Tmun
Mġarr Harbour, Gozo
Tel. 2156 6276
Food: 10/10
Service: 9/10
Ambience: 7/10
Value: 9/10
Gozo, they said. Walk, they said. Lunch, they said. Must everything come in threes? I would have been quite happy to cut to the chase, but my friends don’t do a la carte; it’s set menu or you starve, metaphorically at least. So out from the mothball-filled darkness of the wardrobe came the T-shirt, shorts and trainers which are so low mileage that if they were a car, an unscrupulous salesman – as if there is another kind – would pass them off as new.
But there was no mention of rain. Nobody said anything about that. Not even the weather portal I checked in desperate search of a schoolboy’s excuse. The die was cast. One obligatory ferry crossing and drive to remote spot later, the walk commenced high on faux enthusiasm. It was only at around the halfway point that the realisation dawned – ‘dusked’ might be a more appropriate term given the dark clouds marching ominously from the horizon – that the leisurely ramble might turn into a surf. And after a few more steps, countless hurled obscenities and enough descending water to fill a lake, the untold prophecy was duly fulfilled.
It was time to head to a safe port, Mġarr, where lunch could be had. Now I know what you’re thinking: ‘You don’t have to take the car to get there from Ċirkewwa. You could have crossed over as a foot passenger’, I hear you say. And that argument gets very far with me. I just chose the wrong friends.
Tmun isn’t much to look at, concealed from view by boats on the hard and parked cars. But the welcome is warm and the homely feel unmistakeable especially after being on the receiving end of a soaking. What started off many storms ago as a husband-and-wife-run fish restaurant in Xlendi, with Jane conjuring her magic over the stove and Leli at the wheel upfront, has now become a family affair. Youngest son Paul is the conductor in the kitchen while various siblings lend a helping hand. Service is attentive without ever becoming obtrusive – never mind sloppy.
The menu, inspired by seasonal ingredients and Paul’s imagination, is certainly intriguing. Fish was off the menu on my visit. You may wonder what kind of place worthy of being described as a fish restaurant doesn’t actually have any… well, a damn honest one in my book, because it means they will only flog you the stuff if it’s super fresh. Rough sea, as we tend to get rather often at this time of year, equals fishermen not risking their lives for our voracious appetites. Now if algebra had been explained in those terms when I was at school, I might have gotten somewhere in life. But that’s for another day.
Service is attentive without ever becoming obtrusive – never mind sloppy
Did I say no fish? Not quite true. Oysters, crudo, bouillabaisse, lobster and crab bisque, deep fried battered hake, stone bass and other stuff were all there. Just as importantly, so were several meat and veggie alternatives. After a consultation period with my soaked walking partners that lasted less time it took to munch on the hot baked bread, salted butter and olives which landed on our table, we went for a feast of starters rather than the traditional route. Belatedly, the realisation had dawned upon them that things don’t have to come in threes after all.
The amuse bouche was a delicious Asian-style fishy slider that came compliments of the chef. He certainly gets my compliments for that. Then it was time to get down to business. The tempura prawns with sweet chilli sauce on the side were plump, crisp and had a satisfying, non-oily, melt-in-the-mouth feel, while the samosas oozed a flavourful mixture of gently curried lamb which would provide comfort in any weather.
The barbecue octopus – with chorizo and maple syrup jam, cured fennel, red pepper coulis and, yes there’s more, burnt avocado emulsion – was distinctively brilliant and the asparagus topped with an egg (which is gently boiled at a consistent temperature for an hour) had a delightful crunchy-runny feel. After the textures of mushroom, containing no fewer than five different varieties with pine nuts and parmesan, I could have died and gone to heaven (or the other place).
But that would have been premature before sampling the butternut squash acquerello risotto with vanilla and almonds that, simply put, was a luscious treat… I said this was a starter-only meal. Another white lie. Shared tagliata – with huge chunks of juicy beef – followed, while dessert was a combination of the cheesecake made specially by Jane herself and the delightfully creamy but feather-light panna cotta.
Amid all my gastronomic excitement, I almost forgot to mention wine. Tmun’s list isn’t bad either – ranging from local varieties to plush Bordeaux – and I’m pleased to report that it didn’t just rain down into our glasses; it veritably poured, not wanting to be outdone by the weather outside… For this level of fare, the bill was more than reasonable; better value, in fact, than you’re likely to find on the other island.
No dining experience can ever be perfect, however, so I will be critical of one thing: the company I keep and their strange habits. I will certainly be back for the fish when the weather improves. But alone, most likely.
