Guest Post: Something Interesting Really Has Come Out Of The PN

Just an ordinary każin

Outside, the każin looks as dreadful as all the rest of them.

Above the facade of faded blue and matted diesel exhaust, a plastic PN maduma looms, defiantly – if not desperately – clinging on to days past.

You’d think it was just another political bar – a hangout where aging Nazzjonalisti can escape the mundanity of domestic life, drink half pints of Excel and enjoy a bit of indoor smoking and casual racism.   

The only clue is a black cotton sheet in the doorway.

Not a PN party flag, but another symbol of ancient empire – a Japanese noren curtain, traditionally hung outside shops and restaurants, that says they are open for business.

It is stamped with the word Hanabi, Japanese for ‘fireworks’.

The owner Alex, a Singaporean, wanted something that the Maltese could pronounce.

Sidenote: A friend’s mother recently got it mixed up and called the place ‘għabbejt’, which still makes me smile (Sorry Will).   

A refined space

Inside, the sushi bar is a simple but elegant space that should have no place being in any każin.

By the door, Tokyo certificates purport, albeit in Japanese, that Alex has some degree of federally recognised skill with a fish filleting knife.

On the walls, beautiful silkscreen prints sourced from an island in the South Pacific.

And, in the back – often the place where the most interesting bits of restaurants live – are two fridges.

One loaded with wonderful sake and the other dry aging fish.

Local red snapper, sea bream, and varying cuts of bluefin tuna hang in the dry ager for anywhere from a week to a month.

As the fish gradually lose moisture, their flavour concentrates and the outer skin dries out, creating a crisp bark for textural contrast – think charcuterie meets crudi.

I’d already been to Hanabi a couple of times.

This time I dragged along some accomplices: Lovin Malta’s David Grech, eCabs chief Matthew Bezzina, and fellow writer Yannick Pace.

All three have a self-professed ‘food is fuel’ disposition that gives me an eye twitch.

This idea that eating as purely a function of sustenance is something I’m determined to remedy.

What to order?

We ignore the sushi rolls.

There’s nothing wrong with the rolls.

But what makes Hanabi special is what they’re doing with their fish.

And that is best experienced with as little distraction as possible.

So we settle on sashimi, nigiri, and chirashi, which loosely translates to ‘scattered sushi’ – slices of fish served in a bowl over rice.

We opened with two ceramic dishes of tuna tataki.

Slivers of tuna loin seared on all sides, with pickled onions and slices of jalapeno, swimming in a shallow bath of ponzu-spiked soy vinaigrette.

When we finished I wanted to drink the remaining sauce from the bowl.   

If Eddie Fenech Adami is to have a legacy please let it be that ponzu.

Next: a selection of nigiri.

The Hokkaido scallops, from the plankton-rich waters of northern Japan, are sweet, almost creamy.

Yes, they are flown in, but so is Isle of MTV and countless other horrors.

The red snapper is local and delicate. Its plump pillow of rice is ‘just warm’ and only very lightly vinegared.

The sea bass is topped with “an experiment”.

Alex tells us that in Japan it is common for nigiri to be served with diced shisho leaves – an edible herb.

In Malta, shisho is hard to come by, so he’s been playing around with a paste of lemon peel and other secrets.

Sometimes experiments work. I’m not certain this one did.  But it’s willingness to experiment in the first place that counts here.  

Normally, I’d steer clear of ordering Salmon.

But don’t.

Get the seared salmon nigiri.

Bursts of blow torch make the fish oils run and dribble in all kinds of slutty, salacious ways and a sprinkle of sugar is caramelised into a brulée topping that cracks like a dominatrix whip.   

It’s carnal.    

At the sushi bar counter, there are brushes gleaming with different soy-based sauces that I wish I could brush my teeth with.

But, I’ve approached the counter for another reason.

Alex is importing rice wine from some of the finest sake breweries in Japan and I wanted his help navigating the fridge.

We had a couple of Junmai, which means ‘pure rice’ – no extra alcohol has been added during production.

Most of Hanabi’s sake has a stated polish rate, which is an expression of how much of the rice is discarded in the cleaning process before brewing begins.

This isn’t cheap drinking.

But each glass is soft and soothing.

We skip dessert – Hanabi offers a matcha tiramisu for those that are that way inclined.

Instead, Alex offers us a drink.   

By this point, we are two bottles deep, Bezzina who works harder than anyone really should is holding on for dear life, having started work at some unspeakable hour.

Pace on the other hand had only just gotten started musing about the goings on of politics – something he himself concedes he could do all night.

Grech’s eyes have that menacing look a Great White gets just before devouring an innocent seal. No doubt he is contemplating turning Alex into an influencer.

I’ve said it before: he’s the guy who told Roxanne to turn on her red light in the first place.

We learn that Alex has been in Malta for six years, and opened Hanabi last October.

He drives his suppliers mad, turning away not-up-to-scratch fish that no doubt find their way into some other sad restaurant display.

Then came the bill.

It’s hefty.

But it stands to reason.

Good fish and fine sake aren’t cheap.

Cheap sushi is an evil thing.

We’ve all experienced it – cadaverous fish on cold, dry pucks of fridge rice.

My only hope is that, like me, others want good Japanese food and are willing to support those making it.     

Because if not, the PN might turn Hanabi back into a każin.

And we certainly don’t need more of those.

Ivan Martin is the founder and CEO of Prss Wrks – They are a Strategic Communications and Public Relations Agency that partners with businesses, organisations, and individuals to evolve, protect, and enhance their brands, stories, and reputations.

Lovin Malta is open to interesting, compelling guest posts from third parties. These opinion pieces do not necessarily reflect the views of the company. Submit your piece at [email protected]