Ed eats

Pane & Olio
Spinola Road,
St Julian’s
Tel: 2138 4780

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

It is not often that I find myself itching to eat at the same restaurant twice. Perhaps I do get to flit from place to place more than the average diner because of the nature of the whole reviewing activity so change is in a way imposed.

I was pleased I left my choice in the chef’s hands. A neat little mound of fresh red prawn tartare sat atop my fillet, delicately seasoned

Should I happen to stumble across a dining experience that is memorable, however, I do my best to fit an extra night of dining out within a week. This allows me to return for more and live a little more of the food, service and atmosphere that struck me in the first place.

Those restaurants that delivered a pleasant but not striking experience slip my memory quite quickly.

Naturally, unpleasant experiences have as much sticking power as the pleasant ones and I make a mental note never to return.

Why should I pay from something I didn’t quite enjoy when there is a seemingly endless list of more valid options?

One restaurant I visited time and time again since the first time I discovered it was Salvino’s in Valletta. The kitchen had a very particular way of blending cunning inventiveness with relatively traditional ingredients.

And the chef’s seemingly bottomless imagination yielded a menu that shifted about like an eel, with dishes that were present one month vanishing by the next, replaced by another creation that has the ability to fuel one’s imagination and to cause that hopeless despair one feels when faced with the knowledge that one’s stomach cannot possibly stretch to accommodate every single item on that list.

Eventually, I had to choose. Jerusalem artichoke and truffle risotto with deep-fried capers on the side. Donkey stewed in Guinness, with the heady kick of North African Ras el Hanout. Even a simple prawn bisque with lime and lemongrass had the ability to bring tears of joy.

Like many happy stories, this one came to an end. As last year drew to a close, so did the Salvino’s we’d grown to revere. During my last supper there, I asked the chef where he’d be heading. He gave me a mysterious little smile and dodged the question, forever the slippery eel.

That meal ended on a bitter-sweet note. It was like the one time when a fabulous-looking girl informed me that she’d had enough of rich, attractive and successful men seeking her attention.

Then she asked me what I was doing that evening. Half of you jumps for joy, while the other half realises that not all is well.

Then, one day last week, I heard that ‘that Salvino’s chef’ had sailed all the way to St Julian’s and cast anchors at a new restaurant called Pane & Olio. I hadn’t heard of the place and found out that it had been called The Joint before.

My one and only meal at The Joint was memorable – only not for the right reasons. I’d vowed never to return but now, armed with the knowledge that chef Andrew was in the kitchen, I almost dropped whatever I was doing and rushed over.

I called and booked a table for two. Then I received a phone call asking what I was up to that evening and I said I’d be trying the new place that the chef from Salvino’s had moved to. I called Pane & Olio again and booked a table for four. Within 10 minutes, the table was one for six. It looks like Andrew has a loyal following.

The restaurant can be accessed from the bay itself, where tables and chairs sat in solitary silence in the evening chill.

No one in his right mind will put up with the cold but I can see the terrace becoming hugely popular as the temperatures rise. We parked inside the Portomaso car park, so the entrance on Spinola Road was more convenient, and walked down the stairs to the main dining area.

The place looks just as good as it did when it was called The Joint, with a deep red colour to the walls providing a classy backdrop to the lovely black and white photography.

We were met by a young Sicilian man who, dealing charm and smiles all around, made us feel instantly welcome.

It was our turn to smile when a young lady passed menus around. The Salvino’s character is evenly spread throughout the menu. The prices looked a little cheaper as well. We knew we were in for a treat.

Three gluttons and three rather polite ladies made up the party of six and the gluttons very rudely took over. We wanted a bit of everything so we practically forced a round of antipasti into the order. We then strong-armed an intermediate pasta course to follow that. Suddenly very accommodating, we actually allowed the choice of main courses.

The chef popped out of the kitchen at this point and I left the main course in his very able hands. I have done this since my second visit to Salvino’s and wasn’t prepared to change a tradition that has consistently brought me much joy.

Fresh bread, warm and devilishly good, went down a treat with the excellent olive oil at table. Quite soon, we had to make room for antipasti. Served on neat, rectangular dishes, the crudi we had ordered were just as we had expected them to be – elegantly served and very simply prepared.

Tuna carpaccio, octopus carpaccio with sea urchin dressing and red peppercorns, and beef carpaccio seasoned with truffle oil and served with Pecorino shavings had us passing the dishes all around the table to make sure everyone sampled the understated elegance they contained. Within a couple of minutes we’d cleaned the plates and looked around at each other, sharing smiles of smug satisfaction.

Next up were our fettuccine with snails and chilli, a dish that was one of my firm favourites in Valletta. They were just as sumptuous this time around. A couple of squeamish members of the party had opted for pappardelle with truffles and mushrooms because they figure that snails are better off on the ground than in their plates.

To each her own, I always say. Had I been in a more private setting, I would have mixed the two dishes, enjoying both the snail and the truffle. But then I can’t give my true nature away when in company of actual humans.

Soon, our main courses were served by the two young ladies who had taken over by then. It is refreshing to have all dishes served simultaneously. Unfortunately, such a basic practice is something of a rarity.

The lamb with fresh ginger and red peppercorns was simply perfect, with a pink interior and the sharp tang of the ginger providing a fitting counterpoint to the full flavour of the lamb.

Equally outstanding were the braised pork cheeks, served with a red wine reduction, dark chocolate, star anise and coriander. The cheeks are slow-cooked to a wonderfully tender texture and the unusual combination of flavours comes together in a way that I last experienced at Salvino’s.

I was pleased I’d left my choice in the chef’s hands. A neat little mound of fresh red prawn tartare sat atop my fillet, delicately seasoned and offering a surprisingly refreshing take on the steak.

The ribeye was presented simply as requested and cooked to the medium rare temperature as requested. I’d eaten steak on this very table when it was meant to be a steakhouse under the restaurant’s previous guise and it was nowhere near this level of quality.

I was going to pass on the dessert but then heard the mention of Andrew’s cassatella and there was no way I was letting this slip past.

It was, as it always is, close to perfection. I’m afraid that if I say it is perfect, the chef will read this and rest on his laurels. Let’s get him to keep outdoing himself.

The bill for €50 each was perfectly reasonable. We’d each had four excellent courses, shared a couple of bottles of wine, been served liqueurs and had our parking tickets paid for. Andrew might have migrated North this winter but he has not lost any of his prowess in the process. I’ll be back, I vowed as I left the restaurant. And I’ve done so twice already.

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