Ed eats

Angka Café
Triq Aldo Moro
Marsa
Tel: 2122 4317

Food: 6/10
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 5/10
Overall: 6.5/10

I don’t suppose there is documented evidence of anyone dying of boredom.

We finished off with Turkish coffee, which tasted of cardamom and of cinnamon but contained very little coffee

While your mind might protest at interminably mundane stretches of time, our body cruelly ticks away. It is when we’re bored that our remarkable resilience doesn’t seem like a good idea after all.

Lunchtime can be boring. Were it not for the promise of a more interesting supper, my body might one day actually stop working.

Unless I venture far and wide in search of food or actually bother to take my own with me, then I’m restricted to a pitifully narrow spectrum of foodstuffs. Ftira with this and that. Hold the ġbejna. Add some sausage. Pour some ketchup. In the end, I still wind up eating pretty much the same thing every day.

My life was saved this week when my most precious Mandy turned up with a jar of Marmite Gold. The priceless liquid it contains looks as gorgeous as it tastes and it made for such a shimmering sparkle of excitement that my pulse actually raced during lunch.

The jar now has pride of place in my office and forms a shrine of gratitude to Mandy and her thoughtful gift. Once it runs out, I wonder what it will take to save me.

A couple of weeks ago, I was saved by a call that offered to drag me out of the office for a meeting at lunchtime. The offer of pickup and dropoff cemented the deal. I’d be eating something other than the daily ftira and I started to weigh the options.

Then I was distracted by actual work so when I ran out to car of the kind soul who had offered salvation, I was quite unprepared. “How about something a little different?” my chauffeur suggested. I tried to hide my enthusiasm by quietly agreeing and inside my spirits started to soar.

Chatting away, I hardly realised I was being driven to Marsa. We pulled up outside a cheerfully decorated glass façade that had the word Angka in large, friendly letters on it. I swallowed my pride and asked how one pronounces it. Turns out the ‘g’ is silent.

The café, for that’s the description applied to the place, is a large and bright space, tastefully if quite austerely furnished. One corner of the room is dedicated to an area that hosts shelves of Indian-looking books and accoutrements.

A long bar down the side of the café has a buffet table in front of it and bowls upon bowls of brightly coloured food each have a little card with a description of their contents. A blackboard is chock-full of neatly chalked dishes. And an unfairly attractive girl stood behind the bar waiting for us to place our orders.

One of the menu items rang every alarm bell in my body. Soya burgers. Then the décor, the bowls of salad and the general atmosphere slotted into place and I asked whether there was any chance of eating something that contained meat.

A little disappointed nod answered the question. The disappointment had nothing to do with the absence of meat. It was all about my cheek at having asked the question in the first place. Angka is all about vegan, vegetarian and raw food. Nothing served here ever had a mum.

I had asked for different and I was getting different. I suddenly felt like a bull in a china shop and felt compelled to be on my best behaviour. There is something about being surrounded by vegetarians and their virtue that puts me on guard.

I decided I’d let my guest – who obviously knew the lay of the land – take the lead. She is roughly half my size, so she said she was having a small salad from the buffet and that I would probably need a large one.

I spotted a can of something I’d never seen before and that was described as a spicy ginger soft drink. I felt brave enough to order it but would not take any more decisions.

I set myself up with the appropriate plate and followed my little guest along the buffet, adding as diverse a set of salads and other veggie dishes to my plate as possible. The combinations are imaginative and I was happy to see radish, ginger and chilli share a bowl. Lucky is the chef who combines three of my weaknesses.

There are as many ways to combine leafy veg, beans, fruit, herbs, spices and grains as one could possibly imagine. Chickpeas become falafel, beans make as good a curry as is possible without animal fats and they also turn up in the form of bigilla.

Bread that was quite possibly made from spelt flour was fresh and of a surprisingly light texture. By the time I was done adding most of the plant kingdom to my plate, it had turned into a saintly pile of colours and textures.

We picked cutlery that’s wrapped up in a napkin and headed to one of the tables. I was curious if not enthusiastic. As we started chatting away, I worked my way around the plate, trying to separate the flavours and textures.

Raw cauliflower is nice and crunchy. I love it as a side dish. If it is going to be a chief component of my meal, however, I’d like bacon with it. I know this is out of the question at a vegetarian place.

I know that if I want bacon I can go elsewhere. And yet I had to push my luck and mention it. In return, I was given a multitude of reasons for being vegetarian.

For a start, raw vegetables give us good vibrations. I suppose eating healthy food should give us good vibrations, so this ties in neatly with the benefit of a balanced diet. To me, balance includes meat but I can see the point. The other reason is to take a stand on the ill treatment of animals slaughtered for food.

As much as I’d like to agree, avoidance of evil is as passive a stance as one can take. If you really despise the way chickens are kept cooped up inside tiny cages, then go and picket the place. Use all means available to condemn the malpractice.

And while you’re at it, refrain from condemning every form of animal husbandry because there are responsible people out there who are doing their best to treat animals in an exemplary fashion.

Highlighting best practice is a more powerful tool than the wholesale criticism of a source of food that has been with us since the dawn of time. And on that note, I end my rant.

I slowly finished my meal and was surprised at how filling it was. I’m not one who adds condiments to my food since I believe that the chef knows best and adding salt, for instance, is insulting to a chef who’s worth her salt.

I also understand that Angka is about healthy living so fats and salt, two unhealthy additions to our food, are used sparingly. My palate craved them so while my hunger had been staved and I enjoyed the bite of radish, ginger and chilli, I would have loved some more kick to my meal.

We finished off with Turkish coffee. This is served in individual kettles and tasted of cardamom and of cinnamon but contained very little coffee.

Once again, I suppose I’m not allowed to harm myself with caffeine and had been served the healthy option.

I was not the only one feeling appropriately light by the end of the meal. My wallet was lightened by the gentle lifting of €28 for the lot. Somehow, the general atmosphere had lulled me into thinking that this is one of those ‘not-for-profit’ places where genuinely healthy food is served at genuinely healthy prices.

If I’m serving my own food, picking up my own cutlery, and basically eating produce that is by definition sustainable, I’d expect to pay no more than I do for lunch every day.

I admire the people who are taking a stand towards a healthier, more sustainable lifestyle. If they’re keen on it spreading the word, however, they should price it more attractively.

You can send e-mails about this column to ed.eatson@gmail.com or follow @edeats on Twitter.

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