Ed eats

La Cuccagna,
47, Amery Street,
Sliema
Tel: 2134 6703

Food: 7/10
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 6/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 7/10

Over the past couple of years I have witnessed a strange phenomenon. A growing number of peopleseem to be having themselves tested for food intolerance and every one of them seems to beintolerant to a number of staple foods that they have happily consumed all their lives.

There is confidence about this pizza,the knowledge that every pizza served will turnout just right

I am not referring to allergies. That’s another story and an allergic reaction to food can be extremely dangerous – lethal in some cases. I am referring to an immunological intolerance where I could be intolerant to wheat, for instance.

Having eaten bread all my life, this test basically tells me thatI should not have and that if Iavoid it, I will feel better than Ido normally.

I do not doubt the results of these tests but have seen a few that seriously raise eyebrows. One person I know tested intolerant to wheat, rice, pork, yeast, milk, most vegetables, eggs and a number of other foodstuffs I hadn’t heard of.

Basically, this person was left with a particular strain of Nepali snail and the left breast of the adolescent turkey as the only two foods she could eat. I’d rather not find that out, thank you very much.

Everyone I know who has been tested follows a pattern. They stop eating everything on the list for a while, realise the sheer impossibility of the task, and gradually reintroduce the items that cause them least trouble.

The more troublesome ones cause all sorts of bellyaches as well as fatigue and irritability so avoiding them is pleasant not only tothe avoidee, but also the people around them.

The ‘tested’, for such I have labelled them, develop their own tricks to ensure avoidance of offending ingredients. One unscientific method for avoiding wheat, for instance, is to order gluten-free products. The likelihood is that a wheat substitute, like rice flour and corn flour, have been used since it is easier to swap wheat out altogether than remove the gluten from it. This works in most cases. When it does not, it causes varying degrees of discomfort but noserious damage.

I was heading out to dinner last week, accompanied by a fellow eater of all living creatures and by one person who’d been ‘tested’. She can’t eat wheat, among other things, but wanted to join us for a pizza. The condition was that we visit a place that served gluten-free dough and La Cuccagna in Sliema is one such place, we were told.

We the untested had no objection so long as we could consume all the gluten and wheat we wanted to. Off we went, braving the impossibility of parking on Amery Street. We thanked our lucky stars for living in a country where hardly anyone reads road signs.

A sign outside La Cuccagna said we couldn’t park there during specified loading and unloading times. No one had bothered readingthat far and we occupied thehandy spot.

The restaurant is split into two, with a large dining area just below street level and a slightly smaller one upstairs. The only way was down however, and we waited a couple of minutes to be seated.

The place was packed with happy diners and, as people vacated their tables, more were seated. I’m always optimistic when faced with this sort of turnover.

Our table was close to one of the corners and adjacent to a table that hosted three young children who, way past their bedtime, protested loudly all evening.

They took turns to moan and upset their parents in what appeared to me to be a very cleverly planned choreography. I couldn’t help admiring their cunning plan.

We were served by a young man who did all he could to pretend he was enjoying himself but whizzing through tables and contending with the noise had evidently frayed his nerves. He’d pop any time.

I just hoped we’d be out before he did. To his credit, he maintained the charade throughout the meal and made a valiant effort to smile as often as he could.

There was no music playing that night and the conversations formed a constant chatter like breakfast service at the tower of Babel. A look around the place reveals that they’ve made serious efforts to mitigate the volume, with acoustic treatment of the ceiling and all corners. I’d hate to think of what it was like before this intervention.

The menus are the typical pizza, pasta, and obligatory main courses of beef, chicken and fish. The pizza menu looked appealing and I came very close to ordering the Bellini, with aubergine, courgettes and mozzarella di bufala.

Then, I spotted glowing green text on an illuminated menu board with their special dish of the day. Pasta with everything. The ingredients listed included sundried tomatoes, mozzarella di bufala, salami calabrese, garlic, tomato sauce, olives and artichoke cream. Live dangerously, I thought, and settled for this unlikely concoction.

The ‘tested’ ordered a Quattro stagioni pizza on a gluten-free base. My fellow omnivore went with the Capricciosa. We also ordered a bottle of Donnafugata Sedara, an easy Sicilian red.

Our wine was served almost immediately and rather smartly. Food didn’t take long either,quite a feat when the number of people being served at once is taken into account.

The gluten-free pizza is significantly smaller in diameter than the regular one. The base, covered in regular tiny holes, looks like it’s been commercially produced. It is thin, crisp, and dry, holding out even when laden with ingredients.

I found it too crisp, almost brittle, for my liking but this didn’t seem to deter the ‘tested’. She munched through every last crumb, confident that it would cause no harm.

The capricciosa was generous in size and equally generous in toppings. This is pizza at its best and years of experience are evident.

There is a confidence about this pizza, the knowledge that every pizza served by La Cuccagna will turn out just right. The outer rim is dry and crisp, with progressively increasing moisture towards he centre that gives a juicy bite without being soggy.

This is the kind of pizza where, after having eaten the first slice, one is expected to nod happily to himself in the knowledge that all is right with the world for a few moments.

My pasta was, as expected, a veritable onslaught to the palate. I enjoyed it at first but as myolfactory started to be overwhelmed by the sheer assault of flavours, I thought I might have been better off sticking to the knitting and ordering a pizza. Eventually my poor taste buds shut down altogether. The pasta was cooked al dente, the ingredients all fine in their own right, the sum total was a little too much. I knew this before I ordered and was paying for my rash decision to whack myself with thisdish. I’m sure it’s perfectly enjoyable for some and have only myself to blame.

The bill for the lot was just under €50. Food prices are perfectly reasonable and the wine pushed the bill up a bit so we felt we’d paid as much as we should have. As for the noise, my companions agreed, I was once again to blame.

I know that I have a personal preference for eating in peace and quiet and should have thought about this before accepting to eat out on a Sunday night at a restaurant that’s perfectly happy to host a hundred (I’m guessing) people in a single, large space.

I will definitely be sampling La Cuccagna’s pizza again very soon because it is among the best around. I’ll order a take-out though, and eat in the hallowed silence of my cave. When I eventually evolve into a sociable creature, I’ll pop in for a convivial repast.

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