Ah Reine Sammut !
An intimate portrait by his daughter, Julia
It's not so easy to tell. She's mysterious. She doesn't say much. But her big smile says a lot about what she's up to. She has the power of the kitchen. The magical power to change the mood of those she cooks for. To make people happy. To bring people together. To enchant.
At her table, she doesn't reveal anything, doesn't announce the menu, doesn't comment or boast... then she serves the plates and furtively observes the guests. I say furtively because I can see her doing it. And then, at that very moment, she brings us to our knees. So much precision and accuracy, so much gourmet history, so many memories of tastes, so much culinary culture. Anchovies bought in the morning, filleted and served with olive oil and vinegar. That's all there is to it. What do you mean, that's all ? You've got to be kidding me ! A Sunday evening peasant soup. Full of spring vegetables. And bits of bacon from his native origins in places. Just for taste. For character.
Pasta alla poutargue. With some of the bottarga mixed with olive oil to make a sauce that coats all the spaghetti. My God, is this sensible ?
Reine's cooking is no invention. Reine's cooking weighs heavily on meticulous work, research, knowledge, learned gestures, gleaned recipes, listened-to cooking stories. It has the weight of comfort and truth. She has the elegance of rhythm and harmony. Reine's cuisine is reaching out.
Julia Sammut