Ed eats

Brown’s Kitchen
Vault 4,
Valletta Waterfront
Tel: 2122 7410

Food: 9/10
Service: 9/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 8.5/10

I am not quite sure whether it is my impression or whether there is a real increase in the number of people who consider their olfactory to be more than an early warning system and to whom food bears more importance than simply a means to survive another day.

Wild boar, frog’s legs and kangaroo made me lose focus

There is a word that I am circumventing but there is no escaping it. Are there more ‘foodies’?

When that word turned up I tasted it, turned it around in my mouth for a while, sucked sharply and found no astringency. I liked it and thought I would do so for quite a while.

Unfortunately, it has turned a little sour and I do not quite like the taste of it any more. It has become quite divisive, almost like you are either a ‘foodie’ or you’re clueless – a non-foodie biped that is unfairly consuming perfectly good food without enjoying it as much as a proper person (by foodie definition) would.

Regardless of the politics and the vernacular, this can be filed in the box labelled ‘good things’. The more people there are who really care about food the better. I am naturally being selfish here because such is my nature but as I benefit from this growth in food culture, so do others.

The more savvy the market, the better the quality of food it demands. And as a result, restaurants are driven to pull their socks up and serve a wider variety of food of better quality.

Consider London. Until 10 short years ago, dining out in the UK was a blot in the empire’s book of achievements. Today the city is dotted with excellent eateries.

I have never thought of the Valletta Waterfront as a centre for culinary excellence. There is a reasonable spread of dining options at a reasonable range of prices but I have never had a single good reason to look forward to heading there purely for gastronomic indulgence.

Whenever I have been to the lovingly restored dock, it was someone else who planned the evening and I made my way over, not quite surfing the rolling waves of unchecked enthusiasm.

On one such evening I was led to one of the restaurants that is, like all the others, a half-indoor and half-outdoor affair. The outdoor areas are pleasingly uniform and more creativity is expressed in the way each establishment interacts with the gorgeous vaults without really coming into contact with the stone.

I found out that we were having dinner at Brown’s Kitchen, a restaurant that has only been around since the late summer, and that has made excellent use of the inside space. Interesting lighting at different heights and a stark austerity of furniture design makes for a remarkably easy space to settle into.

We were greeted by a young man who was running that evening’s service and who is evidently very well-trained.

Menus at hand, I flipped through, half paying attention to the conversation and half picking out dishes and ingredients. Reaching a page that mentioned venison, wild boar, frog’s legs and kangaroo made me lose focus on the conversation in an instant and all my attention was suddenly drawn to the menu.

There was no use pretending to be interested in what Bob (for I will refer to my friend as Bob to protect his excellent reputation) had to say. Luckily he knows me well enough to make all sorts of allowances for unsociable behaviour where food is concerned.

I backpedalled through the menu, wanting to pick a starter before I had to suffer the agony of picking from the list that read like the centre pages of the carnivore’s manual. Kangaroo pie is on the first page, calling my name sweetly like a snake suggesting I bite an apple. This is a double bonus. Not only do I get to taste the kangaroo pie, but it helps minimise the guilt of eliminating it from my choice of main course.

Three omnivores sat at that table and onlookers would have been forgiven for thinking we were exclusively carnivorous. Raw beef, in the form of a tartare and a carpaccio were ordered for starters in addition to my kangaroo pie.

For the main course, the three of us wanted all the meat on the menu but, unaffected by the sip of Chianti we’d had so far, admitted that this was unreasonable.

Then Bob had a brainwave. We’d pick three of our favourites and ask if the chef could prepare a dish with all three that we could then share.

This time we were attended to by a young lady, and a rather attractive one at that. She listened to our excited babble and I suppose she went off to let the chef know that three ravenous creatures from another planet had landed and had just a few hours to sample all the creatures the planet hosted, for when she returned she was smiling and willing to accede to our request.

I was the only one new to the place. The others had sampled the USDA ribeye and the venison and swore that they were excellent. I added a rack of lamb to the mix because wild boar was not available.

I was pleased to learn that not all the exotic meats are available all year round; they depend on market availability. We dug into fresh bread and olives until the starters were served and resumed the conversation that Bob had tried to engage in before I’d rudely ignored him.

He did not get far. His carpaccio was served with rucola and parmeggiano shavings and, in the name of science, I sampled it and liked what I tasted. The tartare was served with caviar and diced bell peppers.

I am very conservative when it comes to tartare and I stick to the traditional egg-yolk. If I could suggest one addition to the menu it would be to split the tartare into two – the Brown’s Kitchen way and the good old boring way. That would give people like me a choice.

My kangaroo pie was excellent, with very tender meat that had a wonderfully delicate citrus zest to it, joined by a delightful compote of pear in red wine that added a sweet counterpart to the rich flavour.

I always regarded the animal as a celestial joke, a comical echo of the fearsome T. Rex that, stripped of a fearsome jaw of incisors, is condemned to hop around flapping its silly little arms. Since that formidable pie, I have elevated the kangaroo in my esteem.

The chef had, meanwhile, gone to work on our meat dishes and these were served plated so each of us had a third of a portion of ribeye, venison and lamb. I was the only one at the table who eats meat as close to raw as possible and had refrained from imposing this so the cooking temperature was medium.

I feared the worst but the chef had his magic working that night and the ribeye was fabulous, even cooked to this temperature. As lovely as the rack of lamb looked, it was cooked beyond what I would normally enjoy but I was the only one who was not attacking it with vigour.

The highlight of the evening, competing with the kangaroo pie, was the venison. The fillet of deer was excellent and unbelievably tender, rich in flavour and juicy throughout. As Jimmy Carr likes to say, venison is dear. But every bite is worth any price we were paying for this.

I was quite pleased to pick up the tab for just under €40 per person. The quantity, variety and quality of food we had been served had far surpassed my expectations. Not only was it highly enjoyable, it left me wondering what the rest of the list of exotic meats tasted like.

I will have to be back for more and I have planned to slowly eat my way through the menu. Only next time I will warn my guests not to contemplate any form of conversation that they’re not expecting me to ignore.

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