If someone in Malta tells you they have started preparing for Christmas, you might imagine a tree being assembled, a shopping list growing longer, or a kitchen gradually disappearing beneath ingredients. What you probably would not picture is a dish of seeds tucked inside a dark cupboard, quietly becoming part of the decorations.
Yet that is exactly where one of Malta’s most distinctive Christmas customs begins.
Known as ġulbiena, these long, pale shoots are grown in the weeks before Christmas and arranged around nativity scenes, beside figures of the infant Jesus, on windowsills, and in churches. To someone encountering them for the first time, they can look rather curious: a soft tangle of cream coloured stems, somewhere between delicate grass and an extravagant arrangement of noodles.
For those who grew up with them, however, they can be as recognisably festive as the decorations being unpacked in the next room. What makes ġulbiena particularly interesting is that the appearance people want depends on keeping the plants away from sunlight. Instead of encouraging a healthy green display on a bright windowsill, growers place the seeds somewhere dark, allowing them to produce the elongated, pale shoots associated with the tradition.
The cupboard is not where the decoration is stored. It is where it is made.
The decoration you have to wait for
The familiar method begins with vetch seeds, which are soaked before being spread over a damp base, often cotton wool, in a shallow container. The dish is then placed in darkness and kept moist while the shoots develop. Some households use other seeds or grains, so the exact appearance and method can vary.
There is no single timetable followed by everyone. Some accounts describe preparations beginning several weeks before Christmas, while a Maltese seed supplier identifies 7 December as a customary sowing date. The difference is a useful reminder that this is a household tradition rather than a process governed by one official recipe.
Ask two people how their family grows, ġulbiena, and you may receive two slightly different answers, both delivered with complete confidence.
That is part of the pleasure. The knowledge is practical, often remembered through somebody else: which dish to use, where to leave it, and how often to check that it has not dried out. Compared with decorations that emerge fully formed from a box, ġulbiena makes preparation visible. There is something to watch, something to tend and, occasionally, something to worry about.
For children, the transformation offers its own fascination. A handful of seeds disappears into a dark corner and gradually becomes a decoration that will take its place in the family’s Christmas display. The result matters, but so does the anticipation.
By the time the dish is brought out, Christmas has been growing in the house for days.
Why it belongs beside the crib
To understand where ġulbiena fits into a Maltese Christmas, it helps to look beyond the Christmas tree and towards the presepju, the nativity crib.
Nativity scenes occupy an important place in the islands’ festive traditions, appearing in homes and churches as well as in public displays. Around the figures and miniature landscapes, ġulbiena introduces something living, its pale shoots contrasting with the scene’s darker colours and the figure of the infant Jesus.
It is a modest material used to create a surprisingly distinctive effect. You do not need a grand arrangement to understand its appeal; even a small dish beside a treasured figure can give the display a character that feels particular to the household. The darkness also lends itself to a religious reading. The shoots reaching towards light are sometimes understood as a Christian metaphor, connecting their growth with the spiritual meaning of Christmas. It is an evocative interpretation, although it should not be mistaken for a firmly established account of how the custom began.
The origins are less certain than the symbolism might suggest.
Published accounts propose possible links with older Mediterranean seed growing customs, including traditions associated with the gardens of Adonis and practices in Italy and Sicily. Those connections are intriguing, but the precise route by which ġulbiena became part of Maltese Christmas remains unclear.
There is no need to force a tidy origin story onto a tradition whose strongest evidence is its continuing presence in people’s homes. Sometimes, what survives most clearly is not the explanation, but the act itself.
Somebody soaks the seeds because they remember doing it before. Somebody else learns by helping.
A different way to notice Christmas in Malta
For visitors, ġulbiena offers an introduction to a side of the festive season that can be easy to miss.
Street lights and elaborate shop windows announce themselves. A dish of pale shoots beside a nativity figure asks for a closer look. Once you recognise it, you begin noticing how much of Christmas is made up of small, repeated gestures rather than headline attractions.
If you are visiting Malta or Gozo during the season, look for ġulbiena in church displays and nativity scenes open to the public. Where appropriate, ask someone about it. A simple question about a decoration may lead to a much more personal account of Christmas than a list of events ever could.
The same is true of other local customs. A parish’s carefully prepared child’s Christmas sermon, for example, reveals a celebration shaped by participation as much as by spectacle. These are occasions when families and communities don't simply attend Christmas; they help make it happen.
That is what makes ġulbiena such an appealing place to begin. It is accessible, a little unexpected, and rooted in the ordinary spaces of a home. Its materials are simple, but you can't rush it into existence on Christmas Eve.
Someone has to remember it beforehand.
Perhaps that is why this small tradition deserves attention alongside the brighter decorations. It gives the season a different kind of countdown, measured not in shopping days or calendar windows, but in the slow progress of something being cared for. When the dish finally takes its place beside the crib, it brings those weeks of preparation with it. Before the lights were switched on and the visitors arrived, somebody was already making Christmas, checking on a little patch of pale shoots behind a cupboard door.
