Tag Archives: malta

The story of the Maltese balcony

I usually get to know a city intimately by doing two things: walking and looking up. By walking, I’m more likely to discover places which haven’t yet been rated on Trip Advisor and by looking up, I can appreciate the architectural features a city offers.

I have a thing for balconies. When travelling in Paris last June, I embraced the art of flânerie to savour the beauty of the wrought iron balconets. Later in Berlin, I witnessed residents’ attempts to recreate a picnic area in their own balconies, complete with plants, colourful striped parasols and a satellite dish to ensure no game of Bundesliga is missed. Meanwhile up north, Stockholmers seem to rarely use curtains in an attempt to invite every photon of light indoors.

Although every manner of balcony adds to the unique personality of a city, no balcony in Europe tells a more fascinating story than that of the Maltese balcony.

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Clipped to Valletta’s golden walls, the traditional gallarija immediately strikes visitors as distinctive and extremely versatile. Its aesthetic, proportion and colour enrich the visual aspects of our streets through bright paint, wood and simplicity.

But where do these balconies come from?

It all started in the late 17th century, when Valletta acquired the first timber enclosed balcony on the island. It is widely held that this was the pine green one in the Grand Master’s Palace, stretching from Old Theatre Street up to St George’s Square. However, we have no record as to whether this was locally designed or imported.

The Maltese balcony is probably a derivative of the Spanish style balcony, which in turn is strongly influenced by the Arabic mashrabiya. However, the ethos of the Maltese balcony is different.

“In Arabic culture, the mashrabiya, literally a ‘peep-hole’, is a lattice screen enclosure generally built as a wooden window frame, which screened the window space completely,” architectural historian Conrad Thake says. “This style of balcony presented the Muslim female with her only direct contact with the outside world.”

Meanwhile, the function of the Maltese balcony is more of a theatre box and serves as an unobtrusive platform whereby one can witness the unfolding events on the streets below, designed to be seen, as well as to look out from.

“Put simply, the mashrabiya was a means of hiding away from life outside, whereas the Maltese balcony provides a platform through which you can participate in the life outside,” Thake says.

Winston Churchill said that the buildings we shape end up shaping us. The spaces we live in and the way we interact with them have had a significant impact on our culture. And the balcony is not only climatically and architecturally an important feature, but also a sociological one too.

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On a practical level, the balcony is used to provide light and to control the climate. It’s also common to see the day’s washing hanging out to dry on balconies.

In the early 1990s, anthropologist Sibyl O’Reilly Mizzi observed this indigenous cultural phenomenon and wrote how:

“Many houses have a closed balcony, an ideal observation post for the street below and the activities of passers-by, without one’s self being observed. Towns and villages [in Malta] are densely populated, so there is almost always someone passing, some activity to interest a watcher. It is a perfect arrangement for neighbours to watch each other surreptitiously. It enables them to become familiar with the daily routine of everyone in the neighbourhood. Any deviation from routine, even a minor one, is immediately noticed.”

Two decades later, the balcony’s function on a practical level still exists, but what about its sociological use? Do people still spend their afternoons sitting in their balconies as they once used to?

While many in Valletta still adorn their balconies with a collection of plants, drapes, lights and effigies of saints during religious feasts, or use it for storing things, very few are those who casually while away their time interacting with life outside.

Wandering through the streets of Valletta on your average Sunday afternoon, most balconies are open to let in the crisp sea breeze, clothes hang outside to dry, while music can be heard having a duet with the pigeons’ clapping wings. But otherwise, I could only see two women peering out of their balcony at the world below.

The balcony is moving on to a new chapter in its history.

Its function of knowing from the inside what is going on outside seems to be declining. But is this a threat to the traditional Maltese balcony?

Not necessarily. Paraphrasing Churchill’s quote, it seems like it’s no longer the architecture that is shaping us, but the opposite.

10 mouth-watering dishes from Malta

Malta’s cuisine relies heavily on locally available produce such as tomatoes, honey, olives and other vegetables, which thrive in the warm but harsh climate. Recipes have been derived from other Mediterranean kitchens, the Sicilian, French and North African all seemed to have left their mark, although there are also traces of British occupation – oddly enough, the Maltese still enjoy their tea served with a splash of milk!

Here are ten Maltese dishes that have come to represent the island and its rich cultural heritage.

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The Savoury

1) Soppa tal-Armla (literally: Widow’s Soup)

It is hard not to notice the irresistible smell of authentic home cooking when walking through the narrow streets of a typical Maltese village before midday. Up until half a century ago, Maltese women would leave their broths to cook slowly on their small paraffin stoves from early or mid-morning.

widow soup recipe

Is-soppa tal-armla is considered to be the most traditional Maltese soup recipe, borrowed from a past where the poorest widows boiled the cheapest greens as a warm and healthy alternative to rich protein meals. Its contents are typically green and white vegetables, potatoes, carrots, beans, peas, cauliflower and others, all mixed together with a tomato paste (locally: kunserva).

