Writing from Malta about the good, the bad, the quirky and the downright sublime moments of life on a small island.

Tuesday, 20 February 2018

Kitchen tales: Cranberry orange cookies

When it comes to desserts, my husband and I are complete opposites: he likes to have fruit in his while I am of the opinion that it’s not worth the calories unless there’s chocolate in it. So when I came across a recipe for Cranberry Orange Cookies from Fake Ginger I knew I had to make them for him.

These Cranberry Orange Cookies are so easy to put together that they are perfect for making with kids or grandkids. They are a great combination of sweetness from the cranberries with a zingy undertone from the orange peel. They were a hit the first time I made them and had to make them twice after that. The great thing about them is that they keep for up to ten days (less if the weather is hot) and are perfect for Christmas (although it’s a bit too early to start thinking about that). In reality, they can be enjoyed at any time of the year. They are a softer type of cookie but since the cookie dough is rolled in a mixture of sugar and orange zest before baking, they have a slight crunch but are definitely not a hard type of cookie. I would define them as soft and crunchy.

Orange cranberry cookies

Cranberry  Orange Cookie Recipe


For the cookies:

3/4 cup butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 egg

2 cups flour

1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 cup dried cranberries, finely chopped

1 tablespoon orange zest

For the rolling sugar:

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon orange zest


  1. Preheat oven to 350F.
  2. Using an electric mixer, mix butter and 1 cup sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg and combine.
  3. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and baking soda. Add to butter mixture and mix until just combined. Fold in cranberries and 1 tablespoon orange zest. Chill dough while you make orange sugar. I chilled it for about 2 hours as this hardens the dough sufficiently to make it more manageable to roll into balls but if you’re in a hurry, chilling it for a lesser amount of time will still work. You’ll just get more cookie dough stuck to your hands.
  4. To make the orange sugar, combine 1/2 cup sugar and 1 tablespoon orange zest. Use your fingers to rub the 2 together until everything is combined and mixture is fragrant.
  5. Shape chilled dough into 1 inch balls and roll them in orange sugar. Place on a baking sheet and flatten slightly.
  6. Bake 10 - 13 minutes or until lightly golden. Cool on wire racks.

Orange cranberry cookies

If you try them, let me know how they turn out. I promise they will only take a few minutes to make – it’s the rolling in sugar that takes a bit longer but don’t skip this step because it really gives the cookies their very particular citrusy taste. If you have fruit fans in your house, these will definitely be a success and I have to admit that even this chocoholic was hooked on them after a couple of bites.

Tuesday, 13 February 2018

Valletta: Five more quirky facts

As promised last month, I am back with 5 more quirky facts about Valletta. If you missed the first five, you  may find them here.

Quirky fact number 6: It has a street that used to be known as ‘The Gut’

‘The Gut’ is a nickname given by British servicemen to Strait Street (Strada Stretta). At not more than 4 metres wide, Strait Street is the narrowest street in Valletta and is said to have been built so narrow so that a part of it would be in the shade at all times. During the British era, Strait Street gained notoriety as bars, dance halls and brothels sprouted next to each other and brawls, prostitution and drunkenness were the order of the day (and night).


The street was so mired in sleaze and seediness that visiting servicemen nicknamed it ‘The Gut’. The name stuck for many years until societal changes and the departure of the British forces forced it into natural decline. By the mid-1980s ‘The Gut’ became the haunt of stray cats that made their home in the abandoned, crumbling buildings. Strait Street remained in this sad state for many years but is slowly being rehabilitated and is now, once again, becoming a thriving part of Valletta – minus the notoriety.

Valletta (81)

Valletta (78)

Quirky fact number 7: The Maltese never call it by its name

When speaking in Maltese, Valletta is never called by its name but is known as il-Belt. ‘Belt’ is the Maltese word for town or city and Valletta seems to have captured the national imagination to the point that, over 450 years after its foundation stone was laid, we still call it ‘the city’. So in Maltese, we never go to Valletta but always go to il-Belt.

Quirky fact number 8: No river runs through it but one street is spanned by several bridges

In the area behind Victoria Gate, several iron foot-bridges cross East Street. This is one of the lowest points of Valletta and also one of the most photographed as the buildings built on the higher ground tower above the street. The bridges act as elevated pedestrian walkways that allow easy access from one side of Valletta to another without having to walk down to street level and all the way up to the other side.

Valletta (25)

Valletta on Victory Day (2)

Quirky fact number 9: Napoleon stopped for a short stay

After Malta, or rather the Knights of St John led by German Grand Master Ferdinand von Hompesch, capitulated to the French, Napoleon landed on the island on June 13, 1798. He stayed at Palazzo Parisio in Merchants’ Street for 6 days before continuing southward to proceed with his conquest of Egypt. During his short stay he emptied the Maltese treasury and, it is said, his soldiers also helped themselves to gold and silver objects from some of the churches.

