Ed eats

Dolci Peccati
268, Tower Road
Sliema
Tel: 2702 3202

Food: 7/10
Service: 5/10
Ambience: 7/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 6.5/10

You surely know someone in your circle of friends who will manage to turn any fragment of a conversation into a naughty reference.

There’s always at least one person who can be counted on for slipping in a word or a wink that changes the nature of the topic at hand, turning the chat into the script for an adult movie.

This isn’t a value judgement. It is merely an observation. I’m guilty of doing the same thing with food. I drive anyone who stands still long enough to tears of boredom or hunger pangs and I seem to need little to prompt the transition. The time of day is always close to a mealtime for me. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, second lunch and similar terms are overly familiar to everyone at the office.

Metaphor doesn’t escape the habit. Every example I seem to provide starts with “Say a chef has everything he needs except one crucial ingredient…” or “You’re at a restaurant and the service is polite enough but exceptionally slow…”. Maybe I’ve been writing about food for too long but I can’t see myself shaking the habit.

I actually don’t need an audience. I’m perfectly capable of boring myself with monologues about the subject, usually prompted by an evocative name. Or even more often, a rant about a missed opportunity or a downright awful name for a restaurant.

There’s this place called Strit Fud in St Julian’s. Come on. I’m presuming the place is run by Italians who decided that it’s the way they’d pronounce ‘Street Food’ anyway. I drove half across the island engaged in quite the unshakespearean soliloquy (if that is even a word) when I read Strit Fud the first time. It was when I calmed down that I realised that funding a radio campaign on their behalf and pronouncing the name to rhyme with Elmer Fudd would be a slight overreaction.

Much more engaging is the name ‘Dolci Peccati’, for instance. After all, what is sweeter than sin? Perhaps the missed opportunity here is to link the words to translate into ‘sweets and sins’ for a more complete offering. Then both I and the kind of guy I referred to at the start of this column would have plenty to talk about and enjoy.

I was tempted by the name when they first opened their doors to reveal a lovely selection of ice cream and sweet pastries. Sitting up on the mezzanine in the winter with a coffee and a sweet is as comforting as their devilishly good ice cream is in the summer. Quite recently they’ve added a welcome extension to the place, opening a bistro just adjacent. If the food was anything as good as their sweets, we were in for a treat.

If the food was anything as good as their sweets, we were in for a treat

I’d been tempted since I noticed the addition and only managed to make it there for supper late one Sunday night. I was quite tired and very hungry and hoped their kitchen would serve up some sin to hungry souls after 9pm. And parking in Sliema more than made up in advance for any sins we were about to commit.

Luckily, it turned out that they did serve food and were happy to show us the dining area upstairs. They’ve followed the open mezzanine approach that worked so well next door so there’s a pleasant feeling of open space and a view of the bar downstairs.

The decor is quite neat and contemporary, with neutral tones and discreet lighting that were only spoiled by a massive wall print of brightly coloured food. The music is pleasant and played at a comfortable volume and we practically had the dining area to ourselves. We were a good meal away from the evening I needed.

The girl who served us is one of those extremely well-intended people who are, unfortunately, let down by a slight language barrier and an even slighter knowledge of the food, wine and systems in place. She was really pleasant and eager to help though, so a little training could turn her into a gem.

My better half had been there a couple of times and said she’d been served by someone who probably owned the place and had given them fantastic service.

This inconsistency is all the more reason for a spot of committed training.

We tried to order a fritto misto for starters but were told that this is more of a lunchtime dish. We decided we’d skip straight to the main course instead, picking from the daily specialities.

The menu is a compact affair that sounds enticing enough but leaves the proper main courses out. In proper bistro style, and this side of Dolci Peccati is actually called a bistro, the mains are decided upon by the chef, depending on the availability of fresh ingredients. This is probably my favourite style of casual dining.

My better half instantly picked the tagliata. She’d eaten meat here before and had chosen it again. I don’t ever order what she does because I’ll get to taste it anyway, all in the name of this column.

I also feel it is fairer to judge a restaurant upon more than a single dish. Luckily, I was taken by the idea of a Roman-style saltimbocca.

We then added a bottle of Sicilian red from a rather pricey wine menu and watched in cheerful amusement while this was served.

A short while later, a small plate of little quarter-sandwiches served at the bar downstairs was served as an appetiser with the wine.

From the top floor I thought they were crostini. They turned out to be open and closed sandwiches made out of the sliced white bread you buy in plastic bags and included ones with processed ham and cheese, a couple with an olive pâté on top and some more with very fresh cherry tomato. It wasn’t meant to be a starter and had been served out of generosity but I’d leave out the poorer specimens when serving bar food to the dining area. Just a couple of the really yummy ones would have made a buona figura.

Our main courses were served within a reasonable time, especially factoring the lack of starter into the timing. I’d left the sides to the chef because I didn’t quite understand the choice I’d been given while I was ordering.

These were the same for both plates, a skewer with circular chips that looked like they’d come out of a bag. The meat was lovely though, with a well-seasoned sauce covering the veal and ham, also served on their skewers. The veal was tender and the sage and white wine perfectly balanced.

This was hard to top and the tagliata just about managed to. The meat was grilled on the outside and pink inside, cooked to a medium rare and topped with generous shavings of Grana and a little fresh rucola. The cut was great and the kitchen had really brought out the best in it.

The wine I picked cost €30 so I wasn’t surprised that the bill went past the €70-mark. I also wasn’t surprised that there’s love in the kitchen. This had been evident when Dolci Peccati had stuck to the dolci part of the deal.

And now that there’s a bistro into the bargain, I have every reason to visit often, checking that menu board for the sins laid bare for the day.

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