In Malta, soups were not always meant to be a starter – very often, they were intended to form a nutritious meal by themselves, and frequently, any leftover soup would be eaten again for supper with a poached egg, or served with a ġbejna (a Maltese cheeselet made from goat’s milk), typically prepared by the widows themselves.

2) Torta tal-Lampuki

The lampuka (or the small dorado, dolphinfish or mahi-mahi) is a shimmering silver and golden fish that swims between Malta and the sister island of Gozo between the end of August until the beginning of November, before making its way towards the Atlantic.

The Maltese are very fond of their lampuki, and when in season, it is very likely that you’ll hear lampuki vendors roaming the streets with their small vans yelling: Lampuki ħajjin! (They’re alive!) to emphasise their freshness. Insider tip: fresh fish tend to have clear eyes and red gills.

This popular fish can be cooked in a variety of ways: either shallow-fried or oven baked. It is generally served with a rich tomato sauce mixed with capers, onions, olives and fresh herbs. However, a local’s favourite way to cook lampuki is in a pie, combined with spinach, olives and any other ingredient that would tickle the Maltese housewife’s imagination. Each family tends to have their own unique way of making lampuki pie, since recipes are usually handed down from mother to daughter.

If you’re visiting Malta in season, make sure you try Busy Bee‘s recipe. For the catch of the day, visit the Ix-Xlukkajr restaurant in the quaint fishermen’s village of Marsaxlokk.

3) Timpana

The timpana is definitely not a good choice for the weight-conscious. The recipe is thought to be adapted from Sicilian cuisine and is – more or less – macaroni enclosed in a pastry. Traditionally, the dish was prepared for a Sunday meal, but this was during a time when women were still taking their large trays of food to the communal ovens in the village bakeries.

The timpana is nowadays prepared as an entrée for Christmas lunch, followed by turkey. It is prepared with penne-shaped pasta, blended in a rich tomato and minced meat sauce and mixed with eggs and cheese. Finally, the whole mixture is wrapped in a short-crust pastry and topped off with a flaky puff-pastry to resemble a pie.

4) Pastizzi

Pastizzi are the most popular savoury snack on the islands. They must have already been much-loved in the days of the Holy Inquisition, since records archiving 18th century lifestyles in Malta highlight that the navy mention cheesecakes and pastries, possibly similar to modern-day pastizzi.

pastizzi u te fit tazza

Pastizzi look almost like croissants, but are rolled in a flaky pastry, stuffed with either salty ricotta or mushy peas. They’re typically bought from little tuckshops or pastizzerias, nestled in almost every corner of every village.

The most famous pastizzeria in Malta goes by the name of Crystal Palace (in Rabat, Malta) – known by the locals as ‘Tas-Serkin’, which is the owner’s nickname. The shop’s popularity isn’t due to the fact that they make the best pastizzi, but because the shop is always open. This is convenient for young clubbers who frequent nearby discos to pop by for a late-night (or early-morning) snack.

Make sure you enjoy your pastizzi with a classic cup of tea or a bottle of Kinnie (Malta’s very own tangy orange-flavoured soft drink).

5) Fenkata (Rabbit Stew)

Rabbit meat was relatively affordable during the Middle Ages and was considered the ‘beef of the lower classes’. In fact, both rabbits and hares were hunted in large quantities until prohibited by the Knights of St John, in order to safeguard the island’s meagre resources. The dish became popular after the lifting of the hunting ban in the late 18th century; today, it is one of those concoctions widely identified as the ‘national dish’.

A fenkata would typically consist of two courses – the first dish would be a huge bowl of spaghetti tossed in a rabbit ragu, wine and herbs; the second dish would be the actual rabbit meat cooked in a similar sauce, served with peas and fries. One of the most authentic places to try fenkata is at the United Bar in the rural village of Mġarr (Malta).

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The Sweet

The Maltese menu does not really contain a lot of sweet dishes and desserts, since main courses were usually followed by fresh fruit or local cheeses, such as ġbejniet. The desserts we now know tend to be borrowed, and the majority is similar to those served in Sicily.

6) Qagħaq tal-Għasel (Treacle or Honey Rings)

The honey ring dates back to the 15th century and is widely associated with Carnival and Christmas periods. It is a ring pastry filled with qastanija – a mixture of marmalade, sugar, lemon, oranges, mixed spices, cinnamon, vanilla and syrup.

Although not very difficult to make, the sweet rings do require time and patience to prepare. It is usually served with a round glass of wine of a warm cup of English tea.

Qagħaq tal-Għasel can be bought from any grocery shop or local confectionery, although Caffe Cordina‘s secret family recipe is acclaimed as the best sample of this gooey treat.

 7) Pudina tal-Ħobż (Bread Pudding)

The 18th century Maltese were very poor and bread was considered the most important food – in fact, some pensions were even paid in bread. Thus, in order to economise on food resources, they would leave their stale bread pieces to soak, and by adding some sultanas, candied peel and chocolate they would transform it into a sweet pudding. Unfortunately this delicacy is becoming far less popular among locals since it is considered time-consuming to make.

