Guts & Glory, Amsterdam

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In the five months since I returned to once again live in Holland, I have had to do something I hate doing. I have had to acknowledge that I was wrong. The blow has been softened by the fact that I have been proved wrong in a very enjoyable way. Last year, I wrote about the shortage of good, casual restaurants in Amsterdam. I was so very wrong. Over the past few months, I have eaten some of the best meals I can remember, in different restaurants across Amsterdam. I have tried Australian small plates, Dutch tasting menus, Michelin-starred street food, Israeli seafood, and plenty of things besides. And it has all been wonderful.

Most recently, I visited Guts & Glory, on the dodgier end of Utrechtsetraat. Located on a strip of coffee shops, seedy bars, and hipster fast food, it’s an unlikely location for such glorious cooking. The restaurant works with a theme, changing every few months, and develops a set menu around it. The last theme was Japan, the current theme is Spain, and the next is rumoured to be Thailand. They have also created menus revolving entirely around one ingredient. Taking chefs out of their comfort zone, to create quintessential dishes from different countries is an interesting idea, and one that could go very wrong. Here, it just works.

 

IMG-20170809-WA0002I’m not an expert on Spanish food, but it was great to see so many classic dishes brought to life in new ways. We went for the pre-theatre four course menu, on a Monday night after a weekend of heavy eating. The sun was glimmering, so we braved the breeze for a table on the street. The meal started with a plate of pan con tomate. Light crispy bread rubbed with garlic, topped with chunks of tomato and drizzled in olive oil. It’s a simple dish, but one that requires excellent ingredients. Here the tomatoes were fresh and sweet, the bread was light, and the olive oil grassy. We moved on to an amuse (still not hitting our first actual course) of watermelon gazpacho, a miniature jamon croquette, and olive stuffed with jalapeno cream cheese and topped with crispy chorizo crumbs. My recreations of this gazpacho have since become a weekly event in my house.

Our first actual course was corvina marinated in sherry in an ajo blanco sauce with slices of fresh grape on top. Corvina is the fish of the moment in Amsterdam, and this was a beautiful way to serve it. The sherry slightly cured the white meat and gave bite, which was balanced by the creamy almond sauce, and the sweetness of the grapes. Sadly, I did not get a picture of this dish but it was lovely.

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The next course was a riff on paella, a simple tomato rice with chorizo oil, blow-torched at the last minute to crisp on top and served with three plump mussels. After that came a rump of Dorset lamb with romesco sauce and goats curd. I don’t eat meat regularly, and I sometimes think I could probably give it up entirely. This was the kind of lamb that shatters those illusions. Perfectly pink, soft and with just the right amount of fat to keep it juicy. We moved on to a pre-dessert of crema catalana flavoured with orange blossom and a truly incredible dessert of fresh churros coated in fennel seeds and sugar, chocolate sorbet and a liquorice caramel sauce.

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Guts & Glory also manages that rare combination of great food and excellent customer service. Our waitress let my dad try several wines when he couldn’t decide which he wanted from the list. She kept a good eye on everything that was happening on the terrace outside the restaurant throughout the evening. When the chef noticed that a man at a neighbouring table was not a fan of the fishy dishes that had been served, he offered to cook him something different and gave him some options.

 

Despite the intimidating name, there were no dishes here to frighten the horses. What we had was a menu of classic dishes that had small innovations, but focused mainly on flavour. Each dish was one that I had tried in one guise or another before on trips to Spain, but the best version I’d ever had. If they stuck with just this theme, and turned into a Spanish restaurant, I would happily keep coming back for these same dishes. But I’m also really excited to see what comes next.

Guts & Glory, Utrechtsestraat 6, Amsterdam

 

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Getting a pizza at Pizzeria Da Michele, Naples

Da Michele is the Neapolitan institution. Year after year it tops the lists for best pizza in Naples. When I mentioned it to my boyfriend’s Neapolitan housemate, a wistful look of deep longing came over his face, as he explained that this was his favourite place. It was the place that gave the ‘Eat’ to ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ and photos of Julia Roberts have pride of place throughout the restaurant. Founded in the 19th Century, they officially sell only two types of pizza; Marinara, with tomato sauce, garlic, oil and oregano, and Margherita, with tomato sauce, fior di latte mozzarella and fresh basil. There is in fact a secret third option, a pizza bianco with mozzarella and oregano, which we saw making the rounds with locals while we were there. The medium sized pizzas are ample, and set you back €4.50.

Every visitor to Naples knows that it is the home of pizza, which is probably why Neapolitans are the people the Mediterranean paradox forgot, but it is anything but a simple fast food. The real Neapolitan pizzerias are members of an organisation, the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana, which has a stringent set of rules 11 pages long which its members must abide by. This dictates the proportion of yeast in the dough, the type, the method of stretching and rising the dough, and the 90 second maximum a pizza can stay in the wood burning stove.

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Da Michele is an intimidating place to visit as a tourist, so here is the story with getting a pizza there. It will always be busy. The first time we passed it, by accident, on a side street between the train station and the Centro Storico, it was 2pm, prime lunchtime, and there was a crowd of 30 or 40 people standing outside. The next time, at 5pm, there were just three or four others. You go into the restaurant, and you will be given a numbered ticket by the project manager of the whole operation. This is not the number of your order, this is an indication of when they will start to think about your order. You go back swiftly to the crowd sprawled across the street outside. The project manager eventually calls your number in Italian and English, you go in, and either take a seat, or ask for a takeaway. You marvel at how cool the room is, despite the giant ball of fire in an open oven facing the door.

