A late convert to Italian cuisine
Manzalino
People can be passionate about olive trees. I have always loved olives, but until I moved to Cyprus I felt no emotion about the trees that produce them, nor could I distinguish them from other trees. Now it’s easy, the oblong leaves are green on top and silver on the bottom, which makes for a heavenly image when swayed by the breeze. Whenever I see them now I feel a lightness of spirit.
However, if you’ve made the mistake, as I have, of biting into an olive plucked straight from the tree, you have wondered how humans ever thought they could domesticate such a bitter fruit. But they did finally, and I consider the development of the gustatory olive one of civilisation’s great achievements, right up there with the fermentation of grapes into wine and tobacco leaf into Havanas. I could live happily on olives, bread, cheese and wine for the rest of my life, with an occasional plate of quail or red snapper. But the tree itself holds a special place in the hearts of many. It has a unique, twisted beauty, and represents a life force that we associate with family love, ancient lyric poetry and, of course, peace.
Yiannis Panayiotou has had a lifelong love affair with the Cypriot manzalino olive and has named the Italian cuisine restaurant he runs with his wife Lisa, after that tree. There is a small manzalino, struggling to develop, at the place of pride in front of his fast-growing Amathusa establishment.
Unlike many Italian trattorias with their dark, almost lugubrious d?cor, pendulous nooses of garlic and straw-jacketed bottles of Chianti anchoring red-checked tablecloths, Manzalino has been designed with clean contemporary lines, glass, white wicker and polished steel. Yet somehow – perhaps due to the chorus of olive trees that graces the entire perimeter – there is a cozy feel to the place. Ninety percent of the dining area is outside, even at this chilly time of year as giant gas-flamed torches turn winter into spring.
“So how is the food?” you may well ask. Most of it is very good, and I had no idea walking in that I’d be eating Italian, a cuisine that, to be honest, has never made much of an impression on my palate. Even in New York’s Little Italy I wouldn’t cross the street for a plate of pasta.
This time, perusing the menu, I vowed to avoid the pasta altogether and adhere to only light fare. We ordered wine and appetiser and continued to study the principal entrees as we nibbled on bread daubed with weightless but tasty garlic butter or pesto paste. The wine was opened and poured with aplomb and authoritative precision. The antipasti of prosciuto and roca also featured black and green olives, basil, Parmesan shavings and something quite unusual, marinated grilled fennel bulb. The slim flanks of Parma ham in particular were of the finest quality and the entire dish, though airy and light was gastronomically edifying.
Time to decide on the main event. My wife, not a fan of heavy sauces, chose a dish that was, unfortunately, not very Roman – swordfish steak, with a side of plain, oil-tossed pasta. Feeling obliged to test the Italian culinary expertise of the chef, I at first considered the ricotta/spinach ravioli. However in the end, I opted for spicy Spaghetti Putanesca (whore’s pasta), a favorite among Mafiosi (“I want it fiery,” booms Don Corleone, “just like I want my horses – and my women!”). I could easily eschew the noodles, I reasoned, and concentrate on the sauce, the true test of cuccina Italiana.
The cut of swordfish was impressive in size, but I don’t believe it had spent much time in its marinate of olive oil, rosemary and basil. It wasn’t dry, which is the downfall of most swordfish grillings, but it wasn’t as succulent or flavoursome as it could have been.
The Putanesca, however, was a revelation. The chef’s precision melding of olives, tomatoes, capers, garlic, chili and anchovies created a deeply satisfying gustatory sensation. The plumy Ayios Ounofrios mavro was the perfect accompaniment to this sensually stimulating dish, the total effect of such combination being that a truly memorable dining moment was experienced.
And isn’t that what we seek when we venture into a restaurant whose prices can cause us to pre-calculate the total bill before ordering each item? If I’m willing to pay nearly six euros for a scoop of ice cream, I expect to be treated to something special and in an environment that pleases beyond the norm. Manzalino could do with some fine-tuning in the kitchen, some improvements on the background music, especially, but after just a few months in business it is well on its way to success.
VITAL STATISTICS
SPECIALTY Contemporary Italian
WHERE Sea Road, across from Elias Beach Hotel, Amathusa, Limassol
CONTACT 25 636466
PRICE Dinner for two with wine, 50 to 60 Euros
BOOKING Recommended for Friday and Saturday nights