Quirky fact number 10: it had some strict building regulations

The Knights wanted to ensure that Malta’s new city would be both modern and visually appealing. So they came up with a number of regulations that anyone building an edifice in Valletta had to follow. For example, all houses had to have at least one water cistern or reservoir to collect rain water; stone for all the buildings had to be obtained from a specific area known as the Manderaggio; street corners had to be decorated – usually with sculptures of saints.



Furthermore, unlike most European cities of the time, each house and palace in Valletta had a sanitation pit that was connected to a sewer system. This complex network of pits and tunnels still survives underneath Valletta’s streets and has given rise to a number of legends, the most common one being that they served as an escape route. I suppose it’s feasible but it would have been rather stinky and messy.

I hope you have enjoyed these ten quirky facts about Valletta. It amazes me that it is so small but has such a variegated history. It is for this reason, coupled with a concentration of 320 monuments packs into its Lilliputian area, that UNESCO declared it a World Heritage Site in 1980.

Monday, 5 February 2018

Book Talk: Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay

Sarah’s Key recounts the story of Sarah Starzinsky, a Jewish girl living in Paris with her parents and younger brother during the war. In every other chapter in the first half of the book the story takes us to Paris in 2002, where we follow along as American journalist Julia Jarmond researches the notorious Vel d’Hiv roundups in the run-up to the 60th anniversary commemoration of the event. The Vel d’Hiv arrests had been swept under the carpet by all the French governments since the war, until Jacques Chirac publicly addressed this black mark on France’s history in 1995 (full speech here).

Eventually we find out that the link between Sarah and Julia is an apartment on rue de Saintogne, in the Marais quarter of Paris, and the horrific events that took place there in the summer of 1942.

Sarah’s Key, like most books, has its flaws but it’s not my intention to be an armchair critic as the aim of this article is not to dissect its style and content. If I have one complaint it is that I wish Sarah’s character, and the harrowing experiences she was subjected to at such a tender age, could have been developed better by providing a bit more insight into the psychological trauma that she was going through.

So even if the plot is rather predictable at times and the ending a bit of an anti-climax, the book has one major redeeming factor: the Vel d’Hiv round-up of 13000 Jews and their subsequent incarceration at Beaune-la-Rolande, Drancy and Pithiviers, and the inhuman separation of all children under 12 years of age from their parents, who were then loaded onto cattle trains and sent directly to the gas chambers at Auschwitz, are well researched and bring to light a dark episode in the history of France that was considered taboo for over 50 years. The bottom line is that it was the French police, acting on the orders of the Nazis and the collaborating Vichy government, who rounded up the Jews; and it was the ordinary French people (concierges, teachers and so on) who betrayed them. As such, this book was an eye-opener because I, for one, had never heard about the Vel d’Hiv arrests or about the active part played by the French. Now, I want to know more.

So would I recommend Sarah’s Key? A most definite yes because, in spite of its flaws, it is a moving, heart-wrenching novel and it did the job its author wanted it to do: Zakhor. Al Tichkah. Remember. Never forget. For this alone, it is definitely worth a read.

Loree’s rating:  ★★★☆☆

Monday, 29 January 2018

Malta off the beaten trail: Fomm ir-Rih

Most people translate Fomm ir-Rih to ‘the mouth of the wind’. The translation is grammatically correct (fomm is mouth and rih is wind in Maltese) but I think it’s one of those names that cannot be translated literally as it loses its true meaning. So I would prefer to change the translation to ‘the breath of the wind’. You only need to visit this secluded bay to see why – a breeze always seems to be blowing here - even during the worst of the dog days of summer. Fomm ir-Rih (4)

Fomm ir-Rih (7)Fomm ir-Rih (9)

A GPS will take you everywhere these days, but don’t look for any road signs to Fomm ir-Rih because you won’t find any and it’s easy to miss the narrow road that will take you to this secluded bay. But once you do find it, it’s an easy, if in places winding, walk or drive to the beach head where you can stop to enjoy the view.

Fomm ir-Rih (20)

Or you can be a bit more adventurous and trek all the way down to the bay. Negotiating the path is not too bad in most places but once you’ve made it all the way down to the bottom, you do have to scramble and climb over some jagged rocks for the last few metres. Once that small ordeal is over, you can find a comfortable spot on the pebbly beach and enjoy the isolation – unless it’s summer, because during the peak months boats and yachts will anchor in the bay and spoil the serenity somewhat; but even in summer you can rest assured that there will be no crowds. During all the other months though, it’s pretty much you, yourself, your companions and the view.

Fomm ir-Rih (1)Fomm ir-Rih (3)Fomm ir-Rih (4)Fomm ir-Rih (8)

There are two things that never change at Fomm ir-Rih: the bright turquoise of the sea on a sunny day and the clattering sound of the pebbles each time a wave rolls in. It’s strangely soothing – like a baby’s giant rattle. What you decide to do when you’re at the water’s edge is entirely up to you. I usually like to sit back and relax for a while, listening to the roll of the waves and the rattling of the pebbles.

