I came in looking for familiarity and that’s exactly what I found.
A page of starters that includes soups, salads and platters to share is followed by a number of ways with pasta, salads, meat and fish. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disappointed that the pizza section even included healthy options, with whole-grain dough and nutritious toppings. I quickly dismissed the pangs of guilt and chose to be favourably impressed.
As lovely as the menu sounded I was in the mood for pizza. Too hungry to think, I picked the Capricciosa – my knee-jerk reaction to delaying food for too long.
We decided we’d share a starter and chose a salad with octopus, shrimps and squid.
I have said this, and will say it again. I have never quite understood the point of spare ribs. There is so much more to an animal that I have never had the patience to pick at the meat between its ribs.
If I am ever sharing a meal with a lioness on the plains of the Serengeti I will pick at the ribs while she gets the flank. Until then however, I am happy to watch others twist and turn their way around their dish.
The cat across the table ordered ribs. She’s never had to compete with a bigger feline for supper.
The wine menu, also appropriate to the place, is not daunting or expensive. A bottle of Donnafugata would do and the young man who is serving it acts almost like I have picked something quite above this price range. He serves it with pride and brings a wine cooler.
This brings me to my only real gripe that evening – the table is a little too small to fit everything. I gave up the bread that we weren’t eating anyway to accommodate the cooler.
Our salad was with us within minutes. The fishy bits are served cold and well dressed so we pick at the mound of squid andoctopus, searching for the prawns that were quite under represented, thoroughly enjoying the refreshing salad and the wine that made a delightfully felicitous coupling.
Minutes after we’d picked our salad clean, our main courses were whisked to our table, smiles and all.
Ribs, coated in a honey-based sauce were silently devoured before my eyes, the knife deftly picking the meat from the bones with expertise that had me worried. I preferred not to watch and dedicated my attention to the pizza on my plate, the base dry and crisp, the toppings generous and with copious amounts of cheese – perfectly suiting my lifelong claim that there can be no such thing as too much cheese.
I have paid thrice the pricefor a pizza in awfully pretentious surroundings only to bedisappointed.
I had no time nor room for dessert so had to pay the bill (just over €20 each) and leave.
As if that weren’t good enough value, the bill had a little note on it saying we were entitled to two hours of free parking just down the road.
The last time I went to Piccolo Padre, some inconsiderate bipeds had decided to launch loud and senseless petards from the bay beneath us, ruining the magic of the place. Fortunately, this madness only lasts a week.
On every other day of the year, Piccolo Padre combines wholesome food, value, service and location in a package that is hard to beat.
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