Tartarun Tasting Experience

My relationship with the Schiavone brothers is based on trust. Yes, the foundations are set in hung fish, deep sauces and an explosion of creativity through the Snacks of the house. The movement of seacuterie and fish butchery was born through the experimentation of David Burke, Josh Niland and Michael Nelson all leaving their stamp on the school of thought. But Chef James Schiavone needs the same due recognition, at least locally for his lampuki ham; and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. 

But back to trust. James and Stephen trust that I am here to nurture and celebrate both their artforms. I’m not here biex inmaqdar — I think that that sort of ‘food critic’ is probably a very lonely person — I am here to understand the smallest detail and remind anyone who wants to eat well that we have so many options on this island. When it comes to fish… we have one that elevates the standards: Tartarun. 

Stephen claims that Tartarun is not a fine dining restaurant and that you should expect the kitchen to “just throw food at you… but it’s in an orderly fashion; promise”. It’s always nice chatting with Stephen, he’s jovial and always happy to speak to you, even on a busy night such as ours. 

A glass of Charles Heidsieck accompanied the Snacks, usually my most anticipated course in any restaurant, and luckily there are so many at Tartarun. This visit took us to a total of 6 snacks; and they’re not all tiny. 

First up, we readied our palate with Gillardeau oysters with guindillas chillies and lime, the burst of acidity from the dressing contrasted with sweetness in that ionic oyster texture. Chew, chew, chew, the flavours grow and develop with every swirl in your mouth. A clean and light start. Happily followed by an airy and spongy blini topped with slightly smoked lampuka and pickled jalapeño. 

I’m gonna get right into it, here… with my second bite; and where I think that Chef James Schiavone carries his superpower. When we think of a fish restaurant, we expect fresh fish prepared expertly, correct? But if you’ve never experienced Tartarun and specifically Chef James’ handling and treatment of his catch, I (humbly) do not think you’ve experienced great fish. Every dish on this fish restaurant’s menu is shown respect, love and slapped with an insane amount of expertise. The smoked mackerel and tuna brioche was another signature example. The coveted local tuna, thinly sliced and seasoned upon the perfectly-creamy smoked mackerel meatiness all sat upon a biscuity-vessel. 

The next three snacks feature the mini tax-xewk moment of the lampuki ham crostini with tomato confit and gardiniera; an experience that gives you sweetness, acid, texture, salt and umami. The balance of smoke, sweet and salt is what impressed me most from the get go, and carried through till the later dishes. Two snacks to go… the classic Tartarun olive, with anchovy and miso–now upgraded to a tartlet with the right selection of sprouts and mico-herbs to compliment the oily, umami ‘olive’. Welcome upgrade, good thinking. 

The last snack; another variation, that I think is also an elevation. The prawn croustade broke up with kimchi and found a better fit with zucchini, kombu and Ibérico ham. Still delivering all those salty-sweet crossovers that the kimchi gave, but with a more umami-forward elevation. Yes, I’ll have another 6 (of each snack) (I mean, why can’t we just eat only snacks?) 

Our table is cleared and I feel as though I’ve already got enough to write a book (ehe, a book James). But the next course elevated the game again. Hung for 7 days. 7. Seven. The sargu sashimi carried the most transformed raw fish texture that’s so interesting to me. It also makes me feel that I want to learn so much more about fish, seeing as we’re an island in the Mediterranean. 

Left neat, and served in a broth of smoked bones and sake; reduced to a consume for the ultimate fish essence. This is not your regular ‘sashimi’; unless your standards of sushi are Jiro Ono’s. Paired with a Soave Classico for a fresh pairing with no buttery elements; just crispness.  

The fun just keeps piling on. A fried bread with bottarga. I was honestly a bit scared of this one, I thought it would be a bit overly fishy for me personally—probably because my first encounter with bottarga was awful. This was not. First of all, the flattened ftira was fried to a crisp but left airy and light with its interior. There’s something that melts in the middle when you bite, but I couldn’t find a distinct layer. There’s a herbaceous sauce, similar to the buttermilk bream. And then there’s the bottarga that is basically the saltiest salt with an umami depth that dissolves onto the roof of your mouth as you bite into it. There’s not much to this dish, but the Schaivone’s follow simplicity perfectly; it’s their family trend. 

A sweet Alsace classic that was intended to cut the heaviness of the next dish gave notes of honey and caramel. I watched the thick, long legs-sweet and dense-trickle down my glass; the next dish arrived. I’d heard all about it; Chef James was excited to share this with us and if you know fish at all, you’ll know that the collar is a coveted piece. You’ll also know that ħawwad (pink snapper) is delicious; Chef insisted. Is this… a tax-xewk moment? A chicken-fried ħawwad collar with miso ketchup and vadouvan curry? Maybe, yes.

Lucky is the bearer of the fried collar, its internal flesh like the most on-point chippy fish you’ve ever had, the batter, unlike the soggy chippy fish you always end up with, but instead like the most perfect southern fried chicken batter you dream of. This is so clever. And paired with a curry and ketchup; while you drink a classic glass of wine. In love. This was Tartarun’s tax-xewk moment.

But this next contender was so close to the tax-xewk moment too. It might be a tie, with the lampuki ham getting a special mention. As a 2024 Antonin was poured… “and for your pasta course. The Swordfish Carbonara”. 

Number one, I’m not a huge fan of the flavour of swordfish; and when cured and smoked the flavour is really pronounced; so how was I to enjoy this? I’ll be honest, as a crisp on its own, not my favourite; but in the lush cream of the peppery carbonara sauce? 100% yes; you win Chef, every time I guess. What a privilege to expand my palate with you Schiavones. 

A glass of ‘the Pinot Noir of Sicily’ and a dish I last ate some 10+ years ago: stuffed calamari. The last time I ate this dish, it was made by my nanna, my queen—but her version was a disaster; you need to clean the inside granny. 24 year old me was mortified. 34 year old me is reborn. 

The chorizo and tentacle farci filled every pocket of air, creating a clean cross-section; pair with the grilled tomato that disintegrates onto your fork, the basil-forward herb pesto and the ‘give me a straw’ beurre blanc that I would trade out for my very own blood supply. I love butter. But wait… a second sauce, a chicken wing jus that rounds the dish with an umami finish. Sorry nanna, this one was better. 

If the order of a tasting menu was approached, but remember, this was not a tasting menu, but rather an à la carte experience, the sundae should follow next. A pannacotta-style mousse of olive oil, jammy citrus, crunchy caramelized sourdough, micro basil and citrus oil. Served in a tall glass you need to scoop right into. A swig of Gużé, a local passito Zibibbo with the friendliest of mouthfeels that lead you on to the unavoidable chocolate course. 

The chocolate tart is texturally impressive. It’s like Mulino Bianco’s Pan di Stelle, local health-treat-bakers Anurakti and the filling of Ferrero’s Tronky got together for a really good time. The brownie base, the snap of the sides, the nutty praline, the creamy mousse - and a light fig ice-cream to round it off. 

All I have left to say quite frankly is thank you Tartarun, you’ve reconfigured my palate.