Ed eats

Haywharf
Xatt it-Tiben
Floriana

Food: 4/10
Service: 5/10
Ambience: 5/10
Value: 3/10
Overall: 4/10

There is one question that sums up any experience: will a client return? This applies to every case in which a product or service is delivered. If you want to know whether Malta is a decent tourist destination, just stand outside the airport and ask that single question to everyone heading back home. If more than half of them say they will, then you and I and everyone else who inhabits these islands has done at least a half-decent job.

I include everyone because a visit to a country is a complex experience and depends on a mind-boggling array of factors. A perfect week marred by a single negative experience can easily turn the answer into an emphatic ‘no’, so we all matter when that question is asked.

On a more specific level, every service provider along the way should be asking the same question to themselves. From the dashing diving instructor to the dodgy drug dealer, everyone who renders a service can accurately gauge the quality of their product or service by understanding whether the sum total of the experience is one that will encourage repeat purchase.

Whether it happens or not is another matter. I might intend to return to a particular purveyor of pizza and promptly discover an even better pizzaiolo a week later. This does not reduce the merit of the first guy. It was circumstance and no lack on his part that prevented me from actually returning.

You can try this yourself. Think of your last five transactions. It could be a couple of euros spent at the grocery just down the road or the purchase of a splendid saloon from Stuttgart. Don’t put too much effort into the answer – go with your gut – and just say yes or no.

Now you have a list of yeses and nos. It doesn’t mean you won’t repeat a purchase at one of the providers you dismissed with a ‘no’. I might not be particularly in love with my supplier of electricity but I don’t really have a choice. The answer just helps you categorise the level of service and is much more valuable to providers.

As a consumer you have money in your pockets. A ‘no’ means you’ll simply spend your money elsewhere once you’ve managed to get over the disappointment that accompanies having paid for rubbish. You’ll move on, and unless you vent your frustration, the provider will be none the wiser.

You’ve seen the numbers at the top of this column so you can probably gather that I won’t be returning to Haywharf. I know I’ve given away the conclusion right there, but I owe it to you and to the restaurant to explain a little further.

I visited on a Monday night. The place was packed with patrons, and no one seemed to be particularly disappointed, so I might have different expectations. I might be picky, or just unlucky.

The story starts a while ago. When I heard that Lo Squero had served its last dessert (or maybe it was an espresso) and was being replaced with a brand-new restaurant, I was quite happy.

The location is pretty awesome and Lo Squero wasn’t among my favourites. If the new kitchen turned out to be a marvel, I’d be as happy as a kid in a stock photo. I tried to visit a couple of times without a reservation and this didn’t lead to any joy. The place was packed every time. A Monday night with a reservation was a safer bet.

Having waited for this meal for a while because of a restaurant’s popularity could mean two things. It is either very good or very popular. Those are not the same thing.

When we arrived we were led to a table that was within the restaurant, so we had a sort of sideways view of the port and the twinkling lights across the bay. I couldn’t complain. One cannot have a view at every single table and, if the experience were positive, I could always return and book a specific table well in advance.

The place was loud. Large tables of rowdy groups were making themselves heard above the clutter of cutlery and crockery playing a contact sport. A young man, all smart and confident, turned up with menus and made it clear that he was running the show. It is one of those hierarchies where he’s the only member of the front-of-house staff without a uniform. A polite young man in uniform turned up to take our orders, but I hadn’t yet opened my menu, so I asked for a few minutes. He was great. He smiled, nodded with understanding and said he’d give us more time. I liked him.

Having chicken breast, duck breast, ribs and steak in the meat section isn’t quite a twist. Neither is swordfish, salmon and a mixed platter anything to get all in a twist about

I decided to stop chatting and actually look at the menu. The first page opens with a line about this place being a concept. Oh, dear Lord, another one! This one is about an experience with a twist, whatever that may be.

The starters sounded quite decent. A veal carpaccio and a pepata di cozze competed for my attention here and, when I figured out that the better half was having the veal, I picked the pepata. I’d get to try both. I couldn’t quite pick a main course, though. I wasn’t in the mood for pizza and pasta and there was nothing that stood out.

This was meant to be a concept with a twist. Having chicken breast, duck breast, ribs and steak in the meat section isn’t quite a twist. Neither is swordfish, salmon and a mixed platter anything to get all in a twist about. I decided I’d risk the fresh fish.

We ordered our starters, a paġella (bream) with veg and roast potatoes on the side, spaghetti marinara, and a bottle of inexpensive Sauvignon from Australia. This turned out to be out of stock, so a few dashes back and forth and a mix-up later, we ended up drinking a Chenin Blanc from South Africa.

We waited quite a while for our starters and when they made it, I simply couldn’t eat mine. I popped a couple of empties into the bowl that had been provided and tasted two or three of the mussels. They were saltier than I can handle, left an awkward burning sensation that could have simply been down to the excessive salinity, and had evidently been frozen and then overcooked. The carpaccio was also masked with salt and Parmesan but was edible, which is more than can be said about my starter.

We then had another long wait for our main course. The staff was polite for the most part. The biggest issue with service was the waiting time and the occasional impossibility of attracting the attention of anyone. When you’re putting up with a restaurant that is getting louder by the minute and an awful starter, you probably want to head out as quickly as possible, so the wait felt even longer.

When our main course arrived, my fish was served whole as I’d requested it and with two bowls of sides. The roast potato and the roast veg were the highlights of my meal and would hold their own when compared to those served by much more pretentious places around the islands. The fish was just decent, mainly because it had been overcooked so, while lightly seasoned, it had lost most of its moisture and texture. I still ate most of it. Two hours into my meal, I’d only eaten three mussels so far.

The pasta seemed to have been prepared with an approach similar to my pepata, so there was a very salty liquid at the bottom of the dish, more frozen mussels, and a smattering of frozen seafood. Picking the pasta way from the bottom and avoiding the mussels made half of the dish edible, but that was as much as we were eating here tonight.

I tried asking for the bill a few times and eventually stood up and went to beg for it. I paid €80 for the view because I surely didn’t pay that much money for the food and headed out, not quite needing to ask whether I’d ever return. But as I drove into the still night I kept thinking about all the other people in there on a Monday night. Awful as my experience was, there seem to be plenty of people willing to part with their money to pay for Haywharf’s food. Evidently, not even this kind of kitchen is beyond the realms of subjectivity.

You can send e-mails about this column to ed.eatson@gmail.com or follow @edeats on Twitter.