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There is a team assembling the pizzas, lifting ladles of sauce from buckets, ripping chunks of mozzarella by hand, and pulling basil leaves from a bunch larger than their heads on the counter. The pizzas are very quick to cook, just over a minute each in the wood fired oven, expertly turned and watched by an older man whose one job is to get them in and out of the oven. If he is feeling generous, he lets one of the other young men take a go, which he inevitably takes over halfway through. While he waits, he drinks espresso from plastic cups delivered from a nearby cafe by a teenage boy, and throws folded up pieces of paper at the pizza prep chefs. Occasionally he does a dance. Despite how quickly they cook, the restaurant is deceptively big, so unless you get a takeaway, you can be waiting about half an hour for your order. Even if, as the man beside us did, you sit, napkin tucked into your shirt, knife and fork in hand, shouting at the waiters as they go by, and muttering to yourself darkly when they ignore you. They sell beer,water and soft drinks at €2 a pop, and once your order is taken and your drink arrives, you will be left to your own devices. Try to order a second drink at your peril.

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Pick the Margherita, because pizza without cheese is just not right. Neapolitan pizzas are crisp and slightly charred on the edges, but completely soggy in the middle, where the oil, excess whey from the cheese, and liquid tomato pool. This is Trump’s spiritual home, each diner is provided with a knife and fork. I am not a pizza fan, so I was curious to see how good it can be. This was absolutely perfect. The crust is light and bubbly and ever so slightly sour, the tomato sauce fresh and mild, but the fior di latte mozzarella steals the show. It is rich, and creamy, and still tastes fresh and holds a bit of bite because of how briefly it is melted. There is an option to pay extra get double mozzarella on your pizza,but this seems to be a tourist tax, as the three doubles we saw all had the same as a regular pizza. As soon as you finish your pizza, go to the till by the door, pay and leave immediately, because you know how long the people outside have been waiting, and this is not a place where lingerers are likely to be treated kindly. Feel sad that pizza can’t always be like this as you wander away.

Hotel de Goudfazant, Amsterdam

imageI had almost given up on casual dining in Amsterdam. While its fine dining scene is as good as any, I have had many mediocre and overpriced meals in Amsterdam’s mid ranged spots. Despite being cutting edge for design and culture, it lacks behind a bit in the culinary scene. It’s currently reaching peak dirty burger, with doughnuts, fermentation and nose to tail likely to make landfall next year. To avoid disappointment, I tend to go back to old favourites like Worst Wijn Cafe and De Kas time and again. Now, Hotel de Goudfazant can be added to that select list.

imageI had heard lots of good things about it, but its location in an industrial estate in deepest darkest Amsterdam Noord, a ferry ride away from the main part of the city, was off-putting. I’ve read five or six travel articles screaming the virtues of Noord in as many months, so I finally summoned up the added energy to brave the five minute free ferry journey from behind Centraal Station (I know, I’m a trailblazer). Hotel de Goudfazant is located in an old car factory, on a quay facing the city, about 20 minutes walk through 1960s housing blocks and deserted industrial estates. It’s not actually a hotel, but is named after a line in a Jacques Brel song.  There is a lot going on in Noord at the moment, but Hotel De Goudfazant is still off the beaten track, a few kilometres in the opposite direction from the hubs at A’Dam tower and the NDSM Wharf. You’d never find it if you didn’t know it was there, but when we arrived late on a Friday night, it was heaving with people.

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On offer is very reasonably priced French inspired menus, with three courses coming in at 31.50. While nothing on the menu is going to come as a surprise, with starters such as terrine, a charuterie plate, and fish soup, each course we tried was perfectly executed and made with outstanding ingredients. I started with the classic beetroot and goats cheese starter, with whole roasted beetroot complimented with slices of candied beetroot, piped goats cheese, thin slices of crisped sourdough and a base sauce of caramelised onion and orange. Himself picked out a perfect chicken liver and pistachio terrine, which was chunky, slightly falling apart to the touch and served with relish and cornichons.

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Every single table around us had a roasted poussin on it, so I had my order set only to discover that it was sold out and instead, I panic ordered Angus beef with polenta dauphinoise. I have a pretty high standard for beef, coming from Ireland, and there was no price supplement for the order, so I did not expect anything outstanding. Fortunately, I was wrong.  The beef came in thick, tender, pink slabs with a rich jus. It had an incredible flavour, and was probably the best steak I have had in a restaurant. Polenta dauphinoise was in fact deep fried balls of cheesy polenta, and the dish was finished with a slice of braised chicory because somewhere in Amsterdam there has to be a rule that everything comes with chicory. The lamb with broad beans and and aubergine was an equally lovely cut of meat. We finished off with an orange blossom parfait, and an excellent cheese board of French cheeses, including a French gouda gris.

