Kuya Beach
Qui-Si-Sana Seafront
Sliema
Tel : 2713 6517

Food: 8/10
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 9/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 8/10

The last time you heard from me was in the form of a missive that’s slightly longer than usual. In under 2,000 words I tried to create a snapshot of a couple of weeks eating in Japan. For the most part, I failed. There is much more to it. In the days after I’d submitted my column I kept remembering meals I didn’t even have space to mention, let alone describe in the detail they deserve.

Then, I realised that we are never in receipt of the truth. We are only given fragments that we piece together to form our own version of what’s happened.

Every time I take a picture, I lie to you. I show food in what I think is its best light. I turn my camera away from my untidy pile of keys and phones that are on my table and, at the same time, point my lens in a way that leaves out the diner at the next table who dressed like the 1980s were still about to happen and has dropped soup all over his floral shirt. Robbing you of context, I paint a prettier picture of the reality I inhabit.

Those who have never visited our Islands but have heard of them and are considering a visit form a similarly stylised impression of the place. Never-ending beaches, cocktails on the beach, a perfect tan, dinner by the seaside to the sound of lapping waves, and a night of more cocktails and dancing. All wrapped in a cool breeze, of course.

That’s because raw, pink sunburn, sardine-can beaches, all-you-can-eat tourist meals, and sweat patches on ‘I heart Malta’ t-shirts don’t quite make it to the brochure. Why would they? We always want the promise of a better world than the one we inhabit and it’s this kind of promise that makes it to the potential holidaymaker.

But somewhere there exists a truth that’s not far off from the brochure. If you’re determined enough, you can make your trip to Malta an enjoyable one. Know the right beaches, stay well clear of the beaten track, and avoid any restaurant that has menu-thumping soliciting going on outside.

I make regular attempts at being a happy tourist in my own country. It takes earnest effort and relentless research but I figure that if I manage, then it is entirely possible for others with less baseline cynicism to have a real blast.

Had I paid to spend a week on this Island, I’d be feeling pretty proud of my choice

One weeknight last week I felt I needed to justify being in Malta in summer by having a decent meal quite close to the sea without spending a fortune. Out of ideas I turned to the better half who stopped me from launching into a moan by reminding me that we hadn’t yet tried Kuya’s beachside offering. It had slipped my mind. I love the food at their St Julian’s ‘pub’ but wasn’t in the mood to sit underground so this sounded like just the thing to raise my spirits.

Parking in Qui-Si-Sana is not one of those features that make it to tourist brochures for a good reason but we were lucky to snag a spot just five minutes from the seafront. That’s when the first encouraging signs started. There are no signs to Kuya. It takes the determined and those in the know to find it. They also respect the neighbourhood so theirs is the quieter of sound systems amongst the beach clubs.

But we were determined and we found the place. I don’t really need to describe the beach club because you know the drill. There’s a building that houses the kitchen and the bar. There’s a dining terrace. There’s a pool deck and pool. And that’s about it.

What really matters is that beyond this there’s a peaceful expanse of open sea, and this is what makes your trip worth every minute. You don’t need to look back a concrete towers that have been designed and built by bean counters or count tower cranes on the skyline because looking straight ahead paints a temporarily better version of the truth.

We were there just after sunset and the view was quite spectacular. I imagine that booking a table for half an hour before sunset could place you right on the pages of the holiday brochures that are successful at selling our Islands. And if that’s what you’ve been promised, then you ought to have a shot at enjoying it.

They’d been up and running for just over a week when I visited so they were still dotting some vowels and crossing some consonants. The menu card at table was more optimistic than the blackboard next to the kitchen so I first picked a dish that wasn’t yet available. The young man who was helping us out was charming and truthful with his explanation and that’s disarming.

This worked out well for me. I’m a fan of the yellow curry with squid at the St Julians restaurant and was keen on ordering the same dish. It wasn’t available on the night so I wound up picking the speciality of the evening – grilled tuna served with rice. The better half went with the Pod Ka Pao beef. Perhaps unusually for the Kuya offering, they’ve added a curiously Asian pizza selection. I found some of these intriguing, particularly the idea of a Kim Chi pizza with pickled cabbage and chorizo on it, but I’m quite the conservative pizza eater so stuck with their core offering.

I was also delighted to discover that they serve a lovely dark IPA from Belgium on draught so there was my evening covered. And as I sipped the bitter beauty, the sun finally gave up on us, turning the sea into an inky, indigo mirror. Had I paid to spend a week on this Island, I’d be feeling pretty proud of my choice.

Our food was served within a perfectly reasonable time. There wasn’t a single, vacant seat on the terrace and the kitchen was doing a good job of churning out dishes to keep up with the hungry mouths. Still, the presentation was up to Kuya standard, with freshly chopped greens as garnish, a triangular sail of nori on the side and perfectly grilled steak of tuna cut into a tagliata above a bed of rice. It was done to a very high temperature on the outside and was completely rare inside – just as it should be.

Doused in a dark soy and ginger sauce and dressed with wasabi mayo, the result is sweet, savoury, and aromatic all at the same time.

The Pad Ka Pao, with fresh basil and a touch of chilli, was just as expertly prepared but this ought not to come as a surprise. From food truck to restaurant, the team at Kuya seem to love food more than most and this has kept their offering consistent.

I’m almost fearful about mentioning this consistency. I’m not superstitious but I’ve seen too many of my favourites lose their culinary way to a financial one and that almost always ends in the wrong kind of tears.

But let’s remain optimistic. We paid just under €20 each for our sunset treat and walked away with the desire to return the very next day. This is, after all, what makes summer worth the heat and the general annoyance.

This is the part of the story that we sell that’s as close to the blissful truth as it should be. So I will be back, preferably on a night when I can drink more than a couple of beers without worrying about the next day at the office.