RDA+

I’ve just had a very pleasant meal in a little restaurant down in the Ribeira area of Porto, overlooking the Douro and the Port houses in Gaia.

One thing struck me though about the food, and it’s something I’ve noticed before in Lisbon (but only one or twice and not to this extent), was the slight addition of salt to the cooking.

Actually, slight is a bit of an understatement. When it came to the vegetables the main flavour was salt with the hint of vegetable matter underneath.

The Salmon was again very nice, but the skin had been pretty much encased in salt which had then leached into the fish.

Not that I’m complaining, the food was very nice, very well presented and exceptionally good value. It’s just a little concerning that I’m probably getting my weekly allocation of salt in one hit, it can’t be that good for you.

Going out on a whim

I normally plan my trips away quite carefully.

Researching where to go, looking at various accommodation options, making sure I’m getting the best deal.

So I took myself by surprise this afternoon when on the spur of the moment I booked a holiday in Shropshire.

To be fair, I’ve wanted to go to Ironbridge for some time, and with everything being closed because of the weather it really did require me to come back.

The winning factor though, was the stunning food in the pub I had lunch in.

They had rooms, they had rooms free when I wanted to stay, I think that counts as fate dictating the decision.

At 2pm I’d had a brief look around the town. At 3pm I’d booked a holiday there.

Probably best if I don’t make a habit of this.

What a difference a day makes....

...24 little hours. At 20:30 last night I was walking along the edge of the Piazza San Carlo trying to avoid getting soaked looking at a completely empty square.

Tonight, with the last of the evening sun having faded away, but the warmth still in the air, the square was heaving, with lots of people sitting at the cafe’s and restaurants, including me at a particularly pleasant (if slightly expensive) restaurant at the southern end.

This feels much more like Italy!

A world of Pork

It’s been a few months since I was last in Germany.

This is probably for the good, as I have a tendency to over-do-it a bit when I hit Germany.

I don’t know what it is about the place that makes me crave pork.

It’s not my favourite of meats (it ranks slightly above lamb, and a long way behind both beef and poultry), yet stick it in a sausage, smother it with Senf (and it has to be proper German Senf, no other type of mustard works) and sell it from a small counter in a dubious corner of a train station and I can’t get enough.

There have even been occasions when I’ve only eaten pork, or pork related products for days at a time.

Needless to say, a diet this poor invariably leads to issues with “regularity”. I certainly know that a couple of years ago after visiting Germany twice in about five weeks I managed to give myself some real problems for a couple of weeks after.

But, will I learn from previous problems, or will I be hunting out the nearest Wurst stall with the urgency of a junky.

It helps to remembers yesterdays dinner

Last night I had a very nice meal in a little restaurant off of the main shopping street. Along with a particularly pleasant white Rioja and a very nice mint consommé I had the “Black Paella”. Black Paella is made using squid (or in this case Cuttlefish) ink to turn the rice black, in with the rice is diced seafood.

But, crude as this may sound, everything that you put into the system, usually within 24 hours, makes its way back out again, and when you have forgotten what you had for dinner the previous evening the outcome looks as thought you are seriously ill. It took me a worrying few minutes to work out that there wasn’t something horrifically wrong with me, just the Paella making a re-appearance.