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I have no idea how they can afford to offer a menu like this at a price like this, but they are certainly not cutting costs on the quality or provenance of their ingredients. They also had a reasonably priced wine list, with some lovely natural wines. The staff are friendly, professional and knowledgable, happy to talk you through the wine list and the menu in English or Dutch. This is the best value dining I have found in Amsterdam, and combined with the great view and lively space, it is well worth the detour.

Hotel de Goudfazant, Aambeeldstraat 10H, 1021 KB, Amsterdam 

 

 

A Brief Guide to Alsace, France

IMG_0632Alsace is an odd region. Tossed between France and Germany for a few hundred years, it’s a little bit of both and neither. It’s mainly known for its wine, choucroute, and as the spiritual home of the great Parisian brasseries, established by Alsatian refugees in the Nineteenth Century. Despite its traumatic history, the region has a chain of dozens of perfectly preserved medieval villages and towns, stretched at intervals of a few kilometres along the 180km Route Des Vins between Strasbourg and Colmar. We used Colmar as our base for exploring the biggest cluster of villages which ring around the city over three days. Alsace can be more than a little bit twee at times, but when you are walking around the empty streets of a perfectly preserved medieval village like Bergheim or sitting in a vineyard watching storks swoop among the vines, it feels like stepping back into another age. It’s also a dream come true for anyone who is really interested in wine.

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I have to say that Alsace was not the culinary destination I had hoped for.I have read a lot about the amazing Alsatian food culture but didn’t see much evidence of it. In Colmar, we struggled to find a restaurant that served anything other than overpriced choucroute and tarte flambé. There is only so much sauerkraut a person can take, and I had expected a mix of traditional and more innovative spots, but didn’t find them. A lot of our meals ended up being in our apartment and comprised of local Munster cheese, terrines and rilletes bought from local shops together with baguettes. This is pretty much my dream meal, and handy for the budget, but not what serious foodies might be looking for on holidays.

IMG_0659Colmar is not your typical city break kind of city, it is quiet with no cafe/bar culture of note. Despite both France and Germany being known for this, it seems to have bypassed Alsace. Except for a few dodgy looking clubs and Irish pubs, Colmar is deserted after dinnertime. There is a strange reluctance about local wine. Restaurants rarely tell you anything more about the wine they serve than the grape variety, and we found one wine bar in the whole city.

This is maybe because Alsace seems to have a very casual relationship to wine. In all my travelling in France, Italy and Spain, I have never seen a place where wine is so much a part of the fabric of the region. Everyone makes it. Really, truly everyone. We passed through villages where every second house was selling its own bottles of Riesling and Pinot Blanc. All of the land, from small gardens, to the hillsides and fields between villages, is covered in vines. Any notion you have of wine tasting as an elite activity will be put to rest pretty quickly when you taste a glass of cremant given to you by a man in mud covered wellies, which you enjoy with a view of his tractor. Wine making is very traditional here, with most winemakers being the same family operation that has been around for hundreds of years, and outsiders frowned upon. With all that in mind, here are a few of the things we picked up from our trip:

Food:

Restaurant Edel, Eguisheim

This was the meal of the trip. Foie gras tarte flambé. It was everything I never knew I wanted. The restaurant is attached to a butchers shop on one of the main squares in Eguisheim with a view of a church spire with nesting storks who periodically swoop over the square. There is a large terrace to sit and enjoy the food with a glass of local wine. Tarte flambé is an Alsatian pizza dish made with creme fraiche, onions and lardons of bacon that is served absolutely everywhere. Here it was served with chunks of pan fried foie gras, many many many pieces of foie gras, far more than should be possible for the price of 14 euros. It should have been too much, and for lesser mortals, it might be. But for me, it was perfection. Himself had an equally excellent pie of duck confit, foie gras and cepes (also 14 euros) which could also be bought to bring home from the butcher shop. We genuinely contemplated cycling out across the fields from Colmar to Eguisheim again that night to go again, before discovering it only opens during the day, and was closed the following two days.

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Wine Bar Un des Sens, Colmar

This was the one wine bar we found in Colmar, located up a dark windy cobbled road that was completely deserted. They have lots of Alsatian wines by the glass and bottle, and a selection of small plates for around 10 euro to go alongside. You have to order something small to eat to order wine, it seems to be a licensing requirement. We ordered a charcuterie plate and a vegetarian plate, and two glasses of white wine from Eguisheim. It’s a cosy, friendly kind of place to while away an evening and try some great local wines.

Le Comptoir de Georges

Another restaurant attached to a butchers shop, we almost didn’t go in due to the deeply tacky decor, as exemplified by the white glitter stag who presided over our meal from a window ledge. They serve a reasonably priced selection of local specialties with a few bistro classics thrown in to the mix. While my rabbit leg with mustard was fairly average, the steak tartare with frites that himself ordered was perfect. It was served as a generous helping of freshly chopped, grassy beef topped with an egg yolk, and surrounded by baby gem leaves filled with chopped cornichons, capers and shallots, so you could mix it up exactly how you wanted. There is a canal side terrace that was too cold when we visited, but would be perfect in summer if you want to escape the watchful gaze of the nine plaster of paris wild boar who adorn the main dining room.

