You know how it goes: ‘You must come with us to Sciacca, you will love it.’ and the weeks and months pass by and we simply cannot find an evening when we are all free. But at last it happened and to Sciacca we went. I had always assumed it was a Sicilian restaurant run by Sicilians since it is named after the fishing village in Sicily. After all anything and everything Sicilian is sprouting all round the island. But no. I found out in the course of the evening that both owners were Maltese, one of them is chef-patron.  

In spite of the panelling and comfortable leather chairs Sciacca has an informal style. You will be glad to hear that there are no fake marble pillars or murals of scenes from Ancient Rome more reminiscent of palaces of Vegas than Verona.

Another plus is the space between tables. There are restaurants where the tables are so close together that you cannot fit a sheet of filo pastry between them.

.There is definitely talent in the kitchen which is headed by chef-patron Marvin Schembri. They are trying to create rather than produce the same old food.

This is essentially a fish restaurant although there are meat and pasta dishes from which you can make your selection.

I loved the generous helping of antipasti: fried whitebait, Cerna with tempura, local King prawns beautifully prepared, aubergine slices with mozzarella and a gentle touch of pesto and more. For main dish we all chose fish which was in the display case gleaming and freshly caught.

A table of Sicilians or Italians, not far away,  must have been celebrating some special event. Our neighbours are never easy when it comes to food and when they are looking happy in a restaurant it is a sign that the food is good.

Marvin has four chefs in the kitchen and although the cuisine is creative it is the attention to the quality of the ingredients that makes it so special. After telling us that he is from Birgu ‘and very proud of it’ he went on to explain that the olive oil which is used is not the commercial variety and the balsamic vinegar is from the Leonardi estate. The results from the kitchen was evidence enough that a great deal of thought and hard work are taking place behind the scenes.

The service – one waiter comes from Palermo – is energetic and pleasant.  

Marvin told us that his ambition is to open a Grill House in South Street. I have a feeling that this plan has been hatched already and we shall soon hear about it. In spite of the innovative take on Italian food it is still rooted in the traditional flavours and techniques of our neighbour’s regional cooking. That’s the way I like it. I am not one to enjoy custard over my fish, or mayonnaise in my dessert and all that El Bully stuff.

I felt almost virtuous as the couple who invited me out dropped me home: we had not eaten dessert and I had limited my intake of bread ­­– and wine.

 There was only one tiny snag to a most pleasant evening. I had been picked up by my hosts on the Gzira waterfront where I had left my car so that we would all go together.  They dropped me home after this most pleasant evening, the three of us having long forgotten about my car. The following morning I opened the garage door and my heart almost stopped when I found it was empty. I quickly calmed down, put on my thinking cap, and tried to recall where I had left it. I walked to the Gzira waterfront relieved that my arancio eccentrico little car was still there, patiently waiting for me.

Carmel Bonello’s Muse exhibition

I go to very few vernissages – only those of friends usually. There are simply too many of them. So I went to Carmel Bonello’s who is one of Phyllis Muscat’s brothers. She is heading the CHOGM committee and has been a friend of mine for many years. I love success and she is one of Malta’s most successful businesswomen. Her five siblings and herself lost their mother when they were very young and were brought up by their father. Phyllis was a theatre nurse at St Luke’s when she saw a small advert for Guinot products. She cut it, went to Paris to Guinot and told them she wanted to be their agent in Malta. Together with her husband and son she now has a thriving beauty business which has expanded in other directions too, including a variety of courses.  She is blessed with endless energy and is always bursting with ideas. All her siblings are successful in their own field and Carmel is the family artist.

His art is joyful and varied.  His colourful abstract paintings together with his figurative pieces show his dynamic energy which is constantly seeking new outlets in art. His best work is tremendously strong, packed with energy, action and force. As I looked at each picture – it was not easy since this launch was very well attended – I found his work to be emotive, fresh and spontaneous. I particularly liked a painting consisting of two, ‘prosporous’ nudes. I draw a certain amount of consolation from paintings and photos of chubby women. His art lifts the hearts of the many, like me, who couldn’t care less about stylistic development and the kind of language so beloved of art critics. I enjoy looking at most of Carmel’s paintings and that is what counts for me.

I popped in to take a look at Raymond Pitré’s ‘Documentary’ exhibition in the sala next door. I expected to see an exhibition of portraits for which this artist is so deservedly well known. But no. What I saw instead were these huge frames which, from a distance, seemed like multi-coloured glass. They were beautiful and the reverse of austere. They are somehow, some of the most expressive and exciting I have seen lately. RP has obviously flung wide his boundaries. ‘Documentary’ – for that is how RP baptized his latest exhibition – is a collection of ten three dimensional works in thick watercolour paper cut outs. Originally conceived in the mid-sixties this was one of many projects which had been abandoned for a lapse of over four decades. A riot of colours has been orchestrated in each frame.

This artist seems unwilling to rest upon the laurels of past achievement and remains intent on pushing his art further. 

I had to leave early as wanted to attend a small get together for a friend who was celebrating his birthday. I love Palazzo de Piro, I love Mdina especially in the silence of the evening but I do not like walking on the cobbled streets in not very high heels, to the car park. As I went past the gate Dr Herrera who had launched Carmel’s exhibition stopped the car and asked me if I wanted a lift. I thanked him and told him I had almost arrived. This civilized but unexpected act touched me. I wish him well.

Both exhibitions end on 31 March.

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