Ed eats

Stanjata Café
113, Valley Road
Birkirkara
Tel: 2713 1990

Food: 9/10
Location: 9/10
Service: 8/10
Value: 9/10
Overall: 9/10

Lunch is, all too often, the culinary equivalent of a pencil sharpener. That tool that hides in a drawer until desperate necessity causes us to rummage for one and, upon completion of its function, we promptly forget about it.

This mainly applies to those of us who spend their days at a workplace that’s not a restaurant or their own homes. Which let’s face it, does represent a fair portion of people who work for a living. We tend to interrupt our day with a meal that’s there to keep us going until dinner time.

This means I’m out almost every day, hunting around for a meal that will, at worst, keep me sane until supper. At best, lunch can be the highlight of my day or, I keep hoping, even a culinary landmark. The latter is unlikely to happen on a weekday, especially not crammed into the time I normally allow myself for lunch, but I keep my options open.

There are plenty of pretty decent options available scattered around the country. If you add the number of great food trucks to the restaurants and cafes that take lunch seriously, there’s a fair spread of styles, price points, and quality that you can choose from. Typically, though, you have to pay quite handsomely for a proper lunch.

Also, the good places tend to bunch up in clusters based on the busier areas. I can’t blame the food trucks, for instance, from rubbing bumpers around the Ta’ Xbiex area, because that’s where they make a decent living. Valletta and most seaside areas also benefit from clusters of eating options. Venture out of these hotspots however, and the number of available options falls off quite sharply.

Some time ago I stumbled across a café that took me by surprise. It is hidden away in Valley Road, nestling under the canopy of the huge trees that provide the road with welcome shade. It is sandwiched between car dealers and has to face a motely crew of furniture showrooms. It also has the most humble of facades so, unless you’re really looking for it, you could easily drive past.

I’d heard someone mention the name ‘Stanjata’ when I spotted the place, but I couldn’t remember the context so I walked in without expectations. I walked out pretty impressed. I’d eaten a spaghetti carbonara that was very close to perfect. This is a rarity and, had the chef used guanciale, I’d have probably elevated the dish to my favourite carbonara outside Italy.

So, I returned a week later with one of my favourite partners in lunch to give it another whirl. This time, I picked their lovely green Thai prawn risotto. The portion was made for giants, so I had to leave a couple of grains of rice behind but once again, the dish was nigh on impeccable. She asked whether I’d be reviewing the place. I said I wouldn’t. A place so tidily tucked away ought to remain a secret.

Our collective first reaction was an appreciation for the service and the attractive dishes in front of us

And here I am, against my better judgement, disclosing the secret on these pages, hoping there will be something terribly interesting on the front page so few readers will actually make it to this section.

Stanjata, a Maltese word for a metal kettle that we’ve all but lost to time, has kept a local charm going for it with lovely little touches around the place to make it feel homely and very approachable. With exposed walls, wood panelling, and understated furniture, its done up with the kind of décor that will last. It isn’t overly hipster – it is good design that can afford to be quite timeless in its function, simple materials, and lack of pretence.

Then, the man who runs the dining area turns up and seals the feeling that you’re welcome here. He brings a smile and an eagerness to find the most appropriate table, hands out menus, and provides a description of the daily specialities. He’s evidently very acquainted with the food so he helps with queries and recommendations.

I was with a friend and we were meeting another two people there, so our man pulled two tables together to make sure we’d be comfortable. This was a good move because, when the last couple turned up they brought a charming young man with them who, with the wisdom only a six year-old can possess, dedicated his lunchtime to teaching me a language that only the two of us would ever understand.

He likes the simple things in life. He wanted pasta with cheese and nothing else. Our host was quick on the uptake, assuring us they’d be happy to prepare just that. The daily speciality was spaghetti with mussels while a couple of specialities from the week before had made it to the regular menu.

We perused the menus, scanning through the list of salads, sandwiches, pasta dishes, and burgers. There’s also a list of chef specials that includes a steak and another couple of pasta dishes.

We placed our orders and added a jug of water with mint and ginger to go around. I think this ought to be a staple of every menu. It’s such a delightful and simple source of refreshment that I’m surprised we don’t see more of it. And the guys at Stanjata grow their own herbs, so it doesn’t get any fresher.

As we waited, the café filled up until there wasn’t an empty chair in sight. The chef, busy at his open kitchen, prepared table after table, turning out dishes that had us rubbernecking to see them as they passed by. If I remember correctly, there wasn’t a dish on the menu that sold for more than a tenner with the exception of the steak.

Yet, this man was putting all the flair and energy and effort that one expects of a brasserie kitchen. We waited a perfectly reasonable 20 minutes for our turn to be served and, when we were, all the dishes were served at once and without us having to claim our dish. The man who’d taken our orders placed what each of us had ordered in front of us with a touch of pride.

Portions are generous. Our collective first reaction was an appreciation for the service and the attractive dishes in front of us. Once we’d taken that in, we all wondered whether we’d manage to finish our food.

I’d tasted the Thai risotto but just had to take another forkful. It is very lively, with a zesty citrus aroma and even more of this in the mouth. There’s an elegance about this dish and a distant peppery spice that keeps the flavours distinct so you can go through it picking out individual components as you go along.

I’m not usually big on salads because I’ve had one too many boring one. The avocado salad is quite the opposite, with exceptionally fresh greens, sweet caramelised onion, crisp bacon bits, and a delightful dressing. There’s plenty of avocado, freshly baked bread, and even hard boiled eggs joining the fray. I almost felt a pang of envy so I finally dug into my own meal.

This was probably the dish that surprised me most. I’ve eaten seafood pasta at countless fish restaurants and this is up there with the really memorable ones. Plenty of fresh mint, perhaps a little unusual in this context, gave the dish a distinct character. The mussels were really fresh and had been generously added to the plate, plump and having spent some time cooking in a sauce based on white wine and a proper olive oil.

I left the more complex to the last, stealing a generous forkful of tagliatelle with tomato sauce and tender, slow-cooked, spicy meatballs. It had baby rucola and a heap of parmesan shavings for an explosion of umami. Like the rest of the cooking, there was a disciplined restraint to the seasoning so it tasted of excellent home cooking and cosy winter evenings.

Before we paid €10 each for the meal, I had to ask if they open for dinner but alas they don’t, for now, but plan to do so in the future. So my plan to systematically eat through the menu will have to be carried out during several lunchtime forays to this most unexpected of locations. And, judging by the consistency I’ve experienced so far, I’m in for quite the enjoyable quest.