La Nave Bistro at Malta National Aquarium
Triq it-Trunċiera
Qawra SPB1010, Malta
Tel: 2258 8100

Food: 7/10
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 6/10
Overall: 7/10

Ever since I was a youngster, the promenade between Qawra and Buġibba has held a special significance. The site where La Nave Bistro and the Malta National Aquarium stands today was – for many a summer season – the premiere night-time destination for my cousins and I. Why? For the bumping cars, of course!

For back in those heady days, this bare stretch of coast was home to little more than a few fairground rides. And it’s central attraction? Yes, it was that timeless mainstay of a misspent youth: the Dodgem Pavilion. Countless kids would plunge their hard-earned coinage into a dubious-looking electric buggy ringed with rubber bumpers. They would then try to smash any nearby competitors into oblivion with said vehicular weapon. Talk about a lawsuit in waiting.

We’d stand and watch the ‘race track’ for hours, clutching our requisite red plastic token in sweaty hand. This doubloon was received in exchange for a shiny Maltese Lira coin (Lm1) (yes: this was a while back). And the reason for our hesitation? Well, we had to pluck up enough Dutch Courage to man said killing machines in the first place. But more importantly, we were waiting for our favourite girls to sit in the other dodgem cars, before we set off. This teenage-boy logic (leading us to foolishly believe that smashing into a pretty girl in a bumping car would actually make her like us) isn’t something I care to defend. Just know: this was a time of dreams – of fantasy. And boy oh boy, were we ever up in the clouds.

Imagine, then, how taken aback I was years later to learn that – out of the blue – this stomping ground of my youth had been earmarked for development as a swashbuckling new tourist destination. An aquarium… and a bistro restaurant? I’ll admit that such a revelation was initially hard to fathom. So: should you batten down the hatches and give La Nave Bistro a wide berth? Or is everything ship-shape and Bristol fashion within? Read on and find out, oh weary sailor that thou art.

As it turns out, I needn’t have feared. The moment I walked into La Nave’s expansive atrium, it dawned on me that swapping new money for old rope sometimes pays off. But before entering, I quickly circumnavigated the outer border of this nautically-inspired construct. In part, this was to lament the demise of mine sacred Dodgem Pavilion of yore (sniff, sniff). But the painful memory soon faded. I happened upon an airy terrace with delightful solar aspects that vary depending on the time of day. If the winds are fair, an outdoor table on this deck affords superb sea views of St Paul’s islands, Comino and Gozo beyond.

Tuna steak served kapunata style

Minimalist and modern composition suggest a strong tradition of fine dining underpinning this eatery’s ethos

The architecture both inside and out owes much to naval tradition. The inner roof consists of deep oak-beamed panelling. This abuts on to immense whitewashed bulkheads which deeply evoke a cruise ship’s metallic hull. A spacious internal balcony positions yet more tables over the bar area, much as a cruise liner’s recessed upper deck might do.

To the left of the building’s entryway sits a massive fish tank. Predictably, then, the deck is often awash with squealing children, hopping around the tank in delightful observance of the marine wonders within. Their excitement is palpable, as they wait to descend the stairs into the bowels of the aquarium itself on the lower deck. All of this lends the place a rather Disney-esque feel. To be sure: as an attraction, it’s nowhere near on a par with the world-class (and truly cavernous) Monterey Aquarium in Northern California. Yet one does get the sense that such nirvanas did at least serve to inspire, when pen was raised at the architect’s drafting table.

I was invited to choose my own spot, as pleasant shanty tunes hummed away unobtrusively in the background. As befits the winter season, floor standing faux charcoal fires in tasteful glass cabinets were dotted around, warming both the physical space and the eye. The menu (replicated in full online – heaven!) was placed in front of me by a smiling waiter. Moments later, the open WiFi connection had already patched in seamlessly on my phone. That’s the spirit! Why oh why can’t all culinary cruises begin this smoothly?

My busy week had left me feeling all at sea. Thus, I felt in the mood for a warming starter, and opted for the leek & mushroom soup of the day. It arrived piping hot, with a swizzle of extra virgin olive oil and watercress garnish. Now here’s a real broth for a weary sailor seeking to warm hand and heart, as his vessel hits the outer reaches of the Antarctic on that final, perilous stretch across the Drake Passage.

This soup was blended – but not to a pulp. Neither watery nor viscous, it preserved much of the creamy texture of those mushrooms. Just what the doctor ordered, and more than enough to keep the scurvy at bay. What’s more, this starter had no need for salt, suggesting an optimal balance of seasoning by the sous-chef. Perhaps you might want to add just a dash of pepper, if you really want extra heat. A generous wedge of toasted bread with melted garlic butter came as accompaniment.

The naval styling is deeply evocative of an enormous cruise ship.

I ploughed through my soup, and the empty dish was whisked away some 22 minutes after I sat down. That’s just about right, in my book, when it comes to timing and service. For my main dish, I plumped for a medium-rare char-grilled tuna steak. And so, a fish knife and condiments were briskly added to my table in preparation.

The tuna arrived on a bed of grilled peppers, courgettes and onions with seasoned rocket leaves. This vegetable foundation was more than faintly reminiscent of the classic Maltese kapunata dish – delicious. A side order of rustic fries was hot to the lips and crunchy on the tongue, with just a hint of sweet aftertaste. Could it be that the ingredients for these fries were locally sourced? I honestly couldn’t tell you. But they were good.

On to the grilled tuna itself. Served in two portions, the steak was lean and juicy. Flavoured with just the right amount of marine tang, the flesh melted in the mouth with a pleasant texture. A dash of salt and the faintest squeeze of lemon were all that was required. There was no need to sully this platter with condiments, creams or tartares. A minor gripe was that, while the soup and rustic chips were served almost too hot to eat (correct), the tuna itself was only lukewarm upon arrival.  I prefer my entrée to arrive just slightly steaming. ’Tis but a minor point though, so let’s tarry not.

Overall, then, we could consider this dish to be an haute cuisine fish-and-chips. A gourmet chippie, if you will. A hallowed halibut, perhaps? (“But it was tuna.”) A succulent salmon, maybe? (“Nope. TUNA!”) Ok ok –enough of these idiomatic intimations. You’ve got me over a barrel here, dear reader.

The service at La Nave Bistro is brisk, efficient and polite, from an elegantly attired and well-trained staff. Consider the dish presentation and table dressing. Minimalist and modern composition suggest a strong tradition of fine dining underpinning this eatery’s ethos. In commensurate style, the bathrooms are clean, with well-functioning and modern adornments. I even noted an attendant walking through to freshen up the air, adding a pleasantly pomaded fragrance. I wish other establishments would take note when it comes to their latrines. Here’s a head that doesn’t reek of rotten underbelly.

In summation, then, the outfit manning the vessel once christened La Nave Bistro clearly knows the ropes. No dressing down was necessary, from this naval traveller. Indeed, ’tis a slick schooner that cuts through polluted waters to offer you a quality meal and decent value, to boot. There’s plenty of nearby entertainment, if you have young sailors aboard. Couple that with unbeatable views of our Maltese isles, and you’ve a proposition that’s hard to beat. Highly recommended.