Ed eats

Commando Restaurant
Misraħ Iż-Żjara tal-Papa,
Mellieħa
Tel: 9949 8843

Food: 8/10
Service: 8/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 8/10

The social lives of many, many people have taken a hit with the launch of Rockstar’s latest and greatest iteration of the Grand Theft Auto franchise. Within three days of release, the company amassed a billion dollars in real world cash, proving that every record in the entertainment industry will eventually be broken by the world of gaming. Movies, music, porn and television fight for the top spot while the market puts its money where its thumbs areand pays more for a game than anything else.

Purely in the name of research, I attempted to buy a copy. I tried the major retailers first, but they’d bought 50 copies between the lot of them. Their spectacular lack of foresight makes me wonder what keeps these legacy retailers in business. Then I went to a tiny, but ever-helpful, little gaming shop in Iklin and the guy who single-handedly runs the shop sold four copies during the four minutes I spent in there. May he live long and prosper.

The game is great and I will spare you the details. I have just one issue with it. There are about five sources of food available in this massive simulation of America’s criminal underbelly and they are all variants of the fast-food circuit. Is it possible that a self-respecting gangster eats tacos and hot dogs all day? I’m fine with the gratuitous violence and the way the game rewards criminal intent (and action) but take serious issue with the fact that I can’t buy sushi at the very least.

At least food was considered worthy of inclusion within the game while the movie industry grossly under-represents the activity. Around 2,500 years ago, Sun Tzu dedicated a significant portion of his book on the art of warfare to the food required to feed an army and its horses, such is the impossibility of success without due consideration to this factor.

So when a friend (and eminently respectable gourmand) sent me a text asking whether I’d like to join him for dinner and “go commando”, I instantly agreed, not quite knowing what I was in for. As far as I know, going commando means turning up without really adhering to the commonly accepted policy about undergarments. It was either that, or there was a military connection to the meal. Whichever it was, I figured, I’m having dinner whether there’s anything under my jeans or not. His choice of phrase was deliberate, though. There is, in fact, a restaurant called Commando in Mellieħa and his wordplay was nothingmore than a ruse to see whether I’d comply.

Not only is my friend a lover of food and wine, he is also a gentleman of that rare breed that offers a ride when heading to dinner. Pickup is at 8pm, he said. And I knew he’d be outside five minutes before. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll refer to him as The Confessor. He’ll understand.

On the way we found out all about the origin of the name of the restaurant. The bar served the Royal Marine Commandos during the war. As a sign of gratitude, the Commando built a wooden sign saying ‘Commando bar’, and carried it all the way up from Għadira Bay, giving the place its rather unusual name. The bar has been in the same family for decades and a recent renovation by the current generation has turned it into a more ambitious restaurant.

The decor speaks for itself and it is instantly apparent that the word ‘bar’ has quite deservedly been replaced with ‘restaurant’. The stone walls in the bar area, and much of what I suppose was the bar itself remain. The table setting is,however, quite clearly restaurant material.

We were treated to smiles and polite assistance with manoeuvring ourselves into the half-bench type seating at one of the cosier tables inside the restaurant, preferring air-conditioning to the evening heat. Service throughout the night felt warm and family-like. While the menus betray classical training in the kitchen, likely in the French tradition that the hallowed road map guide so revered, the front of house keeps the family atmosphere going. I loved the unlikely combination and would encourage the family to keep things this way.

The menus are quite classical, with the exception of items that have been given an interesting, local twist. I stopped reading the list of starters when I got to the chicken liver pâté served with brioche, and a jam made of local grapes. You can see the French tradition, and yet there has been a little twist in the tale.

Fresh mussels were available as a special that evening, making it evident that the mussels on the menu are most likely of a frozen origin. This kind of slip will have to, in time, be remedied, but we weren’t letting this affect our opinion of the place until we’d sampled the food.

Service throughout was warm and family like

Two of us were having the pâté de foie, one opted for the fresh mussels, and The Confessor went with the breaded ġbejna with onion and tomato marmalade and a walnut dressing. The latter sounded rather interesting and I was curious about the way they’d be presented. I’ve seen many a botched attempt at breaded cheese.

Main courses are also quite traditional. Duck breast, rack of lamb, a couple of steaks and even a traditional Maltese rabbit dish make it to the list, along with the obligatory fillet of sea bass. Once again the choice was clear for me and The Confessor. We were having the rack of lamb. Neither of us cooks it that often and when this dish is well-prepared it is an indulgent experience of unctuous goodness. The ladies opted for the pan-seared duck breast, served “as rare as the chef would like it to be” and the veal cutlet. We added a bottle of Chablis, mainly because The Confessor and his much better half had just returned from Burgundy and were bubbling with excitement about it, like an agitated bottle of crémant.

Starters were served surprisingly quickly and the presentation goes a long way towards confirming that whoever is running the kitchen has an eye for detail and the discipline it takes to keep things simple. Presentation is attractive, understated and functional so rather than getting in the way, it is simply inviting.

The block of liver pâté is served alongside two slices of excellent, toasted brioche and with the grape jam inside its own little bowl. The pâté is a little flat, both in terms of texture and flavour, but I’m likely unfairly comparing it to its elder sibling – the fattened duck variety – so I suppose the best has been done with a dish that is served under the €10 mark. The jam is interesting, retaining plenty of the tannic astringency of the red grape and of an adequate sweetness.

The breaded cheeselets looked lovely, almost like they’d been machine prepared such is the attention that has been given to them. I didn’t taste them, but was assured they were lovely. I did taste the mussels though and they were as fresh as they could be for flown-in bivalves, swimming in a broth that was pleasantly understated.

Main courses took a little longer, as expected, and were once again minimally elegant in presentation. The lamb was ever so slightly overcooked but this didn’t stop me and The Confessor from picking the ribs clean. Their flavour is intense, pausing for breath only when competing with the fabulous mash of potatoes and garlic they were perched upon.

The duck breast was also very slightly above the cooking temperature I’d pick but it was still an accomplished dish, sweetened with honey and served atop excellent potatoes and veg that were as much deserving of the limelight as the duck itself.

I opted out of dessert but The Confessor was having none of that. He picked the hot chocolate fondant while his (much) better half chose the imqaret (date pastries). It turns out they’ve both ordered these desserts previously and the look on their faces while they ate them bordered on the obscene.

At €45 each, this is a very reasonably-priced approach to classical cuisine with a gentle twist. The service is pleasant and never formal, and timely but never rushed. The location might be out of the way for some but the rack of lamb is a dish worth returning for and I’m sure it won’t be long before I do so. Ditch the notion of Mellieħa being far, if that crossed your mind. You’re in for a treat that borders on fine dining without the annoying formality of it all.

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