Ed eats

Due Mari Restaurant Cafe
The Point,
Sliema
Tel: 2060 4060

Food: 7/10
Service: 6/10
Ambience: 7/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 7/10

Sometimes I get a bit bored of dining out. I used to blame this on the regularity of the affair but it is more a matter of the food and service I am subjected to. There is a rather homogenous level of both and this gets boring. I keep at it though, because the splash of colour that surprise meals offer are well worth the drab, grey canvas that makes up the time in between exciting meals.

There is a way to keep diners excited and this is a steady supply of true variety. Whenever someone visits London, for instance, and comes back bubbling with excitement over Borough Market, or even the food at Brick Lane on a Sunday, I realise that those who enjoy food, seek out variety wherever they go.

Our country is probably too small to provide the opportunity for a market such as the ones I’ve mentioned without having every stall in dire straits. As food gets more and more curious, profits slip down the rabbit hole, both because demand isn’t as high as that for the more humdrum, and because ingredients are less common, so more expensive.

I had a brief chat to this effect with a charming young lady at the Patches market last week. She voiced her concern while constructing a cinnamon doughnut filled with pulled pork and topped with bacon, a malt dressing and pork crackling. This tiny snack was devilishly tasty and messy and unusual so it provided joy, sustenance, surprise, and a topic for conversation.

Yet this multitalented little snack is an orphan until our food market develops sufficiently to offer it a warm and welcoming home. The barefoot and curious (for such is the name of her kitchen) young lady who had created it will either carve a little niche that’s prepared to pay for her talents or resort to the mundane that the market is more readily prepared to pay for. Let’s hope the former is sustainable.

My quest for the less ordinary led me to a restaurant that boasts cuisine from Calabria, claiming to import all ingredients from the region with the exception of fresh fish. Due Mari, at Tigné Point, is the latest addition to the restaurants in the piazza and seems to be both a restaurant and a cafe.

The internal space is neat and welcoming but the most original feature is in the form of a long, refrigerated counter that is brimming with specialities from the region. These are available as take-home ingredients, so if you want to use colatura di alici or ’Nduja (spreadable pork sausage) in that recipe you’ve been itching to try, your foraging ends here.

I happened to be in the area at lunchtime and the skies had cleared for an hour, making the terrace an inviting option. After an interminable, hot summer, I was happy to endure the chill and enjoy the views. Unfortunately, the view is largely obscured by hoarding that covers the lower floors of yet another tower of flats that’s being built. I could have sworn there were enough flats already.

I had tried to sample Due Mari’s fare once before and the place was packed. We were turned away quite rudely by the man who met us at the door and this time there would be no such issue. The place was empty save for two girls sitting at one of the tables on the piazza. They were sipping coffees so I was quite happy to have the front of house and the kitchen to ourselves.

I was there with a friend and a regular companion in eating forays. He is of that rare breed that values large quantities of healthy food because it sustains his strict fitness regimen. I make every effort to lead him astray because it is fun to watch pleasure and guilt at odds.

Both dishes were abundant portions of excellent pasta. Mine was jet black and had the flesh of an entire cuttlefish nestling within the curls of perfectly-cooked spaghetti

When we’d been ignored for about five minutes, he unfolded to his full height, squared his shoulders, and walked into the restaurant to ask whether anyone would at least deliver menus any time soon. He returned, fumed a little while longer, and then got up to pace the terrace and take a call.

While he paced, one of the two men who seemed to be taking care of the service that afternoon turned up with menus, popped them on the table, and legged it. I called him back and asked whether there were any specials. I’d spotted three lovely cuttlefish on the fish display and was keen to know where they were destined.

These turned out to be the only special item, with the rest covered by the menu, and he recommended that the chef prepare them as a pasta dish. Talking about food had the rather dour man who was serving us turn into a very animated and happy one so I was pleased I’d called him back for more information.

My guest was sold on the idea of paccheri with prawn and mint so we decided to settle for a pasta dish each.

The menu is an interesting one, with a number of Calabrian dishes interspersed among more traditional Italian dishes. I was tempted by a couple but had my heart and stomach set on the fresh cuttlefish so I figured I’d have to return and try the more specifically regional dishes if this experience turned out to be an enjoyable one.

Within a minute our host was back with fresh bread, condiments, some really lovely bruschetta and the bottle of sparkling water I’d ordered. Even the water is imported from Calabria but this doesn’t excuse serving a plastic, two-litre bottle of the stuff. If I want plastic bottles, I go to the supermarket.

We waited for quite a while for our food and, maybe 10 minutes into our wait or possibly more, our host popped by again to apologise for the wait and explain that the freshly prepared food takes a while.

Once again, when talking about food, he turned into a really friendly and charming man. He told us that everything that the kitchen served was freshly prepared to order and this inevitably leads to slightly longer waiting times.

Both of us spend a lot of time in our respective kitchens so we nodded understandingly and let him know that we were fine with having to wait a while for good food.

And when they served it, we knew it was worth the wait. Both dishes were abundant portions of excellent pasta. Mine was jet black and had the flesh of an entire cuttlefish nestling within the curls of perfectly-cooked spaghetti. The flavour was that of distilled cuttlefish, no doubt assisted with a little bit of their own stock. It was well-seasoned, too, leaving the cuttlefish to make quite a statement in black on white.

The paccheri were also cooked al dente, the red prawn was fresh, and the sauce was almost like a prawn bisque that had a pleasing hint of grilled prawn floating on top of the minty scent of the sauce. We looked at each other, somehow surprised at the quality of the food that was served.

When we were done, our host returned, and he had really mellowed out. He brought napkins and wet towels for us to clean up and asked if we needed any more help. This we did, in the form of an espresso each, and he was out with two perfect espressos within a minute.

The bill was for just under €35 for both of us. We’d only had a plate of pasta and a coffee but to be fair they were both quite lovely. The service was shaky, especially considering we had the place to ourselves. I walked away feeling happy with the food and uncertain about the service, but not uncertain enough to keep me from returning to try some proper Calabrian specialities.

And if next time I’m disappointed with the service, I can always buy most of the ingredients from their own counter and attempt to recreate some of their dishes at home.

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