The Irish Rover

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Our little 'locals' restaurant turned out to be full of gringos and doing a roaring trade.  Wherever we go we hear English spoken....sometimes by Brits but also by visitors from other countries who have to resort to God's own language to make themselves understood.  The Irish are well represented and yesterday they were out in force, easily identified by an impressive array of stupid green leprechaun hats and associated St Patrick's day paraphernalia (and a complete absence of suntan obviously). 

The meal was simple but tasty and inexpensive and we are considering returning for a Paella before we leave.  This is a dish of such fiendish complexity that they require 12 hours notice to prepare it.  I have cooked a paella before and it IS a bit time consuming....but 12 hours?

The promised overnight rain was nothing more than a couple of very light showers but the forecast insisted it wouldn't be properly over until noon, so we hunkered down and marked time for most of the morning.  We drive inland from Torre del Mar for a shortish but lovely ride around a large reservoir.  The climbs were age-appropriate, the weather was perfect and the views were exceptional....probably my favourite ride so far (also the shortest but I promise these two facts are not connected).  

Tonight we have added 2 exciting elements to our evening rituals: a tub of tasty ice-cream and.... drum roll....a BOTTLE OF PORT.  The procurement if the port involved considerably more effort and expense than was ideal.  I don't know if it is some sort of Iberian rivalry  thing but I now know that Spanish supermarkets hide Port to make it as hard to buy as they possibly can. A shabby foreign trick!



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