Bacchus Restaurant
1, Inguanez Alley Mdina, Malta
Tel: 2145 4981

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

When you walk into Bacchus in the deepest heart of Mdina, it’s a veritable leap backwards in time.

Nestled at the end of a charming backwalk in Malta’s ancient capital, you’d be forgiven for expecting a Knight In Shining Armour to leap out from behind the balustrade to lay a silken napkin delicately across your lap. Even if his creaking metallic suit would make him struggle to bend over.

No such warrior from the Middle Ages greeted me, upon mine (un)hallowed arrival. Instead, the courteous Maître D’ showed me to the dining antechamber, offering a choice of tables. That’s always appreciated and is far preferable to being dumped brusquely in a subpar spot behind the plant pots. A fine start, then.

Look, I won’t lie: parking in Mdina can be tricky at the best of times. I was obligated to tether my fine carriage over a kilometre away from the restaurant, on the outskirts of Rabat. This is not a joke! Granted: it’s not Bacchus’s fault.

I am what they might refer to in the textbooks as ‘a cautious parker’. But a warm welcome did much to calm my transport-related woes. The vein that was positively popping from the side of my head upon arrival rapidly began to recede, once I was comfortably ensconced at my table.

The food and wine menus, fresh bread and olives marinated in rosemary oil were promptly supplied by a friendly waiting staff. Now then. Call me a stickler, but at the time of writing, the menu posted online at Bacchus’s website differs somewhat from the placard placed in front of me that night. This, both in detail and in price. That’s not ideal. But – like Robin Hood on his way into the depths of Sherwood Forest (to rob a nobleman or three) – I forged ahead.

 How about a glass of wine? Well… no, Sir. Wine is by the bottle only, I’m afraid. A half-bottle was the closest alternative – starting at €11. Hrmmmm. And yet, still not ready to be felled by fate’s cruel axe of unpredictability, I proceeded to order my favourite non-vinaceous beverage, along with a chosen starter and main course.

 The ambience in Bacchus is charming. Well-dressed waiters scurry to and fro with efficacy. The low lighting, rustic stone architecture and classic decor impart the feeling of being deep within the bowels of an ancient citadel.

This venue’s banquet-room and terrace are a sight to behold in their own right (alas, they’re currently closed for the winter season). So to all you springtime fiancés and would-be charmers out there, take note: Bacchus is a decent spot for a romantic date. And no: I do not speak from direct experience  (more’s the pity.)

My first course arrives before I’ve even speared my fourth olive with one of the supplied miniature wooden lancets (known in the colonies as ‘toothpicks’). I opted for the fish soup with fresh shellfish, chilli ginger and kale.

This venue’s banquet-room and terrace are a sight to behold

This is an intriguing spin on the classic Maltese aljotta soup dish. To those discerning readers, who have tired of the regular fishchunks-in-broth incarnation typically served here, you might perk up a little in your chair, as you read what follows.

The concoction was full-bodied and satisfying. A hearty blend of tomato and onion was topped by a generous selection of shellfish. Add a squeeze of lemon for zest? Now you’re really in business. And boy - does this pescatarian bouillon pack a punch. Served at the perfect temperature for supping, I could really savour the ginger seasoning, bolstered as it was by a throaty kick of chilli. It was pleasantly warming, for a chilly Maltese winter’s eve.

Fenkata’s never had it so good!

Our hardy readers from more north European climes will doubtless guffaw at the notion of a “chilly” Maltese night. (Grant me a smidgeon of poetic licence here, will you?)

So that was a vivacious starter to open the night’s gastronomic proceedings. I’ll mention, though, that this soup might not be for everyone, generously seasoned and piquant as it was. That said, I already felt the contentment of a filling debut to this evening’s culinary quest.

The waiting staff remained on point, with a customary check-in a few minutes into my starter. After the soup dish had been whisked away, I had but a few minutes to muse delinquently at the existential futility of my existence. Then my entrée arrived.

 Since fenkata is clearly all the rage nowadays, I was intrigued to sample Bacchus’s interpretation thereof (especially after their unique riff on aljotta’). To the uninitiated (is there anybody out there?), a fenkata is a rabbit stew, typically slow-cooked in a rich tomato sauce, along with carrots and marrowfat peas. My dish arrived in a farmhouse-style stewpot, complemented by a heartily-roasted assortment of potatoes and legumes.

 In my view, getting a stew just right is a bit of a fine art nowadays. And here, Bacchus did not disappoint. Raising the lid of said earthenware vessel revealed a steaming concoction of optimally-crocked rabbit portions. The generously-provisioned meat was top-notch, both in consistency and quality. Moist but not undercooked, it fell off the bone with the merest of prods from my crude metallic skewering implements (these medieval times are tough, you see.)

The ever-so-slightly gamey taste of rabbit could be savoured in all its splendour. It was nicely supported by the sauce and vegetables, as well as a decent smattering of stewed viscera. Full of flavour (but not overly rich), this sauce was a fine example of casserole-style cooking done right.

I literally blazed through the meal (perhaps against my better judgement). But really, it’s one of the finer examples of the classic fenkata dish that I’ve sampled thus far on these splendid Maltese isles.

If there was one downside to my (albeit serendipitously) satisfying choice of main course, it’s that it left no room for dessert. I was genuinely curious to sample Bacchus’s take on the creme brulée, given their by-now amply-demonstrated proficiency in the kitchens. Alas, this third course would surely have pushed yours truly beyond bursting point. And, lest we forget: I still had a substantial walk back to my humble steed, left munching on grass in a distant field as it was.

This is Aljotta - but not as we know it (and beware the chilli!)

And so, despite the politest of invocations from my head waiter that evening, I politely declined to order dessert. Thus was I left to calmly sip the remainder of my drink, while savouring the considerable array of flavours that had aroused my tastebuds that evening.

 Now I’ve patronised my fair share of eateries, grills, diners and saloons the world over. That night, I had to walk into this one. But it doesn’t take Maid Marion to see that the dining adventures of one reluctant knight don’t amount to a hill o’ beans in this crazy world.

 That said, I do consistently take note of an establishment’s washing closets ‒ their bathrooms, powder rooms, lavatories ‒ the ‘bog’, even. Call it what you will. I do believe that a restaurant’s toilet facilities convey an important statement of intent to the customer.

Again, Bacchus came through. Their said facilities ‒ at the top of a charming oaken staircase ‒ are pleasantly appointed in darkwood panelling. Most importantly of all, they are clean, private and functional. This is unlike many establishments I’ve had the displeasure of visiting, here in Malta. Nor do I feel that clean bathrooms should be the exclusive purview of more upmarket restaurants such as this one. Any greasy spoon serving food or drink should make functional, regularly-cleaned toilets a top priority.

Call me a quibbler. Perhaps you will feel it to be but a minor consideration ‒ an afterthought, footnote or postscript. But for me, when it comes to the tightrope walk along that precipice between a fine dining experience and a merely-mediocre meal? Well. A dodgy outhouse can truly spoil the whole sorry enterprise.

 And so ‒ in summation ‒ my meal at Bacchus was a very good one. It’s not the cheapest joint in town, to be clear. But the quality of dishes served is high.

Top that off with a pleasant and efficient service and a setting that ‒ for a hopeful suitor ‒ cannot fail as a charming entreaty to his princess (verily, she will surely weep for joy and utter that immortal “Yes!” in response). What you are left with is a classic dining experience in the heart of one of Europe’s oldest medieval bastions. Recommended.