A southern comfort

Ed eats

The Stuffed Olive
18-20, Marina Street,
Marsascala
Tel: 2163 3616

Food: 7/10
Service: 8/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 7.5/10

Marsascala, that I still insist on spelling with a ‘c’ in it, plays host to quite a large number of restaurants. Some are old stalwarts of the trade and have been around for as long as I can remember. Others seem to pop up and vanish in as long as it takes for me to remember their names.

The restaurant is about an infor­­mal comfort, a pic­turesque view, the reassurance you’re in good hands

The place is seasonal. I suppose the ones that make it are those that have the staying power to survive a quiet winter as well as the capacity to keep up with a busy summer. I’ve seen restaurants come and go.

Normally I’m not too upset about the ones that don’t make it and this should come as no surprise. If I’ve had a poor experience, then so have many others. And without repeat business, it will be quite a struggle for a restaurant to survive a winter.

One restaurant that I missed was called Al Kafe. Previously a coffee shop, the place had been taken over by a very able chef and I’d enjoyed a few very enjoyable meals there. Just when I’d got to like the place, it closed down.

Recently I passed by and noticed that someone had decided to make good use of the premises again. The location is great. Close to the village square and bisecting the swathe of restaurants that occupy the sea­front, it enjoys the perfect spot in the centre of the bay.

The restaurant now rejoices in the name The Stuffed Olive. I’m not quite sure I like it, but then investors in a startup called Google weren’t deterred by the meaningless sequence of letters, decided to give it a go anyway, and are much richer than they were when they did so.

The next time I was in the area, I timed my visit to coincide with dinner, meaning to give this most stuffed of olives a go.

Parking during the weekend is tough, particularly as summer draws to a close and everyone’s out to lap up the last few weekends before the weather puts an end to al fresco dining.

My approach was as nonchalant as I could manage, peeping at the menu outside like I was undecided. A man, resplendent in a smart black uniform, approached me and, assuming we were tourists, welcomed us in English and asked if we needed any assistance.

Caught off guard, I asked if the sea bream was fresh or farmed, knowing the answer. The expression on his face was simultaneously one of concern, honesty and apology. I wondered how he managed this feat that many a thespian will not master during a lifetime of mirror work.

He said he’d never lie about his food, that the fish was indeed farm­ed, but that it tasted excellent none­theless. I asked for a table for two.

The only table available was inside the neatly decorated restaurant. We sat and he passed on menus, made it clear that he was available for queries, and headed back out, still beaming at us.

He has an old-world charm about him, a little like those waiters from black and white movies who are almost overly polite. I couldn’t help warming up to this refreshing, if anachronistic, type of service.

The menus are quite straightforward and there is little attempt to serve up anything innovative.

The avocado and salmon tartlets served with a beurre blanc were as far from the well-trodden path as it strays. The rest seems to be aimed squarely at tourists, with a Maltese antipasto, braġjoli and ‘local’ rabbit making the obligatory appearance.

I figured that a fair way of sampling their fare would be to order the fish platter that, according to the menu, serves two. By the time we’d made up our minds, a young woman turned up to take our orders. She was also very polite, smart, and well mannered. I asked about the size of the platter and she said it was quite generous – probably generous enough for us to skip starters.

The wine menu is worth a mention. The markup on wines is, unusual for this industry, very modest. The selection is decent enough for a restaurant that prices most of its main courses within the €15 region and most of the wines hover around this price or less.

I picked a Sauvignon blanc from Bordeaux but it had run out of stock, as had the next wine I chose. We ended up with a South African chenin blanc that cost a grand total of €12 and, uninspiring as it is, refreshed our evening quite adequately.

While we waited, a basket of fresh bread and some very lightly salted butter headed our way. After a couple of minutes of virtuous abstinence my fortitude gave way and the bread and butter found the shortest route to my stomach.

It was around this time that our host informed us that a table outdoors had been vacated and that we could head outside if we wished to. Within seconds he’d transferred our wine and glasses and the young woman took care of our cutlery and crockery.

Out here the cool breeze and view of the bay worked their magic and we were as happy as kids on Christmas morning who find out that batteries are, in fact, included.

Our lovely young lady cleared a sizeable area in the centre of our table and promptly occupied it again with a large serving dish that contained our fish platter. There seemed to more on the plate than the menu had stated.

Grilled fillets of sea bream and salmon, steamed mussels, grilled squid, steamed octopus and grilled prawns were practically piled up, filling every bit of real estate. A dish of roast potatoes, aubergines, peppers and marrows took up what was left of the centre of our table.

Any doubts about portion size had been very definitely laid to rest. The sea bream was tasty and fatty as the farmed version is and I guiltily admit to thoroughly enjoying it. The octopus and squid were just fine and the mussels made for an enjoyably messy time.

I doubt the prawns were fresh and they were served shelled and overdone but they still made their way into my rapidly filling belly.

The whole dish was very simply seasoned. Olive oil, pepper and salt, a bit of garlic and parsley whispered to us while the fish did all the talking.

The dish was more like I’d popped by the fishmonger, bought the bits and pieces, and prepared them in a simple and homely way than what would normally be associated with restaurant fare and we enjoyed the informality of it all.

We finished off the meal with liqueurs and asked for the bill that just surpassed the €50 mark.

While we hadn’t eaten the best fish ever, we’d thoroughly enjoyed the evening and this is what I consider an important gauge of the ability of a restaurant to deliver a complete experience.

The Stuffed Olive isn’t about fine dining or the ultimate fish restaurant experience. It is about an informal comfort, a picturesque view, and the reassurance that you’re in good hands.

I sincerely hope this restaurant has staying power because it will be disappointing to see this fabulous location vacated once again.

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