Risette Tasting Experience
It’s all too familiar. The slow walk through Valletta, the rush and excitement of Old Theatre Street, the hanging Risette sign that pokes out from the deliciously grey façade at No. 81. It’s all familiar.
Lester’s beaming smile is the first interaction you receive; it’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s familiar. New faces somehow also feel familiar, holding the Casa Ellul signature with effort and ease. Our table, familiar.
A dinner held together by a bottle (or more) of the familiar Baron de Rothschild Champagne where notes of marzipan, pear and apple compote and warm brioche complimented the tasting menu at Risette with a yeasty tone of elegance and a little bit of nejk.
We weren’t complaining; we felt like aristocrats, casually sipping away at a Premier Cru that you just happen to have on demand, because you can. This is something we could get familiar with; our palates approved; all the while acknowledging how special this all was.
What was to follow; not so familiar.
Mainly because Chef Steve Scicluna hardly ever repeats. He hardly ever serves us the same dish twice. He hardly ever lets you realise that even though the components on his menu might be familiar, the composition is new, it’s fresh and for diners who understand his repertoire, it’s exciting.
A trio of amuse bouche appeared on the marble tabletop; the eel beignet missing but its energy still alive and present. But first, a Parmiggiano sable in the form of a short baton; golden and aromatic with dots of lemon and vinegar gel – not only for aesthetic but for a spark of acidity and freshness that counteracted with the buttery and nutty notes of the cheese-packed biscuit. A swig of bubbles to clear the palate and build on the bready notes and your hand reaches out for the dainty tartlet of beef tartare, kefir lime foam and seaweed powder.
Here’s something you need to know about Chef Steve (although you should know already), nothing is what it seems at Risette; and the element of surprise is as overwhelming as it is satisfying. A ragout-flavoured finely chopped beef stack sits inside an elegantly thin and buttery case; already enough—but of course he would never. The kefir lime foam dancing on your palate with the citrus afternotes of the Baron de Rothschild Champagne appearing again; the seaweed powder for visual manipulation and a light umami boost.
Back to the absence of the eel beignet, a squid-ink-hued doughnut puff that packs assertive flavours of smoked oceanic fullness; in this case delivered through the haddock and egg yolk quenelle that sat atop a beautiful (and very Risette) biscuit. The piment d'espelette powder, not only pretty but also purposeful, delivers a notion of the best deviled egg in your memory. Imma how did you manage to take my favourite old-school snack and transform it into something that my humble home kitchen will never live up to? You didn’t ruin deviled eggs for me Steve, you made them all the more powerful and brought them to life in an era where old is once again cool. Kiesaħ.
For the bread course, you can refer back to any of my other comments on how the sourdough focaccia is enough to gorge yourself on and leave Risette fully satisfied. This was the best version to date, with crumpet nuances, especially when every pocket in the thin slice was filled with the accompanying butter. I could eat this all day, I even said ‘yes’ to Lester’s offer to fill up the bread basket—and that’s saying something because generally, the bread course is simply a bread course for me; hardly ever do I think, damn this is good bread. Knowing the roots of this focaccia and watching it get that little more character with every dining experience is a testament to the focus of the Risette kitchen – I mean Steve takes the starter (we named her Michelle) home with him to feed her when she likes to be fed (outside his working hours, ja marqa).
Michelle gave birth to yet another bready bite; a flatbread speckled with thyme and garlic butter notes and heavy in olive oil aroma. With all respect due this tasted like Pizza Hut’s breadstick, only grown up and ready to conquer the world — although I could sit on my sofa and eat these like I did as a gluttonous teenager. As Steve said, all you need is the garlic dip - ‘cause my man was definitely a gluttonous teenager too.
The next course hit our table. An artistic rendition where tomatoes, rossi and stracciatella came together with sensory fixation quickly building. But for the life of me… how was the prawn not the star of this dish? How was a humble tomato; prepared four ways nonetheless, the ruler of this plate?
At the centre, a beef tomato sorbet, atop a tangy and smooth stracciatella dollop that echoed as a topper for the dehydrated-then-rehydrated cherry tomato pair sitting at 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock of the dish. The cherry tomato was turgid, intense in tomatoness and felt like a supreme Caprese energy that reminds you of simple, yet delicious flavour combinations. This was my favourite tomato version.
But wait… there’s more… two elegant spheres of tomato sauce; rich, deep, bold and flavoured with Steve’s signature what-the-fuck-is-in-this attitude; working seamlessly with the texture of the sweet prawn that will forever capture a big chunk of my heart. Generally, I am offended when a Maltese prawn is cut up into bite size pieces, but here you were invited to create your own pairings in the most playful manner; the umami-forward tomato water as the solvent tying everything together.
Individually, every element could stand alone, together; magic happened with every unique bite. Steve always finds a way to cement his new fixation; this season, tomatoes and the spherification of things – his mastery.
Ohhh, what should I clean my palate with… ohhh gee-wizz Champagne, sure I’ll take a swig. And then ravioli.
Scicluna’s dough is always thin, light and yolky – just how I like it.
Thicker ribbed edges adding bite, only to burst open with the creamy pumpkin filling that pops in your mouth as you greedily force one whole raviolo onto a spoon and into your gob. I didn’t care who was looking.
As I dissected each element; the nutty and cheese-forward Parmigiano foam stood out as a celebration of all things luxurious – light and airy but thick and sumptuous, salty and slightly tangy; juxtaposed with the grassy, earthy, garlicky and savoury kombu oil that bled from under the cheese foam.
And for texture… a wee brioche disc, topped with puffed grain (I think) that again brought a harmonious flavour profile and textural balance to a seemingly simple, yet highly thought out pasta dish.
