Ed eats
Don Serafino Al Molo
Level -5 Portomaso
St Julian’s
Tel: 2138 4300
Food: 9/10
Service: 9/10
Ambience: 9/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 9/10
Christmas is upon us. Just a couple of days now and the frenetic activity will reach a dizzying climax of roasts and wrapping paper.
The finest dining is a balance between eating well and feeling well and Don Serafino have struck the balance perfectly
It is tempting to be cynical and lament the commercial aspect of this period but I have a much more positive take on it. It is a time that is good for most business, not least the food and drink industry. We tend to spend more on quantity and quality, with the upside of consuming more food of better quality.
There are the awful mass-produced meals that are dealt out as identical plates to large groups of people who walk away with full bellies but no real olfactory stimulus. Ultimately I have little pity for those who fall prey. It is usually their choice.
There exist countless opportunities for group meals at restaurants that retain the ability to serve good food to groups, so choosing the more mundane places is a sin that falls quite squarely on those who make this appalling choice.
The real benefit, however, is that this is a time of year to seek the company of those who matter and to spend time in their presence. A couple of days off work make this possible. Good food is a good excuse to get together. And so regardless of one’s beliefs, this is one rock solid reason to appreciate the season.
A few weeks ago I had dinner at the Dragonara Brasserie that used to be run by the owners of the highly acclaimed La Locanda Don Serafino – the Michelin-starred restaurant in Sicily. I quickly found out that these hadn’t simply closed shop and headed back to their own Mediterranean island. They rethought their strategy and headed to Al Molo at Portomaso.
There’s an interesting thought. This place has always been something of a fine dining restaurant. Who knows what the gastronomical wizardry of Vincenzo Candiano can make of this venue? After all, he’s repeatedly attracted the attention of that exceedingly picky group of eaters that the Michelin judges are known to be. This was going to be worth a visit.
The first perk is the parking. It is as easy as driving all the way down the Portomaso car park to the right level and walking through the restaurant’s rear entrance.
Little has been done to the place since the last time I visited. I liked the warm elegance of the place then and I like it now. The tables have been set differently and look a little more contemporary and continental but other than that, little is perceptibly different.
We were greeted by an exceedingly polite Sicilian man in a suit who, almost deferentially, asked if we had a reservation. We hadn’t but this was no problem. He led us to a table and offered an aperitif, then returned with the menus.
On the way to our table we witnessed quite a rare scene. A fisherman had just delivered a baby swordfish that looked like it had just been caught. I edged closer to take a look and was greeted by Bartolomeo, the man who used to run the front of house when Don Serafino was at the Dragonara Casino.
He noticed my enthusiasm for this beautiful aquatic predator and pointed out the eyes – clear pools of shimmering black. It is fresh, I agreed, and he beamed happily.
Reading the menu and recalling this encounter made me realise that Al Molo under the Don Serafino guise has taken a sidestep away from fine dining. Not only had Bartolomeo had made us feel welcome in a very disarming way, the menu was no longer priced all the way up to the level we expect of fine dining. The fish dishes never exceed the €20 mark and the most extravagant of starters tips the scale at €17.
When our host returned to take our orders I asked him to treat us to whatever it is they thought we should eat. He asked if we were up to their ‘Grande plateau’, the extravagant starter I referred to before. Well, how can one refuse? He said it would be a pity to miss out on the fresh catch and I couldn’t help agreeing with him.
Fresh little bread rolls were delivered. Our man proudly declared that they bake their own daily and it tasted like it. He then treated us to a glass of prosecco and vanished to return with our wine and water.
To my delight these were served and left at table. Once again the formality of fine dining had been dodged in favour of practicality. Sadists invented the practice of having someone pop around every time I have a sip of water to pour a little more from a bottle that is just out of reach. Then the same sadists called it fine dining.
Having our first course classified as ‘antipasto’ is stretching the term a little. Fish had been served raw, marinated, cured or cooked around a large dish, in the centre of which lay a little ramekin of octopus. Mackerel was served in a terrine that had a vivid core of wilted greens.
A tartare of white prawn seemed to magically hold itself in a little cylindrical shape. It turned out to be held together with a very thin slice of lardo salato – a combination that almost had me in tears.
Cured salmon that had turned a vivid shade of orange was lightly seasoned and every so slightly smoky, a flavour I was assured came from the curing.
Their own smoked salmon is served just opposite to help one make the distinction. The gamberone di mazzaro, a prawn with its own address, was served in a ball, wrapped around a surprisingly zesty core of diced pineapple while sardines had been lightly floured and fried into a simple curled sliver.
The central octopus dish was served with a slightly sweet caponata that hid a wonderful sting of fresh chilli. If I’d had a tail, it would have been wagging like crazy.
The wine chosen by our host was a Vivera Terra dei Sogni – Sicilia Rosso IGP. This very well-priced red from Sicily has a pleasantly ripe nose of red fruit and sweet spice. It has a very manageable body and a pleasant finish but made me wonder what was in store after the Grande Plateau.
Next was a dish of spaghetti nere con crema di ricotta. The spaghetti itself was excellent and cooked al dente, the sauce thick and very masterfully balanced so that the cuttlefish flavour kept us company throughout.
The crema di ricotta is a lovely touch and it adds a very lightly creamy consistency. The Terra dei Sogni worked surprisingly well.
After every dish we had our host pop by with his mischievous little smile, asking whether we liked the food, and glowing with pride at my praise. He said he’d let the chef know we liked it and vanished once again.
Our main course was the simplest possible approach to swordfish. The fish had been filleted and grilled, served with thickly cut potatoes and nothing else.
A bowl of a suspicious green liquid was placed in the centre of the table. We were warned to use this garlic-based liquid sparingly.
The fish is very fresh, we were reminded. Fresh it was, and the flesh had been seared just enough to retain all the moisture, and the firm consistency of this mighty musketeer of the Med had been perfectly preserved.
Dessert turned up despite my please to the contrary. It was a tiramisu inside a cocktail glass. Now I’m not one who will ever order a Tiramisu but I had to taste this lest I cause offence.
One tiny fragment is all it took for me to devour my portion of this unbelievably light and fragrant dessert.
Paying €50 for this kind of food really isn’t a lot of money, especially when we could easily have settled for a smaller starter. The service was polite, helpful and charming without ever being formal so, while we were in a very pretty restaurant with a view of the marina, we never felt stiff or awkward.
I suppose the finest dining is a question of balance between eating well and feeling well. And this incarnation of Don Serafino seems to have struck this balance perfectly.
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