A little patch of Rome, off the well-trodden path.Ed eats
Zero Sei Trattoria
75, Old Theatre Street,
Valletta
Tel: 2122 2010
Food: 7/10
Service: 9/10
Ambience: 6/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 7.5/10
You might have watched the movie Pulp Fiction. If you haven’t, there’s no way I’ll sum it up here. Any attempts to do so would not do justice to this cult peculiarity. It would also bore those who have treated themselves to the weird and wonderful roller coaster that’s inside Tarantino’s head.
Within the movie there is plenty of dialogue that does nothing to the storyline itself but sheds light on the characters who are central to it. One such piece of dialogue stems from the refusal of one character to eat pork, purely on the grounds that he considers the animal to be filthy. This goes on to include dogs as off-limits and we’re left with the words, “Dogs have personality, and personality goes a long way”.
Of course, this puts the whole dialogue to rest. How can one argue with the fact that dogs have plenty of personality, or that personality goes a long way? We’re human and gregarious and soft and wobbly so, whether we like it or not, are often swayed by pleasant personality.
If you consider your actions throughout the day, it is possible that you’ll realise that you’ve gone beyond the call of duty to help those who are consistently pleasant, while you’re reluctant to jump through hoops for anyone who lacks this disposition.
What I’ve just written isn’t arcane knowledge that I’ve accidentally unearthed while on a lifelong quest for the philosopher’s stone. It is pretty obvious to anyone who has lived with other humans. Yet there are so many restaurants out there that fail to apply basic social skills to their formula. Even if they were to pretend to be pleasant, it would increase repeat business and regular revenue. Yet we’ve all been to restaurants and, despite the kitchen’s best efforts, walked out swearing we’d never return.
I walked out of a restaurant this week and vowed I’d be back. And I’m not ashamed to say that an important ingredient in the whole experience was the personality of the man who is running the show. There is no shame in this admission because we go out to dinner for the entire experience and service is an essential ingredient.
I heard that a Roman trattoria was a recent addition to Valletta’s already plentiful selection of restaurants and was quite curious. During the month or so since I first heard about it, I received mixed opinions. Some said it was great, while others gave a middle-of-the-road sort of reception. The name itself is fun. Zero Sei (the numbers ‘zero six’ in Italian) is an affectionate nod to the phone prefix of Italy’s capital.
Just as patriotic was the greeting and introduction to the restaurant by our host. This, he stated with pride and a charming smile, is a typical Roman trattoria. They use no butter or cream and cook simple ingredients in a little water to make sure their food is healthy and light. Apart from the items on the board, there was a list of the day’s specialities and these included a risotto with four types of mushrooms, ravioli with pecorino and pine nuts, and linguine with carciofi (globe artichoke) and guanciale (cured pork cheek). The list was all very enticing, as was the board filled with Roman specialities. The three of us at table were hungry, very keen on Roman cuisine, and very, very undecided.
The star of tonight’s show returned to our table, clearly amused by our animated discussion and evident indecision. He helped by describing the impossibility of, for instance, eating a lovely Amatriciana without messing up the white shirt that one of us was wearing. As is often the case in these situations, friends are marginally less horrid than enemies, so we egged the monogrammed-shirt-wearing victim on, posing the threat of a stained shirt as a challenge.
We started by voicing our indecision about whether to have two courses or just one. Our host suggested that we have just one dish. If we’re hungry after that, we could either order another course or finish off with dessert. Appreciating the honesty and valid advice, we ordered a dish each. White Shirt ordered the safest – a pumpkin risotto. The Bear was dead set on the linguine with carciofi and guanciale since the first time it was mentioned and he ordered with conviction. I decided to try the straccetti with carciofi because I associate Roman food with their incredibly versatile approach to the globe artichoke.
The portions are just right, presentation is Spartan, and emphasis is on the food itself
It was now time to think about wine so we asked for the wine list. Ever smiling, our resident Roman asked whether we would graciously lend him half a minute of our time and follow him to the selection of wines he was compiling.
Up we got and followed closely down a few stairs to a lower dining area and through to another room that is stacked with wines, each with the price written on it.
He immediately sought out a bottle that had €15 written on it and proclaimed it his choice for us that night, then described another couple of wines in the same price range. When it was evident that neither of us had pounced upon his selection he stepped it up a notch until White Shirt decided on a bottle of Cannonau from Sardegna.
Back at table, wine was served and we started conversation in earnest. The place lends itself to conversation, mainly because the internal space is quite small. This also means your conversation is likely to spill over into that of another table. I’d been to this restaurant in its previous guise and hadn’t quite liked the decor. It has been improved in many ways but still looks and feels like a trattoria. The emphasis seems to be on simplicity and humility.
This theme carried over to the food, that was served almost too quickly. The portions are just right, presentation is Spartan, and emphasis is on the food itself. My straccetti were very enjoyable thanks to the simple cooking process and tiny list of ingredients that allowed the delicate artichoke flavour to work its magic. The straccetti shared a plate with some devilishly good spinach and a potato purée that was, perhaps, the most fussy item on the plate.
The linguine were excellent. Once again, restraint made the dish. The ingredients that had been promised were there and tasted great, and thankfully there was pretty much little else to distract the Bear’s attention. Quietly enjoying the risotto, White Shirt looked up and, quite sombrely, stated that, “this is cooking that’s actually grown-up”. Now he is a man who speaks in riddles, so I’ll attempt to translate.
His dish was also a very pure form of what had been described. It hadn’t been laden with a heap of stock substitute, a mound of salt or a heap of garlic. We could actually taste the delicate pumpkin earthiness within a gently textured risotto. What he meant by ‘grown-up’ is, unfortunately, that this will not be appreciated by all palates. He’s a little elitist that way.
Yet he did pinpoint the chink in the armour of this Roman Centurion. This Roman trattoria is in Malta, where we’re used to cooking that’s overly laboured and too often unbearably contrived. If you pay attention to the most democratically revered eating options around the country, they focus on large portions of salty and almost indeterminate flavour. We seem to fall in love with the first bite of a dish that brutally assaults our palate, even if this fleeting moment of affection means we’ll taste nothing else for the duration of our meal. This is not so at Zero Sei so I can imagine that there will be those who will consider this kitchen underwhelming.
If, on the other hand, you’re after a little patch of Rome that’s off the well-trodden path and want to sample the simple flavours and the genuine charm of an unmistakably Roman experience, I recommend you give Zero Sei a shot. We managed to spend €20 per person, including a €20 bottle of wine.
So your little experiment won’t really cost you that much. After all, you’ll be treated to a charming personality, and personality goes a long way.
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