Ed eats

Xpresso cafe
Palazzo de Piro
Misraħ il-Kunsill
Mdina
Tel 2010 0560

Food: 5/10
Service: 6/10
Ambience: 9/10
Value: 6/10
Overall: 6/10

Once in a while, I desperately try to like a restaurant. This happens very rarely. I normally visit with as open a mind as I can muster and, over time, have got used to being relatively objective. What most people seek is a pleasant experience and, if you’ve opened your doors to the public, it’s very likely that you’ve lined up all the bits and pieces necessary to deliver a pleasant experience.

There was a place I tried to like so much that I actually visited twice before reviewing. I don’t normally have the luxury to do so but circumstances lined up for this to happen. I was in the same place twice within a short period of time so I decided I’d base my review on both. The first time I visited partly explains my reason for trying to like the place.

My ever-suffering better half mentioned the cafe at Palazzo de Piro in Mdina a couple of times. She insisted that we visit, particularly because the view is outstanding. I’d been there a couple of times and every time I sat with a coffee and a table full of people I had to actually speak to, so I couldn’t really form an opinion. Other than that the place is a visual treat in every way, of course.

The palazzo commands a view of half of the island, perched as it is on top of the bastions in Mdina, and it faces roughly due north so you can picture the sweeping vista it affords. The restoration and conversion into a dining space has also been tastefully and masterfully executed. So I really hoped that the food could match the aesthetics. I figured that the only thing that could enhance the enjoyment of the view would be a delicious meal. Well, that and a couple of other things I won’t go into detail about.

The first experience I’m sharing was dinner there. The better half had been to a private function there and swore the food was excellent. Adding that to the view, I was certain I wouldn’t find an empty seat. She’d made a reservation though, so I was confident a meal was in store.

Sure enough, when we arrived, the man who she mentioned the reservation to acted surprised for a second but rallied instantly, and asked us to follow his colleague to the upstairs terrace. He was gracious and polite, as was his colleague. This theme would persist throughout the time I spent within the walls of this palace.

We sat at a table on the very edge of the bastion and half of the electricity being consumed that night by our tiny nation twinkled in the form of dots of light that outlined the landscape beneath. If the food is good, I thought, and finished the sentence to myself in many glorious ways.

The young lady who took over was great. Young as she is, she puts her excellent manners and great communication to work for her, making us feel like we were in safe hands without ever showing deference or signs of faltering. Menus were brought, specialities of the evening described, and drink orders taken with poise and pace. Whoever selects and trains the front of house staff has done a great job.

Not so, it appeared, in the kitchen. We ordered a bowl of mussels to share, looking forward to a pepata to get the appetite whirring. The mussels hadn’t been cooked long enough from frozen so the ones that had actually opened up tasted overcooked. The broth was nice though, making me think there is skill in the kitchen but poor investment in raw materials.

My main course, a risotto with asparagus and crab meat, turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. The rice was the wrong rice, there was so much asparagus that I could taste nothing else, and there was half an inch of liquid in the bowl, so the overcooked rice swam around by the time I’d made my way through the top third. I stopped there, opting to steal bits of osso buco from across the table. The osso buco had been heated up after it had been slow-cooked so it dried up a little. The flavour was lovely though, as were the potatoes it was served with.

The palazzo commands a view of half the island

There is a terrace across the courtyard that had been taken up by a private function. Both of our courses had been severely delayed and the quality wasn’t quite up to scratch, so we decided to blame the issues on an overstretched kitchen. While I always state that a restaurant ought to be consistent whatever the circumstances, I made an allowance this time.

A few days later I visited for lunch, chaperoned by two lovely ladies. We had an hour for lunch and happened to be very close by, so I suggested this place I’d been to, one with a lovely view. I said nothing about the food. I was keen on relegating the experience to an exception.

As soon as we walked in I made a dash for the terrace again but as I did so, a couple vacated a table in a little nook in the bastion. The place is perfect. It’s in the shade of the thick wall above and has a window that offers the same view as the terrace. I wondered about the metal bars in the window. It’s not like we were about to see a grappling hook fly through the aperture, embossed with the insignia of the Ottoman Empire. The ladies informed me that it could be to save patrons from falling to a messy death. Trust them to be right every time.

This time around I wanted to try the burger. It was safer and I’d spied one being served during my previous visit. The burger looked serious and is served on wooden trays with chips in a separate little basket and salad in its own bowl. It looked like someone cared about burgers and that deserves respect.

We waited for a while until a young man turned up to take our orders. He fit the bill, displaying prudence and prowess. The sisters ordered a seared fresh Scottish salmon and the linguine with prawns, chorizo, and spinach. We added a bottle of water and settled in for a chat.

After we’d been there for an hour, I decided to pay for the water and leave. Our time was up and we each had to get back to our respective lives. While the man at the till tried to figure this out, finally delivering a bill of €3.80 for a bottle of water, another member of staff told me our food was on its way out. The Scottish salmon takes long, he explained, and added that there were another two tables that ordered at the same time.

I reluctantly made my way back to our table and our food turned up a couple of minutes later. My chips were good but not great and the burger, called the Wellington burger, was actually quite decent. The sautéed mushrooms and the horseradish balanced each other neatly and the patty was a little over-treated but otherwise fine. The salad wasn’t dressed and there was nothing to dress it with at table. I’m not that keen on raw leaves tasting of raw leaves.

The linguine were being enjoyed by the sister to my right. There was half an inch of liquid at the bottom of the bowl this time and I pointed it out. She said it was fine. I tasted the linguine and they were quite enjoyable, with the lemon and garlic gremolata working like a treat with the prawns. The chorizo turned out to be tiny cubes of that bright pink stuff that passes off as the real thing at discount supermarkets. Simply leaving this out and having a less liquid gremolata can do justice to what is otherwise a lovely idea.

Her sister was digging into the salmon. It looked like it had been oven cooked rather than seared and had been cooked very evenly throughout without signs of searing on the outside. It was the cause of my having to gobble the burger rather than savour it slowly, so I refused to taste it on some principle or other.

I took one final peek at the view and we payed €15 each. The disparity between the level of service and the view, and the level and speed of the kitchen is unfortunate. And timing is such a crucial part of service, thwarting the best efforts of what is a competent front of house. I’ll be back for the view and will most definitely order drinks. I’m not sure I’ll order food unless I can afford the time though.

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