The view is sumptious.

Ed eats

Mamounia
Qui-si-Sana
Sliema
Tel: 9916 4638

Food: 8/10
Service: 8/10
Ambience: 7/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 7.5/10

I occasionally have sneaky chats with a man who poses as an accountant. He dresses the part, does the job, and spends more than eight hours a day doing so. It is all a charade. He was a chef once and nothing makes him light up like talking about food does. He’s a chef at heart who also happens to be talented with numbers and chooses a day job over one that will take up most of his evenings.

Whenever he mentions a restaurant he’s been to recently, he dissects his experience and covers all bases with enthusiasm, providing a detailed and technical account.

During our last chat he mentioned a place I like and respect, cautiously approaching the subject because he wasn’t certain whether I’d been and, if so, whether I liked the place. I understood his hesitation. The place in question will never be a huge hit because they don’t really adapt their food to the market. However, if you’re after authenticity, it is the place to go to.

This conundrum exists because, unfortunately, food and numbers must coexist. The taste and preferences of an entire nation tend to turn the average meal into a very safe pile of salty carbohydrates that packs almost all taste groups into it.

A huge portion of pasta or a pizza laden with ingredients wind up being the statistically most frequently opted for. This is why demand for non-Westernised or even non-localised cuisines remains on the fringe.

Luckily this is changing. We’re seeing food from around the world pop up in our supermarkets and even the birth of smaller stores dedicated almost exclusively to ingredients from another country or even a different continent. The same is steadily happening with restaurants.

There are two main stages in my classification of ‘world’ cuisines. The Chinese and Indian restaurants, for instance, are often more like theme parks. The food has been Westernised into echoes of the glory with which it left its hometown. Many dishes on an Indian menu, for instance, originated in England.

Then there is the other, significantly braver, class. These attempt to preserve the authenticity of the food from their country of origin. They know that it is tough for this kind of cuisine to penetrate the mass market. This is braver because those awful numbers come back into play.

If one were to try to force a business to subsist when the food is only attracting a niche market, the likelihood is that Westernisation will happen rapidly or that the restaurant simply closes down. If, on the other hand, there is a community of compatriots large enough to appreciate the authenticity and pay for it, then the restaurant can thrive. Any ‘locals’ who visit are simply very welcome additional patronage.

There exists a third class but this is tiny. These are focused on the authenticity of their offering and combine an excellent kitchen with a memorable front of house so they win the mass market over, gently forcing its patrons to adapt their palate rather than succumb to the vastly more easy reverse.

I drove by Mamounia in Qui-si-Sana a couple of times and committed it to memory. The exterior looks very firmly North African and I’m always up for this style of cuisine. Eventually, I planned a visit and, with my very curious partner in gastronomy in tow, headed over.

There is no faffing around with attempts at kiddie menus or if-all-else-fails pizza and pasta. The menu is packed with Moroccan food and that’s it

We arrived at sunset and the few tables outside had been taken by those clever enough to know that the early bird catches this most sumptuous of vistas. I had no time to worry about this. A young man, smiling in the most disarming of manners, led us inside and made sure we were comfortably settled in without delay.

He asked if it was our first time there, welcomed us to his restaurant, and brought menus. I was happy with the reception. Slightly Westernised music from North Africa played in the background. The interior decor is quite appropriate to the cuisine it represents without going overboard on the cues. It is actually quite clean and effective and I respect the discipline this must have taken.

The menus play the part, too. There is no faffing around with attempts at kiddie menus or if-all-else-fails pizza and pasta. The menu is packed with Moroccan food and that’s it. These guys are brave ones and this goes a long way towards my appreciation of their efforts.

For starters we decided we’d have a couple of the salads to keep things light before the main courses. This was confirmed when our orders were taken. Our host indicated that the portions were quite generous, but I felt I owed it to this column to try the starters. That’s something of a lie. I just wanted to taste more food.

We went with an aubergine salad and a ‘shakshuka’. This is normally a dish of eggs poached in a tomato and bell pepper sauce but, chez Mamounia, it is served without the egg for starters. We’d follow this up with a lamb tagine and a lamb couscous. The other very tempting main course options were in the grill section but I refrained, mainly because I felt that the couscous would show off the kitchen a little more broadly than the grills would.

I stole a quick look at the wine menu while our orders were being taken. Spotting this, our host asked if we’d like to try the only Moroccan wine they served – a rosé. I asked whether it was a sweet rosé, fearing a version of the abomination that is commercial Rosé d’Anjou. He smiled, knowingly, and dashed to the bar, returning with an open bottle and offering a taste before I decided. It won’t win awards but it was acceptable and as authentic as their menus; so I went with it.

Our starters were served by another one of the smart, young men who were responsible for service that evening. He seemed thrilled to be doing the job, letting us know that we’d chosen wisely and that one of the dishes in particular was his favourite. This was the tone that was set by the service all evening, one of well-intended, if occasionally slightly erratic, exuberance.

A little basket of toasted pitta landed first, followed immediately by the aubergine salad. This is served in two plates. One contains the mashed aubergine that is a little like a cross between a zaalouk and a baba ghanoush. It has a garlic kick to it and just begs to be added to the bread.

A separate dish with carrots and peas and rice with sweetcorn complete the salad. The shakshuka also turned up in two dishes. One contained the sauce itself, a more spicy and slightly exotic caponata and a salad of finely diced tomato, cucumber, onion, and bell pepper. Tabbouleh comes to mind here. Every dish was simply prepared, letting fresh ingredients and traditional recipes speak for themselves.

The main courses were served in their own earthenware dish, each with its volcanic lid keeping the heat inside. These were removed with a flourish and we dug in. Perhaps disappointingly, the lamb was prepared as a single shank in both dishes, so they looked the same and both involved picking the meat from the bone. Tasting both, however, revealed that the flavours were quite distinct.

I’d ordered my main course spicy. I like heat and always encounter the slightly incredulous and well-intended reaction of those who want to make sure I enjoy my meal. This was quite hot and an extra dish of harissa was served on the side just in case I wanted to spice things up further.

The lamb was served with very fresh veg and all was placed on top of a generous serving of couscous. The meat was tender and had that heady blend of spices that throws one’s palate into an initial flurry of disarray as one attempts to identify all the individual elements.

Once you realise it is better to settle down and appreciate the expertly blended ras el hanout, the harmony of the blend becomes a pleasant and personal experience.

Opting out of a glass of green tea with mint wasn’t an option. We were told that this is a polite custom of any host back in Morocco and that it was their treat. And the sweet warmth of the brew was indeed a treat.

At just over €35 each this place isn’t cheap. The location is splendid, the food is generous and very authentic, and the service cheerful and welcoming. I’ll be back just before sunset, I’ll try the grills next time, and will once again walk out feeling pleased with the experience.

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