Ed eats

Fumia
La Vecchia Dogana
Sa Maison Road
Pietà
Tel: 2131 7053

Food: 6/10
Service: 5/10
Ambience: 7/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 6.5/10

Sometimes it feels like I’ve been writing about dining out forever. It is such a part of me that I can’t seem to shake the way I pick apart an eating experience even when I know I’m not writing about a restaurant.

I’m consoled when I realise that the feeling is pretty normal for many of us. We tend to view ourselves in the present as the culmination of a life’s worth of experiences – as if this is who we are and who we will be for the foreseeable future. All I have to do is think of myself a decade ago. Things were different and one difference was that I wasn’t writing about food. I was just busy enjoying it, learning about it and becoming increasingly curious about it with every new experience.

I’m not sure how long ago it was but I’m pretty sure it was before I ever considered a newspaper column, when someone told me about a restaurant at the very top of a car park in Sliema. Even then, I thought the location was quite odd. I went there anyway, in the company of a couple of people who loved food then and love it even more now.

The restaurant was called Fumia and it was manned by an enthusiastic team of Sicilians, passionate about food, wine and service. They turned the rooftop of a car park into an unassuming gastronomic heaven and, quite possibly, helped shape my expectations of the whole dining experience. If these guys had turned an unlikely location into an idyllic oasis of calm that churned out dish after dish of accomplished simplicity, then there must be more of this out there. And compared to the present day, there was a pitiful paucity of comparable dining options.

They were busy then, and as their reputation spread, so did their wings. Off the roof they flew and dived deep into the bowels of a building commissioned by a grandmaster we all know by name.

Manoel built a theatre and Fumia decided to occupy the underground vaulted cellar just adjacent to it. This was a choice spot I decided to visit and by then I was busy writing about my experiences. It was quite a treat every time I visited and, even if somewhat overpriced, I visited quite a few times. Then, when the experience became very predictable, my visits decreased in frequency until I practically forgot about Fumia.

They recently moved to the old customs house in Sa Maison, the same ill-fated building that has already seen two restaurants open to much fanfare, only to sheepishly close their doors a while later. Third time’s a charm goes the old adage, with very little to substantiate this wee nonsensical numerical whimsy.

The building is quite pretty, particularly by night. It was done up tastefully to begin with and, when there isn’t the annoying drone of daytime traffic, it stands proud and isolated, shining light on to the black glass surface of a still night in Marsamxett Harbour. Parking is doddle, too, and this is another point in favour of the location.

Once inside, we were led to our table on the mezzanine and I was pleased that this happened. The dining area downstairs was almost entirely occupied by a table for two dozen and I could picture this turning into a rather raucous night if we sat too close.

The lady who brought menus was quite polite and helpful and when spoken to in English by my guest that night, she switched from the Italian that is spoken as default here. I’m normally quite annoyed by the arrogant assumption that everyone in Malta prefers to speak Italian when at a restaurant run by Italians, so I was pleased with the switch.

Somehow, every other member of staff who visited our table that night to top up our cutlery, serve wine or deliver food appeared to be in a particularly dour mood. It seemed like the enthusiasm I knew the place for has been dampened for some reason and this changes the course of an evening. They all did their jobs with relative efficiency but seemed quite unhappy to do so. If I want functional service, I have several other options that don’t come at a premium.

The menus haven’t really changed since the last time I visited. There are the antipasti, a list of pasta dishes, several approaches to fish and a few meat dishes. Fumia has always made it quite clear that fish is their speciality and this is reflected in the menus.

I felt like a simple pasta dish to start with and was up for fresh fish for mains while my victim that night was all for the gnocchi di patate with shrimps and mushrooms, followed by grilled squid. The pasta menu offers quite a choice of simple, seafood-based dishes. I liked the sound of vongole veraci because these guys can be trusted to treat live clams as well as they deserve to be.

While we waited for our starters, our palates were gently coaxed into action with a couple of simple variations on the bruschetta theme. One was with a sweet bell pepper paste and the other with tomato, dried herbs and olive oil. We’d also ordered a bottle of a simple Sicilian white wine and, insipid as Inzolia normally is, it formed a pleasant aperitif with the bruschetta. I just hope they’d change glasses if we’d decided to pay a little more for a better wine. The cutlery and crockery are what you’d expect of a middle-of-the-road trattoria.

About 15 minutes later, the lady who had greeted us initially and taken our orders apologetically told me that they’d run out of clams. I quickly swapped my order for my second preference – spaghetti with sea urchins.

Another 15 minutes passed. I kept peeking at the long table downstairs, figuring that if it finally filled with diners, we’d have an even longer wait.

Fumia has always made it quite clear that fish is their speciality and this is reflected in the menus

Luckily, they had quite a late booking so the table started to fill up when we were almost done.

We had ordered starter portions of pasta and they were really quite restrained. Keep this in mind if you’re one who can handle large quantities of food. My spaghetti ricci was quite disappointing, with a rich stock forming the majority of the flavour of the liquid that easily slipped off the overcooked pasta.

The gnocchi was a slightly better dish but we’re talking about shades of grey not degrees of brilliance here. The bill would later reveal that the portion size brought down the price of each of these plates to €6 and €8, so we were paying very little. This does not justify a disappointingly underwhelming dish though, not when Fumia has quite the reputation to uphold.

The wait for our main course was more reasonable. Presentation is ascetic and does away with niceties like garnish. This austerity carries over to the sides, with simple green salad, some lovely bell peppers, a couple of slices of insipid aubergine and a Sicilian salad of tired, skinned oranges and raw onion. Typical of Fumia is the addition of a plate of toasted Maltese bread with a little olive oil on top.

My fish was grilled, skin side down, and dressed with a decent olive oil. It was quite masterfully done and I expected nothing less of their kitchen. Also pretty decent was the grilled squid, with the texture of the squid preserved thanks to a perfect cooking time at a high temperature.

We paid just over €40 each, knowing I’d have paid that much for both of us if we’d travelled a few short miles to Sicily. We were paying a premium for the lovely setting and the fact that food in Malta always costs much more than our neighbours pay for it.

I’d have been happier to part with the cash had the experience been a more pleasant one and I walked out trying to convince myself that they must have had a bad night. I had really hoped for a fantastic evening, having fallen in love with Fumia so many years ago.

As things stand, I’ll be waiting for confirmation from others that I was really unlucky that night before attempting another visit.

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