8) Christmas Log

In continental European countries, such as Germany, France and Belgium, the traditional Christmas log (or Buche de Nöel) is made out of an Italian sponge cake coated in chocolate. The Maltese version, however, consists of crushed biscuits, dried cherries, nuts and liqueur, mixed together in condensed milk, then rolled in the shape of a log and coated in melted chocolate. It is refrigerated overnight, and served in round slices at the end of Christmas lunch.

9) Kwareżimal

During the period before Easter, most Maltese used to fast by denying themselves meat on Wednesdays and Fridays. They also avoided sweets. The kwareżimal (derived from ‘quaresima’, the forty days of lent) was the only ‘sweet’ that was allowed during the Lenten season.

Although recipes tend to vary, it is traditionally prepared with almonds, honey and spices, containing neither fat nor eggs. As a biscuit, the kwareżimal is quite large, approximately 15cm by 5cm wide and 2cm thick, and has an oblong shape.

Even though Lenten rules are no longer insisted upon, the kwareżimal is still in demand, especially around Lent and Easter periods, as tradition dictates. These days, they are served while hot, and should be enjoyed with unsalted pistachio nuts or chopped roasted almonds on top, or a thread of local honey.

10) Kannoli (Ricotta-filled cornets)

The kannoli are deep-fried pastry tubes filled with sweetened ricotta, sometimes candied peel, and icing on top. They are generally served in the finest cafés on the island. You can enjoy an icing-covered kannol with a view at the Fontanella in Mdina, where they are served only on Sundays and Public Holidays.

Originally published on The Culture Trip.

Does luck determine making the right choices?

As I clambered onto a parked Maltese Bus on a Wednesday afternoon, I was overwhelmed – almost suffocating – by the intricacy of its internal decoration, just as if it were a holy shrine.

My eyes darted from one relic to the next: attached below the dashboard was a large silver horse-shoe with a “good luck” painted neatly in a curvy blue script, bestowing upon the passengers an immediate sense of security. On either side of the centre-mirror, glowing above a flickering sort of light surrounded by a halo of plastic flowers were the peaceful staring faces of Jesus and Mary.

I was intrigued by all this, especially by the humoristic Maltese element of the crass slogans “don’t follow me I’m lost” and “meet me half-way” painted in tberfil across the windscreen.

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Considering I was early and there was no one else on the bus, I sparked up a conversation with the two bus drivers on board. I mustered up the courage to divert from the usual useless small-talk about the sudden change of weather and dived into the topic of superstition.

One of the two drivers seemed taken aback by my curiosity and bluntly stated there was nothing for me to know apart from the fact that he was a very unlucky man. The other driver, also the owner of this four-wheeled embellishment seemed in the mood for a chat and keenly sympathised with my genuine interest. He passionately explained that his bus has been decorated in this manner for almost twenty years and does not intend having it any other way.

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Superstitions have been among us since recorded history and are based on outdated facts that have been handed down from generation to generation. There are still many who believe that it is bad luck to see a black cat, open an umbrella indoors, or walk beneath a ladder, but whether all these beliefs hold is an entirely different story, and, ultimately, subject to an individual’s interpretation.

Common sense would tell you not to walk through a ladder because you would risk having something fall on your head; it is quite curious actually how this superstition is associated with religion. For instance, the triangle that is formed when a ladder is propped against the wall used to be associated to the Holy Trinity and walking through it would mean that you are “violating” this space.

The “lucky” driver’s clear blue eyes looked through me and I could easily tell that he had a more positive attitude towards life in general. He is a firm believer of good fortune, compared to his colleague. Whenever good things happen to him, he feels endowed with luck and thanks God; whenever good things happen to others, he wishes them all the goodness they have received and more. Perhaps this bus is indeed his luck charm.

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The conversation with these drivers was smoother than the ride back home; they helped me realise that a belief in good or bad luck might actually transform a person’s life. From what I gather, “lucky” people tend to construct this positive framework within their minds. They make the best out of their misfortunes by spontaneously trying to imagine how the bad circumstances they encounter could have been worse.

These people are solely predisposed to expect good things to happen and will work hard in order to seek out for opportunities that would help them achieve and eventually be successful. Someone’s fate cannot possibly be determined solely by whether or not a person considers him/herself to be lucky. Fate is all about choosing the path of least resistance but then again, our freedom of choice is actually quite illusive. When several possibilities are open, we consider the risk of having to choose one.

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Does luck determine making the right choices?

Luck is that enigmatic and unpredictable thing resulting in a good or bad outcome. Whatever it is, and wherever it comes from, it is something which we are still unable to rationalise. Whether you believe in luck or not, it is always there lurking somewhere, immiscible within our lives.

Let’s face it – none of us choose our ascribed characteristics or our parents’ occupation – impersonal luck is something we are born with. Luck might not necessarily be a force that guides our fate, but merely an attitude framed within one’s mind; it all depends on how much importance you give it.

Things will always fall into place, no matter how implausible the idea might sound.