This dish can be renamed Bravioli - because the Risette kitchen team are absolute bravi.
Moving on to the first main course, a familiar, yet by no means unwanted, brioche crust (yes more breadiness), that flanks a delicate seabass portion pan-fried delicately in butter for added… you guessed it texture.
In my humble opinion, texture is a fundamental part of a balanced dish. It adds suspense, surprise and gives your palate and mind the chance to rethink what you thought you knew. Here, the buttery flesh of the fish crumbles at the touch of your fork, and further melts in your mouth with a briny and truly Mediterranean character taken somewhere else with the buttery brioche cloak that holds it all together.
Swept in the mussel and chorizo beurre blanc where salt, smoke and power linger on your tongue like that clingy yet lovable friend who you can’t get enough of. Cut the richness with a flash of acidity and earthiness; each in two-ways because we know Steve likes to really give it to ya.
A forcefully citric lemon gel reminiscent of the amuse bouche (3 courses later) and a vin jaune foam — because why hold back if you know what you know. By golly, this was sharp, it was toasty and it was airy. And it brought a level of freshness to the dish that would have otherwise been bogged down by the richness and salinity of the beurre blanc. Fabulous.
The finishing element on this dish, courgette: two ways. First a picked batonnet layered with fresh, and presumably naturally kept, teeny weeny cascade of courgette slices; two portions to make sure you get to taste the cleansing character of this element twice (how lucky) and a courgette cream to lap up your trailing flakes of fish in an earthy, sweet and soft-herb treated spot of extra.
Again, here Chef Steve encourages you to play, to experiment and to figure out what pairing piques your interest the most. My verdict, leave a chunk of focaccia to wipe clean your plate. Again, I didn’t care who was looking. (Why is scarpetta so controversial anyway?)
The final savoury portion to the meal, one that made me rethink my approach to dissecting a dish: the guinea fowl.
The role of a food critic is to find the areas where improvement can take place; not to be picky and not to assume that you know more than the kitchen professionals pouring their hearts into every dish, but, at least in my perspective, to keep their creative juices flowing and to give insight to the diner’s experience. My respect and relationship with Chef Steve allows me to speak frankly and honestly; qualities I know he and his restaurant team appreciate.
As I tasted each element as a sole component on the dish; I thought that they were too powerful as standalones. I am probably right; but who, other than a professional taster does this? Nobody I would assume. A dish comes together when every element interacts with each other, much like all the playfulness imposed on the diner throughout this tasting menu. And this is the correct way to fully enjoy a dish.
The BBQ guinea fowl can stand alone and feature on any main dish in the existence of fine dining. The browned brioche crumb; the textural element of the dish, comes in second-to-none in terms of flavour, creativity and visual impact — like shards of butter, biscuit and boldness. The flesh and skin of the bird; flawlessly prepared. The celeriac, earthy, pure and laced with a nutty overtone in its purée form and with subtle, tender and might I say perfect preparation in its semi-circular sous-vide discs.
Approaching the smoked vinegar gel and Perigourdine sauce out of context might strike the common diner as too much.
And I say this with careful consideration.
The gel: abrasive and dominant. The sauce: salt-laden and overly-yeasty.
But when paired with the iron-rich guinea fowl: absolutely necessary.
This is what makes professional food tasting such a meticulous and attention-driven role. This is why an artist should be examined by only those who truly understand and live their expression.
The vinegar gel cuts through the richness with a smokey appeal that softens the pungent barnyard finish of the guinea fowl. The Perigourdine sauce coats the earthy, nutty and savoury guinea fowl with even more earthy, nutty and savouriness.
Quick judgement is the downfall of artistry. Learning how to identify the ‘why’ in a dish is a skill that may challenge the overthinker. Chef Steve humbles me. And for that I am eternally grateful.
With tastebuds in full swing, your palate remembers to relax, for next is the sweet segment of the tasting menu. First a poached peach, apricot sorbet and spherified apricot mousse with jasmine glaze and a savoury basil tone. Not to mention the carmelised yoghurt crisp that I could have had a lot more of.
This pre-dessert was a great transition from savoury to sweet; celebrating seasonality, understanding texture and softening the palate after the main courses. As a pre-dessert should always do.
And just to make sure your sweet tooth is fully satisfied; the final dish on Risette’s tasting menu; a rice millefeuille where elements of joviality enter with Chef Steve’s flair and playfulness in full activation mode.
Four thin rice-based ‘crackers’ met with vanilla, faint notes of ginger and the irreplicable flavour of mulberry. Prepared three ways; as an elegantly smooth sorbet topped with a berry-flavoured tuille and a textured jam, seeds and all for pop and a touch of bitterness.
But the funnest part, the whiskey boba. Get outta town Steve. X’buzz!
Who doesn’t love whiskey? Who doesn’t love boba? Who doesn’t love whiskey boba, mulberry sorbet and that iconic rice flavour? Tears. Weeping. Somebody save me!
This was an incredible way to end a complex meal.
Full of familiar unfamiliarity and a thread that carried the menu through from start to finish with the micro-basil leaves nodding at Chef Scicluna’s pure Mediterranean roots.
Tables cleared and petit fours featuring peanut, chocolate and cherry as well as a small yuzu bomb that clears your palate for your elated walk through Malta’s capital; bustling outside the doors of No. 81.
The only thing sweeter; a friendly chat with Chef Steve and his right-hand superstar Chef Martina Bonello; whose smiles, enthusiasm and sheer glisten of bravura, I hope will always be familiar.
My last comment: why don't these guys have a Star?
