Summer in Malta is one long celebration of fire and water. At worst it’s work and road rage in soaring temperatures. At best it’s swim, slumber and feasts. Given the option, we live by the sea, fighting off the heat, and we eat. We wake to the sun, eat our hearts out by the water, give up afternoons in post-meal slump, hit the streets in the early hours of the evening for a breeze and a meal, and go back to bed.
Summer blue, bright flags, marching bands and dazzling fireworks are welcome distractions, but certainly not from our food. We probably haven’t shed enough extra weight to start off the season in style, but this is no time for a whipping: no taste bud deserves missing out on the tantalising journey of a Maltese summer.
In June, we feast over rabbit at l-Imnarja, and rightly so. It didn’t land a reputation as national dish of the islands for nothing. The journey took decades of courting the Maltese peasant to see off hunting bans of power-hungry knights and embrace it as a sign of resistance, cook it to perfection to spite the Order. When in the 19th century meat was scarce, it was the rabbit that came to the rescue. Nowadays it’s eaten all year round because it’s cheap, delicious and easy to prepare. We make a point of eating more of it at l-Imnarja, the festival of light and all things Maltese. We serve it as we please, tossed over spaghetti, slow cooked in deep pots with potatoes and vegetables or fried with a sizzling bowl of chips. Each cook blends history and tradition to suit their tastes.
In her study Searching for a National Cuisine (Journal of Maltese History, Vol. 2, No. 1, 2010), anthropologist Elise Billiard describes variations of the fenkata as “a metaphor for the complex historical Maltese heritage”. By keeping the fries and pasta in separate dishes, “it keeps the pluralism that any nation, even a united nation, needs to thrive”. A united nation minus the vegetarians, of course. “Through the preparation and the consumption of the festive fenkata,” writes Billiard, “the Maltese gather around a common dream.” This common dream, downed with wine and dessert on a warm summer night, comes with calories and hours of digestion.
Not to worry though, as nothing sets us back on track like a couple of morning laps at the beach and a healthy breakfast of cantaloupe melons, peaches, red and yellow plums, nectarines, bambinella and watermelon. On a very good day, that is. On an average day, it’s not long before we give in to the lure of fresh ftira or a fat slice of crusty Maltese bread.
In his book Fenkata: An Emblem of Maltese Peasant Resistance? (Ministry for Youth and the Arts, 1994), historian Carmel Cassar writes that we, “lack information on food consumed by artisans and peasants of early modern Malta, but bread with oil, anchovies and onions was clearly their most frequent meal”.
We loved our ħobż biż-żejt centuries ago, we love it now, young and old alike, eat it daily and eat it with devotion after a swim, straight out of the water, hands damp from the sea, sitting or standing, a heartbreaking sight for the gluten intolerant. This snack from heaven comes dipped in olive oil, rubbed with fresh tomatoes or kunserva, seasoned with salt and pepper and topped with basil, mint, garlic, olives, capers, pickled vegetables, cheeselets and flakes of tuna.
This start to a day means a summer appetite on the loose, the beach cooler’s out of provisions within the hour and since we’re out, there’s that seafood place to try, lunch has to be had. On the menu a starter of aljotta, local octopus, whitebait fritters, swordfish carpaccio and fried calamari. Then enter spaghetti and a throng of mussels, clams, razor shells, prawns: the options are many. The staple sauce of garlic, parsley and white wine lends itself beautifully to marine molluscs, the bread is for dunking, the wine is for finishing and by the end of it we’re exhausted.
Siesta is a must to make it alive to that barbecue. Put together leftover tomatoes, green peppers and aubergines into a kapunata and pretend there’s no charcoal tonight. If dipping veggies in bowls of bigilla and company takes its toll, pick at a Maltese sausage and move on.
After all, it’s festa night tomorrow and you’ve got visitors needing a taste of the nougat, probably preceded by a pastizz or two and a couple of selfies with the candyfloss. Who’s to say it won’t turn into a wild night with a ħobża bajd u laħam and a bag of imqaret from that dubious stand to seal the deal? Then the night after that it’s lampuki fest, rolled in flour, fried golden and with a squeeze of lemon – that is what the tourists were promised. Now live up to it: it’s the summer of excess.