When the Qormi Bread Rose to Power: Malta’s Carbiest Coup

It was an average Tuesday in Qormi, or so the mass of dough rising quietly in Kevin the Baker’s oven thought. Outside, the streets whispered of siestas and the imminent heatwave promising to turn Malta into a temporary oven itself. Little did the townsfolk know, their afternoon naps would be kneaded into history in the yeast expected way.

The Loaf That Spoke to a Nation

As the bell tower of St. George’s Parish chimed three, Kevin pulled out the batch of what was meant to be ħobż biż-żejt’s humble vessels. But instead of the familiar scent of freshly baked bread, a peculiar zing wafted through the air. “Uwejja,” Kevin muttered, “that’s not right.” Lo and behold, his signature loaf had inflated to the size of a baby seal, blocking the entire doorway.

The Discovery: A Crusty Conundrum

Neighbouring Zarb the Fishmonger peeked in, eager to deliver his daily catch of lampuki. “Mela, what’s going on here?” he exclaimed, as his gaze met the monstrous loaf. Moments later, a crowd gathered, smartphones drawn like swords, ready to immortalize the Qormi bread that was too big for its britches—or oven.

The Rise of the Bread Baron

Ivana the Influencer, never missing a beat—or a chance to trend—tweeted a selfie with the caption: “Just met Malta’s biggest loaf #CarbGoals #QormiQuirks.” The tweet blew up faster than the dough had risen, and before long, news outlets were churning out puns about Malta’s latest and greatest attraction.

An Interview with a Yeasty Overlord

“As Malta stands in awe, we ask the loaf, how did you become so grand?”
To everyone’s shock, the bread pulsated and boomed, “I am the Bread Baron, knead before me!”

Audible gasps and dropped figolli echoed through the streets, for it was now clear: this was no ordinary baked good.

The Crumby Coup

With a newfound voice, the Bread Baron declared itself ruler of Qormi, and the citizens, bound by their love for pastizzi and ġbejniet, didn’t need much convincing. Chefs scrambled to create tributes; dishes like “Bread Baron’s Stuffed Belly” (a riff on rabbit stew) and “Baron’s Crusty Catch” (lampuki wrapped in dough) became overnight sensations.

The Mdina Marvel

But a loaf so power-hungry wasn’t about to stop at a single town. With sights set on Mdina, the ancient Silent City, the Bread Baron rolled forth on a path of floury domination. Tourism boards scrambled to adjust their maps and brochures, predicting the loaf’s next destination. Would it be the Azure Window’s remains? Or perhaps the Megalithic Temples?

Gozo’s Unconventional Hero

Concerned, Gozo’s own folks concocted a plan involving ħelwa tat-Tork and a gargantuan size mousetrap. It was Carmela the Cunning, a Gozitan granny known for her sharp tongue and sharper knitting needles, who beckoned the loaf across the channel with a trail of ftira and promises of glutenous glory.

The Showdown at Dwejra

At the cliffs where the Azure Window once reigned, Carmela revealed her ruse, provoking the bread into an unleavened rage. But before the Baron could claim its crumby victory, Carmela’s trap snapped shut, and the bread, along with its ego, was sliced right back down to size.

The Aftermath: A Digestible Democracy

In the aftermath, Malta returned to its sovereign state, now a little wiser and much more wary of overproofed pastries. The Bread Baron’s remains were distributed among the eager populace, ensuring everyone had a slice of history. As for Carmela? She shrugged off the adulation, adjusted her għonnella, and muttered, “Kollox sew, as long as I have my tea nice and hot.”

The Lessons Learned

The Maltese learned to appreciate the smaller slices in life. Kevin the Baker began to harbor aspirations of yeast whispering, and Zarb the Fishmonger never looked at a loaf the same way.

And so, with a dash of whimsy and a sprinkle of satire, ‘Times of Mela’ kneads out another tale from the oven of our beloved Malta. May your bellies be full, your bread always rise to the occasion, and your islands never be too smitten with their wheaty wonders.