The Flavour of Time

Photos by George Scerri - Ministry Of Gozo

The baker grabs the balls of dough from the kneading bowl and throws them into a tray covered in white flour with surprising precision. Next to him, a woman kneels at the tray, shaping the soft dough into neat round balls, ready for baking in the oven. There is a sense of ancient ritual, as the two work together, silently and in synch. Around them, the bustling activity continues, the baker’s wife and sister pottering about their work, clients coming in from the cold afternoon outside asking for ftiras, the oven warm and ready.

Eventually the soft balls of dough are placed inside the oven where, warmed by the heat, they will swell and rise slowly, the soft dough filling out, the crust crackling gently. When they come out, the loaves are thick, deep and crusty, Maltese bread as it once was, intended to sustain and anchor you to earth, to get you through the cold winter days. Their scent fills the little bakery, warm and comforting, as the winter afternoon draws on.

Nestling in one of Nadur’s backstreets, it is easy to overlook Mekren’s Bakery, with its nondescript blue door, the only indication a sign swinging in the bitterly cold winter wind. Inside, if possible, it is even more unpretentious: one large room with shelves laden with crusty round loaves and slightly misshapen rolls, a few large trays and the bakery’s only machine at the centre of the room, used for kneading the bread dough. But the real focus stands quietly at the side, an old black oven, brooding silently, spreading waves of warmth inside the bakery, the kitchen’s beating heart, from which everything seems to emanate.

“That is probably the oldest oven in Gozo,” says Rita Portelli, looking at the grim black oven. “It is at least 200 years old.” The bakery, in fact, has been passed down through three generations and her husband, the baker Joey, was brought up in it. “It was first started by my husband’s grandfather,” she says, “Joey has been running it for 35 years now,” she says, as I look around at the modest room with its comforting warmth, rough surfaces and deep crusty loaves.

Time is allowed to run its course here: there is a sense of slow old-fashioned cooking as the flavours are matured and mellowed to perfection inside the old oven. And, like the bread which is left to rise slowly, acquiring depth and maturity, time has given a distinctive flavour to the modest bakery, matured slowly over three generations.

“Here we still do everything in the traditional manner, as our parents used to do it,” explains Rita. “The only changes we made were to conform to EU regulations – so this stainless steel table, for instance, used to be of wood.”

Besides bread, the bakery also makes traditional Gozitan ftiras – for which it is renowned – as well as pizzas. Fillings include tuna, anchovies, local gbejniet, tomatoes and a layer of crunchy potatoes, acting as a base, a characteristic of Gozitan ftiras.

Apart from the ftiras, the bakery also produces around 400 loaves a day, she says, and double the amount on Saturdays since the supply must then last through till Sunday. “We start at five in the morning and work till six in the evening,” explains Rita, “and on Saturdays we start at midnight because we have to make double the amount.” So the family – the baker, his wife and sister Nancy as well as a few other family members – bustle around the kitchen, preparing dough, shaping loaves, making fillings for ftiras and pizzas.

“We help each other all the time,” says Rita, “but only the boss can put the bread inside the oven,” she smiles, looking at her husband. “There is a big difference between bread like ours – which is made by hand – and bread made by large companies and baked in electric ovens,” she says. Bread must be allowed to rise slowly and, unless the process is allowed to take its time, then it becomes like production work, says Rita. And, with three generations behind her, she should know...