Agliolio Restaurant
Radisson Blu Resort & Spa,
Golden Sands
Mellieħa
Food: 5/10
Service: 8/10
location: 9/10
Value: 6/10
Overall: 6/10
At times the simplest ingredients can make the best meals. The classic Neapolitan pasta dish of spaghetti aglio e olio is possibly the most basic pasta sauce in the vast Italian canon of recipes.
Garlic and olive oil are the indispensable blocks on which various pasta sauces are made but they come together to make a fantastic sauce of their own. In a pan, pasta purists will gently sauté pressed garlic in olive oil until golden brown (nonconformists might even add a pinch of chilli flakes).
Subsequently, they will throw in a mound of steaming, hot pasta, along with a ladleful of starchy pasta water. They will rapidly stir in the sauce and they will eat. Rapidly. The humblest of ingredients are thus elevated, combining to create a dish of tasty, lip-smacking goodness.
Hungry? So was I as I sat down to eat at Aglioglio restaurant in Golden Bay, the restaurant name enough to conjure up images of good, wholesome Italian food.
It was an illusion. This is an Italian trattoria and the food here is average, very average.
I had ordered the Asparagi e Pecorino pizza. Topped with mozzarella, aged Pecorino cheese, speck and asparagus, it looked promising.
Flavourful, green asparagus is in season. A cut above other vegetables, this is a far cry from the common carrot or cabbage. Prized for its nutritive and medicinal properties by civilisations as ancient as those of Egypt and Greece, asparagus is one of those utterly delightful delicacies that the vegetable world has to offer.
It is a super food in every sense; low in calories and sodium and utterly delicious. Freshly cut asparagus is earthy and sweet, with a distinct, delicately savoury flavour. It should be enjoyed with only the simplest preparation involved.
The feathery tipped, slender spears should be barely cooked � boiled in salty water until just tender. Drizzle over some melted butter and you’re in heaven. The cooked spears are equally as divine when dipped into a creamy hollandaise sauce or eaten with a poached or fried egg.
Tests carried out on asparagus gave rise to the discovery of a distinctive, savoury fifth taste, that of umami. In 1907, a Tokyo University scientist identified its existence after conducting experiments on meat, cheese – and asparagus. Nevertheless, asparagus’ incredible umami was doing little in helping me to enjoy my pizza.
Woody and tough, the green snippets of asparagus had been overdone. There is such a thing as too much cheese, and this pizza was overloaded with dairy to the point that it just fell apart. With regard to the pizza dough, the outer crust had good colour and bite but the centre was grossly undercooked, resulting in unpleasant mouthfuls of gummy, chewy dough.
The Diavola pizza lived up to its name, topped with slices of fiery Calabrese salami, heaving with spicy paprika and cayenne pepper. The chilli oil added a pleasant, warm heat but had been applied too zealously, resulting in a pizza that was ridiculously greasy. Furthermore, a disappointingly soggy pizza base was again encountered.
A bowlful of calamari fritti is normally up there with the most appetising of starters, very often consumed with gusto. Agliolio’s version was a sad affair.
The squid rings and tendrils slumped limply in the bowl without even a hint of golden colour to them. Greasy and rubbery, the squid had been improperly prepared. The garlic aioli dipping sauce was nice enough. The grilled chicken breast salad served with baby spinach, mushrooms, artichokes and apricots sounded much nicer than it looked, or tasted, for that matter.
Topped with shavings of pecorino, the chunks of chicken breast sat like slabs of concrete, concealing most of the salad beneath. It was all rather second rate.
The pasta dish of paccheri con pesce spada e pomodoro epitomised Sicilian cuisine, typifying Mediterranean summers. Comprising a tomato sauce enriched with smoked swordfish and fresh herbs, it held all the promise of a superb pasta dish; as delicious as it is simple to execute.
The sauce should have been full of robust richness and southern Italy flavour, but it was not. Presented to us was a mediocre tomato sauce and a fish that had lost much of its flavour. This plate of pasta was mediocre at best.
And sadly, Malta is plagued by decidedly mediocre restaurants. Far outnumbering the remarkable ones, these middling restaurants all serve subpar food while unfairly charging high prices.
Unimpressive and uninspiring, Agliolio is no exception. Our dining experience hardly classified as memorable. There was no risk of food envy at our table; not one dish outshone the others. The pizza is the most decent item on the menu.
Aggressively second rate, the fact that this restaurant is affiliated to a five-star hotel seems to matter little. High standards can only be seen in the service, with waiting staff that are courteous, efficient and charming. The just about passable food served here does not come cheap. For what we ate, the bill felt ridiculously overpriced.
Season after season, mediocrity triumphs, with many average Maltese restaurants remaining wildly, unfathomably popular with the Maltese. Agliolio is a case in point, still managing to pull in the crowds for no particular reason other than its stunning location. Al fresco dining on Agliolio’s sprawling terrace is a must. Here, you are literally on the water’s edge, looking out at one of Malta’s most picturesque beaches.
But is this the price we are obliged to pay in order to eat outdoors in the sunshine?
Herein lies the tragedy. In this country of perennially good weather, there is often a choice to be made between good food and a good outdoors location. The two are all too often at odds with one another, and not many places in Malta are able to comfortably tick both boxes.
I am always impressed by a great view. But this cannot cover all manner of sins. A dining experience requires far more substance. Agliolio will appeal to the non-discerning diner. Personally, I fail to see the attraction.