Ed eats

Bianco’s
Spinola Bay
St Julian’s
Tel: 2138 3030

Food: 7/10
Service: 9/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 8/10

The world is always divided into two. Beatles fans or Elvis fans. Liberal or conservative. Marmite lovers and Marmite haters. Those who love salads and those who despise them.

Luckily, there are also the open-minded and the obstinate. The obstinate will refuse change, most often to their own detriment and to the annoyance of those around them. Happily, it is possible, if sufficiently convinced that one’s position on something was wrong, for one to hop to the other side.

For the longest time I despised salads. I couldn’t get the point of eating a pile of bitter leaves. I might as well fall flat in a field and start eating my surroundings. The standard choice of chicken breast, smoked salmon or tuna out of a can just made the whole prospect all the more awful.

Then I spent some time in France where even the chef at a restaurant in the most unfashionable street of a remote village takes pride in preparing a salad. Their vinaigrette, even if apparently quite consistent within the region, has its tiny signature twist.

When eating a salad, using a knife is considered an offence. The chef has cut up the greens into a size you can manage with a fork. If you need assistance, it’s fine to use fresh bread, always served with a salad, to push a rebellious bit of lettuce on to your fork. The French have seen what sharp steel can do to a man, what with them having invented the guillotine and all that, and have since chosen bread over blades. I’m pretty certain they produced more baguettes than bullets during the last World War.

And so in a country so happy, even a salad is a felicitous occasion. I found myself ordering salads, something I’d only associated with skinny models who walk out of a restaurant with their stomachs still grumbling.

I’ll never forget my first time. There I was, all alone. The salad with warm goats cheese on top sounded perfect. I took the plunge and placed my order, certain that everyone was looking at me. I felt I was a carrot stick and hummus dip away from the catwalk, and not in a good way.

And the salad was perfect. Different temperatures, textures, and colours lit up my lunch. I worked my way through, thoroughly enjoying the meal like it had been a grilled slab of onglet from a cow that lived in the neighbouring Charolle. A couple of salads later, I hopped across the fence and proclaimed myself a lifelong salad-lover.

Then I tried to do the same in Malta. One salad is all it took to send me shooting back over the fence I’d just crossed. The memories I’d created of lying face down in a field, munching the grass under my face, returned.

We just don’t take salads seriously. This is why eating a salad is an effort most of the time. If not an effort, it isn’t the meal that will give the most pleasure. Many times, those who eat salads do so because it is one of the most nutritiously sensible meal to consume.

It has much more fibre than any other dish on most menus, has a healthy protein source and only throws in fats in the form of ‘good’ ones like olive oil. Adding some carbohydrate in the form of a slice or two of bread is also the perfect portion size.

Yet, even with all that common sense behind ordering a salad, the dread of what it will taste like keeps me well away from doing so. To be honest, I’ve had a couple of good salads. They are just so few and far between that the odds stack up against them.

There’s also a bit of a weather factor to me. I only really consider salads at this time of year. Winter vegetables are more suited to soups, roasting and baking and the like.

The menus at Bianco’s are a pleasant affair. They’re simple and enticing, with a selection of food that spices up familiarity with the occasional twist

With the intention of ordering a salad, I walked into Bianco’s last week. The weather was practically perfect and I considered eating al fresco for a while, but then opted for cool shade.

We were greeted at the door by a very polite young lady who showed us to a table close to one of the glass doors that enjoy the view of the bay outside. She brought menus and took our order for water, then brought a chair to our table when she saw me trying to figure out what to do with the stuff I was carrying.

When she returned with water, she also brought one of those contraptions that hang an ice bucket from the edge of the table and placed the bottle of water in it, making sure our table was dedicated to the food. This kind of attentiveness turns satisfaction into delight.

The menus at Bianco’s are a pleasant affair. They’re simple and enticing, with a selection of food that spices up familiarity with the occasional twist. This means you’ll never be left wondering what an item is, yet you’ll have a little surprise to look forward to.

I looked at the salad section. I looked at it long and hard. I was tempted but somehow there was an item in the pasta section that sounded more enticing. The battle raged inside for a second, with the salad putting a half-hearted war cry into the effort before turning and running.

The pasta dish was an al cartoccio affair and included the promise of fresh pasta, beef, aubergine, basil and ricotta salata. Thank you, dear salad, for looking so enticing. It’s not you, it’s me.

But women are strong. The better half was resolute and claimed there was nothing she felt like more than a honey and sesame duck salad.

So we placed our orders and I was quite pleased that the cooking temperature of the duck is something taken into consideration. Rare to medium then, please.

The place wasn’t busy at all so I expected quick service, and Bianco’s were indeed very quick. I’m guessing here but I don’t think we waited more than 10 minutes, a factor very important at lunchtime. My pasta was served with the foil still sealed up top, and the girl who served it opened the foil up at table. Once again, Bianco’s wins on attentive service.

The pasta was close to al dente, surprising when I was promised fresh pasta. There was nothing wrong with the pasta itself but it was just not as promised.

The sauce was great, with the basil and ricotta salata coming together in a salty, tangy, counterpoint to the rich, full flavour of the beef and aubergine.

I had to taste the salad, even for the sake of validating my choice. The duck was excellent. I’ve had duck at pretentious restaurants, paid thrice as much, and the result hasn’t been far from this. The salad was a little weak however. The dressing is very sweet but not sweet enough to do any favours to the large leaves of lettuce. I know that using the sweeter leaves is wasteful, but I’m not prepared to battle with a salad and taste bitter foliage. My expectations where salad is concerned are high, and I suspect I established this in my rather lengthy introduction.

In the end, we paid a very reasonable bill that was under €15 each and walked out very pleased with the whole experience. The food varied from good to great, the service close to impeccable and the location quite pretty.

So far, Bianco’s meant great pizza to me. This visit showed me that their skill spills into the kitchen as well. I still need convincing about the salad though, so I’ll be back for the service, and most likely the pizza.

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