La Maltesa
Testaferrata Street,
Ta’ Xbiex

Food: 5/10
Service: 6/10
Location: 6/10
Value: 6/10
Overall: 6/10

Witty writer Lord Byron couldn’t fall in love with Malta, depicting the island as nothing more than an island of “yells, bells and smells”. I wonder what his wicked wit would have led him to say had he experienced the charms of present day Gżira.

Downtown Gżira is a part of Malta that I vehemently steer clear of. I am never there by accident. I was here by design with the deliberate intention of sampling one of Italy’s signature foods – the Mozzarella. I was especially intent on sampling some Mozzarella di Bufala. This trademark soft, white cheese produced from the prized, rich milk of domesticated water buffalo is a southern Italian delicacy. A mild, delicate flavour with just the right hint of sourness pairs beautifully with an elastic, moist texture; resulting in a ball of heavenliness that oozes milk.

In Italy this stretched-curd cheese is the key ingredient in everything from traditional Nea­politan pizza to mozzarella in carrozza and the elegantly simple caprese salad. Campania is the region famous for its highly-prized artisanal Mozzarella di Bufala DOP; produced from nothing more than whole buffalo milk, rennet and salt. Campania is unquestionably the land of the Mozzarella.

But this region and its mozzarella has been the subject of much scandal, with a past and a present that is tightly entwined with the Camorra Mafia, the organised crime group based in Campania. The Camorra run a hugely lucrative, illegal business disposing of colossal quantities of toxic, industrial waste (including nuclear waste) in rural areas north of Naples; poisoning prime agricultural land and rivers and gravely endangering people’s health. Hazardous materials like chlorinated compounds and  asbestos are also burnt in open air, further intensifying health risks and environmental damage.

The effects of half a century of abusive dumping have been de­vastating and the land and its people has been brought to its knees.  Exposure to highly toxic environmental pollutants has now been categorically linked to higher-than-usual cancer rates in the region. This corner of Campania, dubbed the Triangle of Death, has witnessed an alarming surge in brain cancers, child mortality and birth malformations.

Hideous cover-up operations on the part of corrupt politicians, prosecutors and industrialists, had almost succeeded in silencing this tragedy. Despite decades of public fervour and pressure from the EU, it is only recently that the full extent of the catastrophe has come to light. Such is the level of toxicity in this scarred, once-para­disiacal part of Campania, that in 2014, the selling of olive oil, wine and cheese harvested and produced on toxic land was strictly prohibited, inflicting significant economic hardship. This ban included buffalo mozzarella.

We left the place feeling deeply unsatisfied

In 2008, dangerously high concentrations of carcinogenic che­mical compounds had already been found in buffalo milk; a consequence of the illegal dumping. To this day, the Camorra still control much of the sales of buffalo mozzarella produced in Campania.

In view of this cruel, ongoing struggle, I looked more favour­ably on my surroundings, and even unkempt Testaferrata Street looked less grim. We made our way to La Maltesa. This is a caseficio and, thus, all mozzarella cheese is made on site. But you’ll find much more than globes of mozzarella here. Jars of olives, pickled vegetables and sundried tomatoes, bottles of olive oil and tomato sauce and packs of dried pasta line the shelves and are all on sale here.

An enormous counter beckons you at the end of the room, teasing you with a bountiful array of cheeses and a limited selection of cured Italian meats. We decided to grab a seat and enjoy a quick lunch. We were eager to get started, quickly ordering sandwiches and a cheese platter. On the menu you’ll also find a list of wraps and salads.

The Focaccia and Apulian Puccia flatbreads were not available, much to my disappointment, and so we had to make do with ftiras. So far, so good. I desired nothing more than to delve into the world of mozzarella, and so we chose the Caprese sandwich and the Daniele. The Caprese consisted of Fior di Latte mozzarella (made from cow’s milk), tomatoes, salad, oregano and extra virgin olive oil. I asked for fresh basil instead of oregano. You can’t, after all, call it a Caprese if one of the original members of the tri­nity is absent. For an extra charge of 50 cents, we opted for Mozzarella di Bufala. The Daniele was basically a Caprese sandwich further enlivened by the addition of Parma Ham.

From the outset, the sandwiches looked rather sad. Holding everything together was the ftira; dry as a bone, stale and on the hard side. Already, I knew that the staff were incapable of making a decent sandwich. Further inspection would also reveal how ungenerous they are when it comes to filling the sandwich.

Each ftira contained the thin­nest slivers of tomato slices; so thin they were ethereal, barely there. The same boundless  ‘generosity’ had been applied when slicing the mozzarella. The qua­lity of the cheese was also nothing to shout about. A few measly leaves of the most insipid iceberg lettuce were strewn about. The basil failed to make an appearance but the staff had, however, been generous in shaking specks of dried oregano over the stodgy sandwich.

Never before had I witnessed such a miserable, bare sandwich.

The Daniele sandwich suffered the same fate. The addition of some nice, good quality prosciutto crudo could do little to save it.  Our cheese-based La Maltesa platter was far more enjoyable, consisting of a nice selection of cheeses and a few slices of speck and salami. The primo sale cheese was especially lovely; semi-soft and milky in flavour.

We left the place feeling deeply unsatisfied. Taste, above all things, is what distinguishes a fresh, superior mozzarella from a mediocre mozzarella. The fact that La Maltesa is a caseficio should mean a world of difference as regards quality and flavour. I expected absolute freshness and superior quality.

The mozzarella here is good enough, but it is hardly made to the high-quality standard one would expect from a caseficio specialising in artisan cheese-making. The mozzarella here did little to blow me away.