Wine Tasting

Almost every village we went to had dozens of winemakers offering wine tasting. This can be literally in a shed next to someones house, or a proper bar. Usually you wander in to an empty room and wait for someone to realise you are there. With one notable exception in Eguisheim, you won’t be charged for tasting 2-3 types of wine, but etiquette dictates that you should buy a bottle at the end. The average price for a bottle of Riesling or Pinot Blanc is usually about 7 euro, with late harvest (Vendange Tardive) Riesling and Gewurtztraminer going up to the mid twenties and beyond. Edelzwicker, a random blend of leftover grapes usually used by Alsatians for cooking with, is best avoided.

The best wine tasting experience we had was at Achille Thirion, in the cave on the edge of Orschwiller (they also have a shop in the centre of Saint Hippolyte). We spent almost an hour there being guided through the entirety of their wine list by a lovely sommelier from Quebec, who gave us an amazing overview of how wine-making in Alsace works, the subtle differences between the grapes at different elevations and the harvests. We ended up leaving with about ten bottles to bring home with us. Another lovely one to visit is Bruno Sorg, a slightly pricier (although still very reasonable) cave in a sixteenth century courtyard in Equisheim, that had a wonderful Gewurtztraminer. Domaine Hueber et Fils, on the Rue de Colmar between Beblenheim and Riquewihr, offered some lovely pinot noir, to the soundtrack of some truly awful house music and a snoring Alsatian dog.

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Villages to visit

The villages are usually only two or three kilometres apart, and it can be  difficult to distinguish between them. Our favourites from the trip were largely the predictable tourist ones like Eguisheim, Kayserberg and Riquewihr. If you are in high season I imagine they are swarmed with other visitors, so quieter villages could be worth exploring. Bergheim is a  medieval walled town near Ribeauville with some interesting looking restaurants (they were all closed when we visited), and a ring of kitchen gardens below the walls. Mittelbergheim seemed more like a hilltop village in Provence, with a long street of peaches and cream coloured house. It also appeared to have the highest concentration of wine producers of any village. Barr had a lovely feel of faded grandeur, although it was a complete ghost town when we visited on a Saturday afternoon, with a single bakery providing the only sign of life while its restaurants and shops remained closed.

Cycling

The Route Des Vins has an accompanying cycle path with good signposting, that goes along smaller roads and lanes off the main route. Most of the villages are mainly at the  base of the foothills, so the cycle routes are quite easy for beginners to manage, with very gentle slopes and a lot of flat stretches. Cycling also means you can actually drink some of the wine you are tasting, without resorting to the inelegant spit bucket discretely placed on the side of the bar. Eguisheim is a completely flat 7km cycle from Colmar, but we also made it as far as Riquewihr, which was a little more challenging at 25 km with a steep final ascent. We rented city bikes from Velodocteurs at Colmar train station for €8 per day.

Things to avoid

Visiting between October-April – We went in March and it very much felt off season. We went through entire towns where every restaurant, cafe and shop was closed, on a Saturday afternoon. While it was evocative to walk through deserted villages, it was also annoying if you wanted to actually see and do anything in particular. The tourist towns like Kayserberg and Ribeauville were still busy but a lot of smaller villages were just completely closed down.While I think it probably gets very busy in summer, there would definitely be more to see and do in April/May or September/October than off season.

Sundays and Mondays – Everything but the most touristy of tourist shops shuts. Restaurants, shops, supermarkets, museums, towns. Everything. The only exception to this is specially designated tourist towns like Eguisheim and Ribeauville.

Obernai – I do not understand how this town is listed in all the guides, it was charmless and filled with tacky souvenir shops, with none of the beauty of places like Riquewihr or Eguisheim.

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Locks, Dublin

imageI’m a creature of habits when it comes to eating in Dublin. While I will happily try new places, there’s still a small list of restaurants I come back to time and time again. If I want a casual catch-up with a friend, it’s probably going to be Fish Shop, or the wine cellar in Fallon & Byrne. For a bit more of an occasion, it will be Etto, The Greenhouse or Forest Avenue. For cheap and cheerful, M&L Szechuan or Bunsen. I think I will now be adding Locks to this select list. I have been twice since the start of the year, and am already trying to figure out when my next visit will be.

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Locks strikes a great balance between serving the kind of cheffy food you couldn’t make yourself at home while having an informal, friendly atmosphere. You can tell it’s a restaurant run by enthusiastic chefs who know the business, namely Keelan Higgs (formerly of The Greenhouse and Chapter One), and Connor O’Dowd (formerly of Chapter One and Dax) together with Paul McNamara (Head Chef at Etto). All of the staff manage to be both genuinely friendly while also being incredibly efficient and they know the menu inside out. It’s a cosy place to spend an afternoon, with great people/swan watching from the canal outside. While I like the spare industrial look a lot of Dublin restaurants have these days, there is a lot to be said for a restaurant with comfy chairs and tables big enough to actually fit the food you order. I really enjoyed the music as well, with a playlist including Bob Dylan, John Martyn and Tom Waits. I’m glad to find a restaurant putting some thought into what kind of atmosphere they want to create through music, instead of lobbing on some miscellaneous mid-90s ambient dance and calling it a day.

