Steve Mercieca and grandmother Francis Mercieca.

Steve Mercieca

I clearly remember all the delicious food my grandmother used to prepare for us when I was a child. It’s hard to pick a favourite. But I will always remember how she cooks the most tender and juicy cuts of meat. And her chips are so crunchy. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so scrumptious.

When my grandmother would prepare her Bolognese sauce, the smell would haunt the house for hours. I remember sneaking into the kitchen with my brother and cousins and dipping hunks of Maltese bread into the big pot of sauce.

And how can I forget my grandmother’s New Year’s Day rice balls – they were an annual treat and an all time family favourite. My whole family would compete who could eat the most rice balls. This was one of the things my brother always beat me at. Grandmother’s menu also included lasagne, baked rice, tagliatelle – I could go on for ages.

I used to look forward to eating lunch at my grandmother every Friday after school with my brother. We would also have Sunday lunch with my entire family at her house, so I had plenty of opportunities to savour my grandmother’s dishes. The year would reach a climax at Christmas, which was always a huge family and food affair.

Now, even though things have changed a little and life has become busier, my brother, cousins and I still make time to enjoy our grandmother’s cooking every Saturday. We can even place our order with her of what dish we’d like her to cook for us the following week. Only grandmothers spoil you like this.

I’m actually documenting all her recipes. I had attempted this a few years ago but I lost my phone and all the notes I had on it. Now I’m slowly savouring all her labour of love on a notepad.

Last week I attempted to make baked rice using a recipe she gave me. Even though it turned out very similar to hers, it didn’t taste the same. Grandmothers cook with old pots and pans and just enough love to make it impossible to copy their recipes.

Lisa Busuttil and grandmother Maria Dolores Micallef at nanna’s house dishing out lampuki pie to the family.

Lisa Busuttil

Whenever I visit my grandmother, I always find an abundance of food waiting for me. My favourite dish is undoubtedly lampuki pie, which she makes with fresh lampuki from the fish vendor who comes around Ħamrun every week selling the fresh catch of the day. The pie is filled with a steaming blend of peas, potatoes, onion, garlic, parsley, cabbage, spinach and tomato sauce encased in a crisp homemade pastry.

When I was younger, after school, I would happily sit and watch my grandmother whip up some hearty homemade ravioli or rich octopus risotto. I would love it when she would ask me to help her. My grandfather was a chef in the Royal Navy and my grandmother says that she learnt a lot of her recipes from him.

Whether we would visit her for lunch or for a big family meal on Sunday, we would always eat until we couldn’t stand up. I couldn’t resist taking seconds or thirds. It’s not about being hungry – it’s about the tempting taste. It’s like grandma Maria’s mission is to fill up her family’s tummies.

Sunday lunches consisted of five course meals starting with a simple broth with fresh cheeselets, lasagna, some kind of roast meat or Maltese sausage, grandma’s version of a trifle for the first course of dessert, followed by ice cream and then fruit and nuts.

Our whole family live in the same area, so grandmother is always in the kitchen cooking up something on the off chance that someone will pop by to say hello. Her fridge and freezer are overloaded with all kids of fruit, vegetables, meat and fish. After feeding us a nourishing meal she never sends us off without bags of plums, tomatoes, or other extra local goodies she buys from the market.

My grandmother’s passion for cooking has rubbed off on me. I love using her traditional recipes and adding a modern twist to them. However she has been cooking longer than I have so she has her own techniques to make food taste just right.

Grandma Maria makes delicious rabbit. She fries the rabbit in gravy and wine and puts it in the oven. I add raisins, bay leaves and nuts. Grandmothers tend to cook traditional recipes. When I tell my grandmother to add some coconut milk or curry to a pot she’s lovingly stirring up, her face squirms in disagreement. These are foreign intruders in her kitchen.

The smell of her cooking conjures up food memories that are irreplaceable by any fancy ingredient. I hope I will always cook with the same deliciousness and abundance for my daughter Kylie.