Ed eats
Assaggi
Triq il-Qaliet
St Julian’s
Tel: 2133 6625
Food: 9/10
Service: 6/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 9/10
Overall: 8/10
Back when life was much simpler, when we were much more confused but probably happier, our sources of entertainment were incredibly less complex than they are now.
My irritation at the long waiting time evaporated as I consumed the fabulous soup
Games we played were probably more demanding but required little in terms of materials. As a kid, and while it feels like a long time ago it is but a flash when compared to how long we clothed apes have been around, our most complex games needed board and paper and dice to be played.
An eventful evening of entertainment and bickering could be contained inside a small, cardboard box labelled ‘Ludo’. A foldable, printed board, some game pieces, a couple of dice to roll, and friends or siblings who agreed to Ludo over Snakes and Ladders was all we needed.
I am probably expected to say we had much more fun back then but I won’t. I am happier with today’s games than I was back then.
Today I do not have to bribe my brother with Trump Cards if he does not feel like playing the game I want to play. ‘1,097,334 players online’ reads the counter at the bottom when I fire up my console. And that’s just for one game. The world is my oyster. Let’s shoot it to bits.
All this nostalgia for games I played as a child came about one night when having dinner at Assaggi in St Julian’s.
As the evening progressed, I could not help remembering the alternate elation and frustration I used to experience as a child when playing Snakes and Ladders. Up I climbed that evening, rung after rung of solid oak, reaching three levels higher than I’d started off at. Then I hit a snake and down I slither, almost back where I started. I’d better say this at the outset though. I am very happy I won in the end.
The first move was up a ladder. Calling to place a reservation, I asked about parking and they said they’d keep a slot for me. With a restaurant inside Dean Hamlet this is crucial as I’d otherwise have had to park at least10 minutes away.
Walking into Dean Hamlet to get to the restaurant is not exactly a step up the same ladder. The place feels like a residence and this does not bode well. Had I not heard good things about Assaggi, I might have been put off.
Stepping inside is a much more welcoming experience. High-backed chairs and well-laid tables are inviting, while two decanters on the bar provide the reassurance I needed that an evening of enjoyment was just about to start.
We were met at the door by a very pleasant young woman who showed us our table and asked whether we’d want an aperitif or whether we’d go straight to the wine list. I opted for the latter.
Menus turned out to be simple printed sheets with an interesting selection of dishes that are mainly composed of a few enticing ingredients in unusual combinations and paying attention to the cooking method. It is one of those menus that reveals a creative mind in the kitchen and I warmed up to the place.
The lovely woman returned after quite a while to take our orders. She had described the carne con l’osso as a T-Bone. The menu stated a forerib on the bone. It turns out the menu was right.
She told us the minimum portion size was of one kilo. I was not to be deterred. The description mentioned truffle butter.
The thought of a ribeye with truffle butter had my mind on a long, straight monorail that would not be shaken by the mere mention of seismic proportions.
Minutes later she returned, the meat in question in hand and it was truly an impressive slab of cow.
Beautifully marbled, clinging to the bone, evidence of a dozen days of dry ageing, and claimed by our hostess to weigh in at just over 1.2 kilos.
My pulse quickened and I committed this beauty to the waiting list for that special place in the museum of fine cow. This time not only was I undeterred, I was challenged.
Faint of heart, my partner in all things carnivorous chickened out, as it were. She cancelled the order for starters. No way was she giving up on this magnificent steak.
I was quite hoping I’d get to taste the Mozzarella di bufola with black pepper and smoked eel that she’d ordered initially because it sounded like an unusual but intriguing combination. I sat back, resigned to an immediate future devoid of smoked eel and mozzarella.
I ordered a cauliflower truffle soup with king scallop, another combination that promised magic in the mouth, and allowed my mind to resume its ride on the anticipatory monorail to what promised to be an unexpected feast.
The restaurant began to fill up quite quickly. We arrived at half past eight, knowing full well that I’d be terribly late to a wedding I was invited to.
I hardly ever risk torture by canapés, preferring to fill my belly with good food before I attend events that suffer the consequences of catering for the masses.
One man once fed ravenous masses when all he had at hand were a few loaves and a few fishes. Until today we call that a miracle.
By nine the place was heaving, and the two women manning the front of house drafted another couple of tables into service, the chef himself running out of the kitchen to help lay these tables.
More people accommodated here and soon there wasn’t room to swing a cat. Now I am not a fan of gyrating felines but I like to hear myself think, and the noise levels were approaching the rowdy.
An hour after we set foot inside the restaurant, the chef himself served an amuse bouche of pork belly, pea puree, and truffle oil. It was interesting but did not sweep us off our feet. We’d hardly finished the beautifully presented bite when the chef returned, whisking the empty plate away and replacing it with a soup bowl containing a lightly grilled king scallop.
Atop this he poured the cauliflower soup, and the resulting effect was that of a scallop iceberg, its tip above the soup promising hidden delights beneath the surface.
My irritation at the unusually long waiting time started to diminish with the first sip of soup and evaporated completely as I consumed, the fabulously balanced soup. Pronounced truffle, charred scallop, the occasional exclamation of freshly ground black pepper and the lively crunch of fresh watercress made this an immensely enjoyable dish.
Another very long wait separated us from our steak and my heart went out to the two women who did all they could to handle the entire service. When the meat made it to our table it had been grilled to medium-rare, with a beautifully charred exterior and a warm but uncooked interior.
It had been masterfully prepared, the truffle a mere hint that added to the experience without taking over. We’d ordered a bottle of Cerasuolo di Vittoria by the much fabled COS winery in Sicily and its perfumed intensity completed the picture perfectly. Sides were simple but tastefully presented Jerusalem artichoke, roast potato and spinach with Parmesan shavings.
I’d normally give up on dessert in these circumstances but there was plenty of evidence of a highly accomplished kitchen so, late as we were, full as we were, I ordered the duo of crème brulée and coffee toffee. Simple and understated, the duo is a perfect example of a disciplined restraint and they ended the meal beautifully.
I mentioned that we were running a bit late, and our hostess, who managed to smile throughout what must have been quite an ordeal, rushed the bill that had just hit the €100 mark for both of us. As I paid she apologised profusely for what she said must have been a slow service. They were short of staff that night she explained and went into some detail about the reasons.
And so my game of snakes and ladders ended. The parting note that explained the situation that night was the final ladder that led me to the topmost square and I emerged happily and smugly victorious.
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