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My most recent visit was for a lazy Saturday lunch with my parents to celebrate various things.We started off with three slices of freshly baked seeded rye-style bread presented with a homemade smoked trout butter while we waited for our starters.There was a special starter of beetroot, fennel, lardo and smoked yoghurt that day which came highly recommended it. I disregarded it, completely jaded as most people are at this point by the trope of beetroot starters that most Dublin restaurants offer. That was a mistake. While everything we had was fantastic, this was the standout dish. Chunks of roasted beetroot and mandolin thin slices were draped with cellophane thin sheets of lardo, and matched with large blobs of smoked yoghurt. The yoghurt was rich and creamy and tangy from the smoke, without the slight bitterness that yoghurt often has. I’d tried the excellent crispy pigs head starter on my last visit, so I opted for the salmon tartare with avocado and horseradish together with a glass of prosecco, because I am a South Dublin cliche. While it hit all the right notes, balancing richness with fresh flavours, the beetroot provoked the most serious food envy.

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For my main course, I went for hake with cauliflower, spiced mussels and caper brown butter, with a generous sampling of  my mum’s pick of guinea fowl with parsnip, pickled chanterelle and endive. The fish was melting and tasted like it had been plucked straight from the sea a few minutes before, with just the right amount of brown butter to compliment it without drowning out the delicate flavour. I had a crisp glass of Portuguese Arinto wine to go along with it. We ordered a portion of chips, and purple sprouting broccoli with lardo to round things out. The chips were among the best I’ve ever and despite all being quite full, resulted in the awkward “no, you have the last one” stand-off that is typical of Irish dining experiences. I  finished off with a glass of oloroso sherry and  a rhubarb and custard dessert which was pleasant, in a comforting nursery food way, if not earth shattering. My mum opted for a hefty cheese plate containing large wedges of Knockdrinna and Coolatin with home-made crackers which she kindly shared.

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The prices here for the set lunch and early bird menus are incredibly reasonable. €28 for three courses of this calibre of food at lunch is outrageously good value. Our entire bill, with plenty of wine, extras and coffee, came to €175 for three people. The wine list is extensive, with lots of glasses on offer from €6.50 and bottles starting from €27. As well as that, they offer sherry and some Irish craft beers.  They also serve a decent children’s menu, which is a great idea in a neighbourhood like this. While it’s only March, I think it’s going to be a challenge to find a better meal than this in 2016.
Locks, 1 Windsor Terrace, Portobello, (01) 416 3655

Tuscany Part Two: Chianti and San Gimignano

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Travelling Around Tuscany

One of the many reasons I picked Tuscany for a week long visit, was how easy it was to get around by public transport, at least from the major cities. We managed a week long round trip involving Florence, several Chianti towns, Certaldo, Siena and Lucca, all through buses and trains, and ended up spending around 60 euro on transport the whole week.

On our third day in Florence, following a tip from the Guardian we took a bus from central station for a few euro, and an hour later found ourselves in Panzano, in the heart of the Chianti countryside. The route took us through the most postcard perfect Tuscan landscape (after about 20 minutes going through some dreary Florentine suburbs) and brought us back through Greve, the epicenter of the Tuscan wine and food scene. It was the perfect day trip to allow us to actually get to try some of the wine, and not have to worry about spitting it out, or windy country roads.

Getting from town to town once outside the cities was tougher, and to get from our second base of Certaldo to San Gimignano by public transport would have taken over an hour and a half, involving two connections, despite being only 12km. So instead, we cycled. It was entirely uphill on the way out, and there were tears (mine), blood (mine) and a monstrous amount of sweat (both of us) involved, but now that I can blank out that bit, and the memory of shrieking every time I saw a dead snake on the road, it was one of the highlights of the trip.

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Panzano

Panzano is the tiniest of tiny villages, which can be entirely circumnavigated in about five minutes, which makes the amount of people at Dario Cecchini’s trio of restaurants, the target of our visit, even more impressive. Cecchini is a celebrity butcher (yes, there is such a thing) and a graduate from the Michael O’Leary school of PR. In the BSE crisis in 2001 he held a funeral for the Bistecca di Fiorentina, the region’s signature dish, and his butcher shop still displays its tombstone on the outer wall. He was holding court in the butchers shop when we arrived, to a soundtrack of 80s hair metal, with his staff handing out glasses of red wine and crostini topped with flavoured pork fat.

We made our way upstairs to his packed budget endeavour, Mac Dario (one of three meat themed restaurants he has on site). Getting a burger in Tuscany seems like a weird thing to do, but it’s raved about all over food websites and blogs so that was what we went for. The region around Florence prides itself on its beef, though it’s maybe harder to impress an Irish person on that front than most. €10 buys you sage roasted potatoes, a rosemary breadcrumb coated burger, and homemade mustard and ketchup, all of which were lovely, if not perhaps quite living up to the hype. There was a €20 set menu that looked more interesting, but way beyond our appetite. The budget restaurant is based exclusively outside on a terrace, with a slightly less than scenic view over a car park before the hills appeared in the distance. After ordering and devouring our food, we noticed plenty of more savvy customers ordering bits and pieces from the €20 menu, like plates of steak tartar, and Tuscany tuna (a raw pork dish). If I were to go back, this is definitely what I would do, or go to one of the more upscale restaurants on the site. At the end of the day, a burger is a burger, and Tuscany has a lot more to offer than that.