Fomm ir-Rih (11)

Then I like to take a good look around me and take it all in. I am no geologist – my only brush with the subject came many years ago when I was still at school – but even I cannot help but notice the rock formations: the cliffs rising sharply and perpendicularly out of the sea, the syncline in the hills behind the bay, the contrast of soft, yellow globigerina limestone with the vegetation and the haphazard deposits of blue clay carved into the most unusual shapes by the wind and the constant movement of the sea.

Fomm ir-Rih (17)

The landscape at Fomm ir-Rih is a bit wild, in an underrated sort of way, and wonderfully unspoilt. The slopes surrounding the bay, and the headland above it, give life to many pretty wildflowers, some of which are so small and delicate that it is easy to miss them among the rocks and the more exuberant flowering species.

Fomm ir-Rih (21)

It is definitely off the beaten trail and the bay is not particularly easy to get to, which is what has preserved its isolation and its unique character. It is a place that is constantly battered by the waves that continually carve and change its landscape; a magnificent gift that Nature has bestowed on us and one that I hope we will preserve in its current pristine condition for future generations. They, and Fomm ir-Rih itself, deserve no less.

Location: Fomm ir-Rih, March 2017

All images ©Sincerely, Loree

Monday, 22 January 2018

The art of slow living

Over the past few years, the internet has been inundated with articles and websites dedicated to the art of slow living. Slow living is described as

“a lifestyle emphasizing slower approaches to everyday life”.

It is a way of life being adopted by many people as a counter-response to all the technology that surrounds us. I’ll be honest that I have grown so accustomed to clicking a few buttons and getting an answer, connecting with people without actually meeting them, looking at the 1000 best images of the Taj Mahal or the Great Barrier Reef or whatever, that I am starting to lose one important human trait: patience (and mine was already in short supply). If an app or a website takes a few milliseconds longer than usual to load, then frustration takes over almost immediately. It is quite frightening to what extent we are relying on technology of one type or another.

Gnejna Bay

The ability to wait, the excitement that comes with anticipation, the capacity to try and try again, are being lost in favour of instant gratification. We want answers now. We must be constantly efficient. We surround ourselves with all sorts of gadgets and gizmos to make sure everything is done faster, and more faster still. Yet in spite of everything, we still never seem to have enough time. Although technology has made the world feel smaller and helped us connect more, the sad truth is that it is still a lonely place for many.

Admittedly, slow living is not for everyone. It requires a change not only in lifestyle but in an individual’s mind-set. Initially it will not be easy, but I am determined to give slow living a try, and winter is probably the best time to start some new habits.

Gnejna Bay

My slow living goals:

  • read more books – this one’s an easy fix.
  • spend as little time as possible on social media sites like Facebook.
  • turn off my mobile as soon as I get home – anybody that really wants to talk to me has my landline number.
  • cook less food that comes in packages – this is one of the difficult ones for me because I am an indifferent cook and time for cooking meals is always limited.
  • buy more food produced locally – again, this may not be as easy as it seems since our climate is what it is and not everything can be grown under the harsh Mediterranean sun.
  • stop to smell, and appreciate the beauty of, flowers – whether they are cultivated or wild.
  • sit by the sea more often – the sea is one of the loves of my life and living on an island should make this goal easy to achieve. It is also one of the most relaxing things to do in the world to just sit and hear the sea sigh and gurgle and roar, depending on its volatile mood.
  • write letters and send postcards – I’ve written about the lost art of letter writing before. The trick is to find like-minded individuals to share notes and letters with.
  • use the car less and walk more – I am already on track with this. Parking spaces in our town centres are  notoriously difficult to find so I often park and walk, getting several errands done in one run.
  • take less pictures and learn to stop, think and compose them better – with digital photography we can take hundreds of mediocre photos because we know we don’t have to print them out. I find it doesn’t always help us develop our photography skills.
  • put away the digital camera and pick up the analogue one. Some may find it hard to understand but nothing quite beats the anticipation of waiting for a roll of film to be printed. Trust me on this one.
  • listen to a CD from beginning to end as opposed to flitting from one song to another on Spotify and YouTube.
  • waste less, recycle more and get rid of anything that I don’t need.
  • connect with real people, meet up with old friends and have a chat over a coffee.

It’s quite a list but it’s good to set myself some goals. Listing them here might actually help me make sure I stick to them.

Gnejna Bay

A part of the slow living concept is the slow food movement that started in Italy in 1989 (why am I not surprised?) and my decision to do something about the chaotic lifestyle that we lead has been inspired by Naomi Bulger of the blog Naomi Loves, a passionate advocate of slow living; and a book I recently finished reading: An Italian Journey by James Ernest Shaw, in which the author writes with a great deal of fervour about the Tuscan way of life, about the many families that are once again farming the land using traditional methods, cooking with produce grown in the region or on neighbouring farms, and lingering over their meals.

Gnejna Bay

Lingering. It almost sounds like an alien, if beautiful, word. When was the last time I have lingered over anything? I can’t remember. So I think it’s time. To linger. To breathe. To slow down a notch. To live, actually.

All images © Sincerely, Loree

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...