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Everywhere you drive in Malta, the road is lined with prickly pears, bulbous spiky cacti that look like a warning. The Maltese harvest them and turn these thorny flora into bajtra, a bitter-sweet liqueur served over ice or drizzled on ice cream.
Like the process of turning cacti into cocktails, Malta has a hard-won beauty. This is a country forged by the swords of the Knights Hospitaller – monks turned warriors – who defeated an Ottoman invasion in the 16th century. This small country, enviably placed just below Sicily in the Mediterranean, has seen off pirates, pillagers, conquerors and colonisers to emerge as one of the most interesting destinations in Europe.
In the capital of Valletta, you’ll find battle-scarred sandstone buildings, extravagant fortifications and the grandiose St John’s Co-Cathedral, where you walk upon marble-carved skeletons and skulls — memento mori of a life warding off seaborne threats. But within the city’s daunting walls lie secret gardens, ornate statues and hidden stairways where locals play cards and chat over a glass of Kinnie, the local soft drink. Come summer, each village erupts with a “feast” — a lively calendar of religious street parties.
Everywhere you look, the country has turned its prickly pears into sweet nectar.
Bajtra and the Maltese Falcon
I get my first taste of bajtra as part of The Maltese Falcon — the national cocktail of Malta — created by James Aquilina at The Confession, a bar and restaurant in Rabat. James serves his patriotic concoction of vodka, bajtra, prickly pear syrup, orange juice and Kinnie in ready-to-walk plastic cups from his hole-in-the-wall diner with a carved sandstone angel above the doorway.
It’s the perfect end to a walking tour of Mdina, a fortified city in the west of the island, where you cross a raised bridge through what was once a heavily armed gate. Now, the biggest danger is being run over by one of the horse-and-cart tours that ply their trade around this living museum.
Mdina is the old capital of Malta but now home to just a few hundred people — descendants of once-dominant northern families hidden behind imposing doors with large carved knockers. It’s also home to the “last nun of Mdina,” and as we pass the monastery, we’re told there’s just a single member left, now recruiting globally to keep the Mdina order alive.
The creamy-white Globigerina limestone gives the streets a golden glow under the Mediterranean sun. We stroll past dungeons, the museum of natural history, and statues of St Paul — the patron saint of Malta, who the Bible says was shipwrecked here. Consequently, on this trip I’ve never met so many Pauls since primary school in the 1970s.
Pastizzi and Local Flavours
Beyond the city walls in Rabat, we dine at Is-Serkin, or the Crystal Palace Tea and Coffee Bar — a pastizzerija serving Malta’s famous baked goods. Scoring a rare table among the chaos — Is-Serkin is open permanently and packed often — we devour pea, ricotta and anchovy pastizzi, wrapped in fabulously flaky pastry. The crumbs fall freely around us, a sight dotted across the island that I come to think of as “Maltese snow.”
Everywhere you drive in Malta, the road is lined with prickly pears — bulbous spiky cacti that look like a warning. The Maltese harvest them and turn the thorny flora into bajtra, a bittersweet liqueur served over ice or drizzled on ice cream.
Where to Stay
Westin Dragonara Resort
Located on its own peninsula and surrounded by the waves of the Mediterranean, this big, family-friendly resort has 413 rooms and is just a short walk from the bustling restaurants and nightlife of St. Julians. You can also stroll along the coast to the nearby superyacht harbour and shopping mall.
Kempinski Hotel San Lawrenz Gozo Malta
It feels like it’s constantly sunny at the Kempinski in Gozo thanks to the yellow sandstone throughout the property and reflected in the bright tones of the common areas. Fine diner L-Istorja offers a traditional steakhouse menu, while Il-Baldakkin is a great place to soak up the sun while dining on the terrace.
Blast from the Pastizzi
Arriving at Ta’ Betta Winery for lunch in the Siggiewi region, owned by Astrid and Juanito Cammilleri, the first thing you notice is how far apart the vines are planted. This is deliberate — designed to combat the Maltese heat and allow cool mistral winds to circulate between the rows.
The Cammilleris originally purchased the rustic farmhouse in 2002 as a family home, but a Sicilian winemaker convinced them the land had a “natural gift” for wine. He was right — the winery now produces stunning vintages from the hot, rocky terrain. Maltese wine is exceptional and made in such small quantities there’s none left for export — to taste it, you must come here yourself.
We’re led to a grove of olive trees for a tasting of Ta’ Betta’s wines, named for the Grand Masters of the Order of Malta. The chardonnay, named for Jean Parisot de Valette — the 49th Grand Master who defeated the Ottomans — has notes of pineapple and a fabulous salinity. The robust red blend of syrah and cabernet franc, named for Phillipe Villiers, honours his strength and boldness with its own.
Dining Highlights
From crusty handheld delights to Michelin-recommended restaurants, Malta’s cuisine is a treat. At Root 81, chef Robert Cassar cooks and attends to tables himself at this intimate diner on a hilly stairway in Rabat. The name comes from the historic 81 bus route linking this hilltop spot to Valletta, and the menu features creative spins such as grouper lasagne and black cuttlefish risotto.
Chef Robert’s annual signature cocktails include the 2024 “Royal Dirty Martini” — gin infused with thyme, Kalamata olives and a hint of Benedictine. It tastes like the view from Root 81: Mediterranean herbs, trees, and prickly pears alongside monasteries and churches cascading into the Verdala Valley below.
In Valletta, I sip a gin and tonic with fresh thyme at Tico-Tico Bar, down more pastizzi, and wander through street markets stacked with crates of local produce and bottles of Cisk lager. Though out of season for the famous village feasts, it’s easy to imagine that everyone eats well here.
Good to Gozo
The lights of moored boats twinkle in the squid-ink-black Mgarr Harbour in Gozo — and so does the eye of my bartender as he hands me a local negroni with a dash of Kinnie. Gleneagles Bar, perched above the harbour with a balcony and a huge marlin over its door, has been run by brothers Tommy and Sammy for 50 years.
The bar’s walls are hung with fishing nets, crustaceans and black-and-white photos — Gleneagles standing sentry through time, first built in 1732 by the Knights of St John as a barracks. After a few “kinniegronis,” the brothers show us more photos before we part ways.
My night at Gleneagles caps off a few days exploring Gozo, Malta’s more chilled island sibling. The Kempinski Hotel San Lawrenz Gozo Malta is my base — a warm sandstone hideaway arranged around a huge palm-fringed pool.
Gozitans refer to Malta as “the mainland” despite being just 20 minutes away by ferry. The pace here is noticeably more languid. A walking tour of the Cittadella — Gozo’s ancient walled city — is quiet and full of artisans selling handwoven bracelets and Maltese bizilla (lace). San Lawrenz Harbour, with its rainbow-painted boathouse doors, offers boat hire through rocky archways and azure seas, far from the crowds of the Blue Grotto.
At the nearly empty Xwenji salt pans, carved into the coastal rock like a giant chequerboard, we pause before lunch at L’Aragosta — a seaside restaurant in Zebbug marina. At a gingham-clothed table, we order calamari simply grilled with Xwenji salt and cold local chardonnay.
On the way back to the Kempinski, we stop at Ta’Dbiegi crafts village in Gharb, where I find a stall selling bottles of bajtra. Though I’m not usually one for souvenirs, I grab one — a reminder that in Malta, a country proudly defined by its battles, beauty is everywhere, even in the spiky roadside weeds.
This feature was originally published in Issue 10 of Dream by Luxury Escapes.