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Greve

Greve is the base camp for exploring Chianti, a small surprisingly modern town filled with wine shops, centered around the lovely and more authentic looking Piazza Matteoti. After a lap of the town we settled on Antica Macelleria Falorni, which claims to be the oldest butcher shop in Italy, and which is still run by its founding family. This was not the old fashioned wood-panelled butchers that you imagine every Tuscan village has, but rather a modern, well-oiled and very clearly tourist aimed machine. Set over three shop fronts in the square it featured a butchers shop, restaurant, cheese room, and wine tasting machines. To buy food you ordered from the counter and waited with a ticket for your meal, to buy wine you bought credit on a card, which could then be used to fill a glass from the different machines that allow you to try tastes, half or full glasses of local wines. There was an extensive butchers shop with lots of different cuts and pieces of cured meat, vacuum packed and ready to go in your suitcase. We ordered a plate of different local pecorino cheeses, and set about tasting the different wines. This was not what I pictured when I ventured into the countryside, and I’m sure the naked commercialism and tourist driven outlook of the place might put a few people off, but for me it was a lovely place to spend an afternoon sampling wine and local specialties.

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San Gimignano

San Gimignano is the most touristy of the touristy Tuscan hill towns, with crowd pullers such as not one, but two medieval torture museums. That being said, even on a sunny Saturday, after that vicious uphill cycle, it was impressive. It’s not a town for eating on a budget, and every restaurant was pretty crowded, so we wandered around before settling on a pretty average cheese and boar prosciutto sandwich from one of the many delis with a stuffed wild boar outside. A word to the wise, most bread in Tuscany is pretty bad, at least the standard bread that gets left on your table, or used to make most sandwiches. It is dry, sliced country loaf style bread, entirely devoid of salt and much flavour. Cordelia would never have said “I love you as much as meat loves salt” if she had tried this monstrous bread. To make up for this, for dessert, we managed to avoid the massive queue for Dondoli gelato on the Piazza Cisterna, the world champion gelateria for several recent years. There are a wealth of flavours on offer, and te staff move so quickly you don’t get to read them all before deciding, so we ended wildly gesturing at three different types to try. The guy in front of us ordered just vanilla gelato, and I am still disappointed in him two months on. We tried a combination of orange, mascarpone, amaretti biscuits and something else called Michele, and a mixture of marsella wine and nuts (I think, it’s been a while). While I have to go on record as saying it was not as good as Talento Gelato in Arbour Hill, it did make me understand the obsessive love of gelato that tourists in Italy espouse on their return.

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A Weekend in Berlin

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This post is a well overdue round up of a long weekend in Berlin in May. This was my second visit, and the city felt very different from my first in 2008. More polished I suppose, with a bit of the edge gone. Discovering one of the most memorable bars from my first visit, a converted former social club for the stasi complete with 1960s decor, had been demolished to make way for luxury apartments was probably part of that. We had a lot of great recommendations from family and friends who have made Berlin their home, so there were few mis-steps over the weekend. Except the currywurst, which is best avoided.

Henne 

I had visited this tourist favourite on my first time in Berlin, and was drawn to go back for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. It is in every guide book, and the kind of place I usually avoid. It’s decorated in a dark, heavy traditional style complete with tartan tableclothes and steins of beer. It serves one main dish, a roasted half chicken for €8 together with side dishes of potato salad, cabbage, currywurst or sausage. We ordered a half chicken and potato salad each, washed down with lots of Bavarian lager. I had remembered the chicken being good, but I had forgotten how good. It looks on the outside like a confit, but inside the meat is perfectly cooked and moist. This is not a place to go if you don’t like crispy chicken skin. Honestly, this is probably not the blog for you if you don’t like it either. It was so rich and decadent, it felt a little bit wrong to eat in public, the sort of thing that should be consumed in a private booth hidden behind a velvet curtain, away from the gaze of strangers. The potato salad probably came from one of those large industrial buckets, but I didn’t care, it was sweet and tangy and perfect with the chicken. I would go back here in a heartbeat.

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Akroum Snack

Basically a  hole in the wall that you would miss in the blink of an eye, Akroum Snack is one of a long line of Middle Eastern (largely Turkish) restaurants along Sonnennallee. They have one table outside and a few in the dark interior behind the take away window. It was early and on a tip from my brother, we ordered a portion of Fatteh to share for €5. I hate the expression “hug in a bowl” but that’s what this was. Soft, plump, perfectly cooked chickpeas, topped with thick slightly tart garlicky yoghurt, deep fried pieces of pita bread, olive oil, lemon juice and pine nuts, served together with pickles, chopped tomato, onion and flatbread. This is the kind of food you get up for. I can’t explain what makes it so good, it’s more simple than I usually like, but it was so much better than the sum of its parts. I would eat this for breakfast every day if I could.

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Gel Gör Inegöl Köfteci

We ate a lot of Turkish food on this trip, but Gel Gor was by far the best. This was another recommendation from my brother who had been raving about this place for years after once seeing one of the staff hand picking leaves from a large bunch of mint in there at 4am. It is a Turkish take-away with a few seats specialising in köfte that is open 24 hours a day. It was worth the hype. We both had köfte sandwiches. The bread was light and crisp, like a banh mi baguette, topped with rich meatballs with just enough fat to make them tender, fresh herbs and salad leaves, a light yoghurt sauce and a swipe of spicey ajvar for contrast. It felt clean and fresh and surprisingly wholesome.

