Ed eats

Shakinah
Ġorġ Borg Olivier Street,
St Julian’s
Tel: 2731 8000

Food: 6/10
Service: 5/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 6/10

There are jobs that look deceptively easy. These often turn out to be tough in so many ways that I wonder how people do them at all. The truth is that if someone is really good at what they do, they can project a confidence that makes the task at hand appear simple to execute.

The service was painfully slow and we were in there for two hours during which we ate two courses

As a growing boy I was fascinated by skilled trades and pestered those who carried them out to give me a shot. In every case, I failed miserably. What looked really easy turned out to be absolutely impossible to do for someone who would turn out to be ambisinistrous (rubbish with both hands) like I did.

And because we fail to see this most of the time, we tend to think we can do stuff that we really can’t.

How hard can it be to wait tables? Take orders from your clients, ferry these to the kitchen, and when the food is done, take it to the table.

If you agree with that, I’m afraid you are very far from the truth.

Running the front of house in a restaurant is a fine art and a science at the same time. Not only does it turn a meal into a wonderful (or awful, depending on the service) experience, it is also where a restaurant makes or breaks its balance sheet.

Before indignant reactions about the importance of the kitchen start heading my way, allow me to say that the kitchen is an obviously tough job, so there are few people who think to themselves: “I’ll just find a job as a pastry chef for the summer, then get back to studying law.”

The opposite is true of the front of house. Given patience, stamina, a good understanding of language and a healthy dose of masochism, it is possible to survive waiting tables at a pizzeria for a certain amount of time without proper training.

If, however, you intend to turn this into an art that you want to be proud of, nothing short of dedication and training can turn you into a maître d’ whose magic turns meals into memories.

Sadly, the art of restaurant service is overlooked almost across the board in Malta. It isn’t encountered often and, probably as a result of this, most diners don’t even expect it.

Last week I decided to try out a particular restaurant in St Julian’s. I won’t mention the name because I didn’t actually get there. Parking close by proved to be an issue, so I parked quite far away and decided to walk. On the way there I spotted a restaurant I’d never seen before and, attracted by a really lovely interior, changed plans and walked in.

The menu outside contained all the evidence of a restaurant that served Indian and North African food, two cuisines I thoroughly enjoy. So into Shakinah we headed, feeling pleased with the serendipity.

The space is quite tiny – a 30-cover capacity it turned out – and most of the tables were occupied, so we were lucky that a table for two remained.

We waited for a while as the couple that was running the front of house attended to two of the tables. Eventually we were shown to a table by a very polite lady who also saw to our menus.

I’d like to get the description of the service out of the way immediately to prevent having to punctuate the rest of the review with tiny accounts of the way our evening panned out. The two people who were running the show are indeed a couple, and the husband confirmed this during a little speech he delivered at one point. Neither of them has been trained, and this emerged from the way the evening progressed.

They are both extremely polite people who are eager to please and to make every aspect of the experience work. Unfortunately they’ve only been in this business for two weeks and this makes itself felt almost across the board. The service was painfully slow and we were in there for two hours during which we ate two courses.

Our mains were brought to our table with a gap of a couple of minutes between them. The kitchen is probably still finding its feet and this is where an attentive and well-rehearsed front of house steps in to make up for these small snags.

Opening a bottle of wine with a lovely double-lever corkscrew proved to be a major challenge, challenging enough for me to take the bottle and open it myself. Most reds worth their salt use a 49mm (or thereabouts) cork. This requires the entire screw to enter the cork and using both levers makes it easy to pull out. A two-minute session with a sommelier can teach this simple trick.

The wine, stored on a shelf very close to the ceiling lights, was at a rather high temperature and I mentioned the temperature when I tasted it. This is normally a cue for whoever is serving to rectify the situation. An ice bucket will shock the wine but we were drinking a modest Kefraya priced at €22 so I wouldn’t have been fussed.

Bizarrely for such a small outfit, a corner of the restaurant has been occupied by a lovely little bar, and this is run by a third member of service staff, performing all bar duties and handling the bills. One would imagine that this luxury should speed things up considerably.

The place does look lovely though. It has been very tastefully done up and every little detail really works. Colours are welcoming and peaceful, lighting is low but not too dim and music plays at a comfortable level in the background.

The menus are extensive and cover a really interesting spread of Maghreb and Indian cuisine. They have, like the rest of the place, been designed with attention to detail and aesthetic so they’re as functional as they are pleasant to look at.

I decided to stick with one continent and picked the North African offering. As tough as it was to decide what to pick for starters, I settled for a harira – a spiced lamb soup that I normally can’t get enough of – while the better half decided to try the kobebah. These are little deep-fried balls of minced meat and pine nuts.

My choice of main course was much simpler because I just love tajine, and Shakinah offers my favourite in a choice of chicken, lamb and beef. I love the way the intensity of lamb flavours this stew, which is served in its own earthenware. Raysh Mashweya, grilled lamb cutlets, were the better half’s choice.

My harira was excellent. Plenty of coriander and citrus zest gave vigour to this unctuous broth, and chickpeas provided little balls of texture. As predicted, I couldn’t get enough of it and almost ordered another portion. The kobebah are much less interesting, suffering when compared to the intensity of the harira. They were well executed but lacked any real character.

The lamb cutlets are served on an impressive grill that occupied much of our table and smoked all the time as the charcoal inside smouldered. They were sadly cooked through, and so offered little tenderness.

My tajine was generous if a little insipid. Large chunks of lamb were not as tender as I’ve come to expect of this slow-cooked delight, and I struggled to determine the normally heady blend of spices that the ras el hanout provides.

I think the star of the main courses was the wonderful side dish of ruzz lebane, a rice dish with minced beef, nuts and cinnamon.

At a shade under €40 per person, this isn’t on the inexpensive side of the spectrum. We’d even skipped desserts for fear of another wait. It is now time for a self-imposed wait.

The plans for Shakinah feel ambitious so I’ve decided to wait for a few months until they’ve found their feet properly and give the place another shot. I have a feeling they’ll have upped their game and I intend to give that menu another shot before properly making up my mind about the place.

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