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Lokal

I had been warned that high end restaurants in Berlin tend to disappoint. While not quite the fanciest place I’ve ever visited, Lokal was at least triple the budget for every other meal we had (because you have to do something a bit fancy for your 30th). It’s located in a Scandi style whitewashed ground floor space in the heart of Mitte. The menu features lots of offal and lots of vegetables, very simply done. We started out with tiny fried sweetbreads with different spring vegetables, and a very bland veal tartare paired with a sparkling Riesling. I went with a vegetarian main, featuring every conceivable type of beetroot served every conceivable way with asparagus and pearl barley and a natural Gewurztraminer. It felt wholesome without being sickeningly virtuous. The vegetables were simply prepared to let their natural flavours sing. Also, the portion sizes were very hefty. We finished off by sharing a generous cheese plate with lots of fresh bread. It was a pleasant place to visit, with lovely service, and a bright space that was perfect for people watching. I’d definitely go back.

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Cafe Einstein

Cafe Einstein is a Berlin institution, with two branches, including one located in a neo-renaissance villa on the tree lined Kurfürstenstraße near the Embassy district. Stolpersteine commemorating the  Jewish owners of the villa on the pavement outside were a sobering reminder of its tragic history. These are scattered throughout many countries in Europe to mark the homes of those who died in the Holocaust. The interior of the villa looked like a set from cabaret, with a perfectly intact 1920s decor. It was one of the few buildings in the area to survive the Allied bombing raids.More than anywhere I’ve been before, Berlin is a city that has had, and continues to have a reckoning with its past, which is difficult to escape wherever you go.

This was another recommendation from my brother, who maintains that Einstein’s has the best club sandwich in the world.Although not really a fan of the idea of club sandwiches, I had to give it a shot. Since it was my first proper club, I can’t really say if it was the best, but it was very tasty. There is nothing fancy about it, just bog standard toasted white bread, fresh chicken breast, crispy bacon, lettuce, tomato and lots of mayo, but it was deeply satisfying and a great meal to welcome me to my thirties (yes, I had a club sandwich for breakfast that day). 

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Neue Heimat

We had many plans for our Sunday, only one of which came to fruition – a trip to Neuheimat. A Sunday street food market in the heart of Freidrichshain, it was surprisingly commercial for the most hipster area in Berlin. It was well organised with bouncers, entrance fees and bag searches, all things I wouldn’t have associated with the relaxed atmosphere inside. Set in a series of old warehouses near the railway line, with courtyards in between, bands played live music and the best of Berlin street food was on offer. We ended up spending  the afternoon there chatting, idling around, people watching and snacking when the mood took us. We had some organic Spatzle from Bavaria, tacos from Neta and some decent Gewurtztraminer from a wine bar inside. There was also a great craft beer festival on that weekend, so we got to sample beers from Lithuania, Norway, Poland and Berlin itself. It was the sort of place I could see myself revisiting a lot if I lived there for a relaxed way to ease through the Sunday fear.

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The Bars:

Becketts Kopf

When I visited this bar back in 2008, I was absolutely blown away by it. It’s the original speakeasy kind of bar that is copied all over Europe now (look for the picture of Samuel Beckett in the window to find it). I’d never tried a cocktail like it, Dublin just didn’t offer them in those days. I could never go back to a €5 tequila sunrise in Capitol Bar again. Revisiting, the prices had gone up steeply to €12 a cocktail. They were great cocktails, but I think I’d hyped the place up in my head in a way it could never live up to. If you’re a cocktail aficionado, this should definitely be on your list.

Freischwimmer 

The Freischwimmer felt like stepping into another place and time. Located down a dark wooded laneway, on the edge of a canal, in a historic wooden boathouse, it felt a million miles away from the bustle of the city. It looked like the kind of place the Hardy Boys would have used as a base for an adventure. The drinks were standard, but it was a beautiful calm place to sit and watch the water. The bar on the opposite bank had a more hedonistic vibe going, if that’s what you’re looking for.

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Not Only Riesling

Conveniently located about a minute from our apartment on Bergmannstrasse, this lovely bright and friendly wine bar specialised in German wines (as the name might suggest) with bits and pieces of charcuterie, cheese and olives on offer. A great place for an aperitif and a snack

Prater Garten

It was cold and grey when we decided in typical Northern European fashion that we were going to have a beer outside, because that’s what you do in May. The fact that it started drizzling after we sat down didn’t deter us. Prater biergarten is a giant, historic beer garden off one of the main streets in Prenzlauerberg. It has  hundreds yellow painted benches and tables surrounded by chestnut trees and floodlights for evening. It felt like a uniquely German place to visit. You can buy different types of beer, and traditional snacks like pretzels and currywurst from the stands on the edge of the garden.

A Whirlwind Tour of Galway

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When I asked friends from Galway for tips on what to do, I got a laundry list of restaurants, cafes and pubs. “There aren’t really any ‘sights’ in Galway, it’s more a place to eat and drink and wander” I was told. So that’s what we did.We also went for a brutally cold swim in the ocean at Salthill, but mainly we ate and drank our way around town for 24 hours. For a small city, it’s punching well above its weight in culinary terms. We didn’t get to try everywhere I wanted (the universally recommended Kai for example was closed for the bank holiday) but managed a good whistlestop tour of the main highlights:

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Sheridans

Sheridans is a small chain of cheesemongers with a branch in Dublin, and strong presence on the farmers market circuit around Ireland. In Galway, they have added to that with a lovely wine bar above their shop. It’s a welcoming space with large communal tables, high ceilings and big old sash windows looking out at St.Nicholas’ church. They have a number of bottles open at any given time, but they’ll also open any for you that you ask if you want to try a glass, for between €6-8. You can also buy bottles to take away, as plenty of people were doing while we sat there. We went with staff recommendations and got a fruity Malbec and delicate Insolia. To help wash them down, we went with a very ample “small” cheese plate for €10 featuring Irish cheeses like Ardrahan and Gubbeen together with Mimolette, Manchego Tetilla and an unusual blue whose name I’ve forgotten. There was such a lovely relaxed atmosphere, it’s the kind of place you’d stay all evening in if you could.

Cava Bodega

Cava Bodega is one of three restaurants owned by JP McMahon, who brought Galway its first Michelin star with Aniar. As that was a little outside the budget, Cava seemed a great alternative, a lively casual place serving an extensive range of tapas. It seems to be pretty popular with Galway’s glamorous twenty-something women, immediately leaving me feeling underdressed. The staff were friendly, if slightly overworked but it was a nice place to sit and soak up the atmosphere. The menu is huge, literally 50 or so dishes, and we picked a little randomly, ending up with way too much food from 5 tapas shared between two. A highlight was the local mussels with almonds and garlic, and the pork neck with morcilla, migas and piquillo peppers. With some cava, and a very nice carafe of Verdejo, the bill came to just 40 each for more food than we could finish.

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Neachtains

It feels like everyone in Galway stops by Neachtains at some point in the day. After an evening drink there, we were recognising most of the people we passed on the street the next day. An old fashioned pub that still has the counter it used to sell groceries, they have a warren of rooms and snugs, some with fireplaces. There is also a large outside area spilling onto Quay Street for optimum people watching. The Guinness is good, and they have a selection of craft beers and whiskeys too. It feels like the kind of place where secrets are shared over late night drinks, unless you bring the Russian secret service, they will not give away any gossip apparently (yes, someone has really done that).

The Crane

A tip from our B&B, a proper local pub with great pints of Guinness and traditional music upstairs. A regular did try to sneakily take a photo of the boyfriend, hopefully because he mistook him for someone famous or wanted to get the same hairstyle in the barbers, and not for some kind of weird shrine.

Ard Bia

Walking into Ard Bia is like stepping into a little community. The staff are friendly and chatty with everyone, the little rooms are decorated with artwork and fresh flowers, and they were even giving out forms to register to vote in the upcoming referenda on same-sex marriage and presidential age.  The menu is a mix of Mediterranean, Middle Eastern and Irish styles. Again, the food was excellent, there really were no dud meals on this trip. They offered brunch/lunch on the afternoon we were visiting (they also do dinner). Opting for something a bit more substantial to sustain me for the train journey home, I had a delicious pulled spiced beef with flatbread, carrot slaw, yoghurt and paprika wedges, while himself had hake in a saffroney broth with boiled baby potatoes. They have a great small craft beer list, from which I chose a honey beer I have never seen before in my too extensive time in craft beer pubs. They do take bookings, but we just turned up and didn’t have long to wait. A must visit place!

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The Stop B&B

My only previous Galway B&B experience was in a house where the hostess nearly fainted upon the discovery that she had harboured an unmarried couple under her roof (despite separate bedrooms) and promised to pray for our souls. With that in mind, I wasn’t too eager to go back to B&Bs, but when I saw The Stop B&B on the top 100 places to stay in Ireland list, we had to try it. Recently opened, it’s a short walk from the city centre in a 1930s house with gorgeous decor and lovely hosts. When we arrived, Russell the owner presented us with a hand-drawn map of their favourite shops, restaurants and bars. Our room had a simple and elegant style with nice artwork, design magazines and little details like a vase of elegant branches. The living room was stocked with more books and magazines, homemade cookies and tea and coffee. This is the kind of place you’d stay just to hang out in. In the morning, we were given a choice of breakfasts, with a buffet involving homemade bread, muesli, cheese, apple compote, and a fry up to go alongside. They even make their own ketchup, and drizzled the fry with wild garlic oil. They also agreed to allow us to check out late, and mind our bags for the afternoon. I really hope this is the way B&Bs are going.

Paris Weekend: Part 2

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Septime Cave a Vins

A sister bar of the booked out months in advance Septime restaurant across the road, and one of the tiniest wine bars around, this was one of the highlights of the trip. We arrived here around 7.45 pm to find it empty. Apparently we were just in time as by 8:15 it was so full there were people standing outside and we were smuggly propped up on our corner bar stools munching on lardo di colonnata. They serve small plates of charcuterie and the like along with a selection of glasses and bottles of wine. The rilletes we tried here were by far the best I’e ever had. Bonus points for the Aesop handsoap in the bathroom.

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Clamato

Clamato is a seafood restaurant run by the people behind Septime from the premises next door. It doesn’t take bookings, and is open on Sunday, a bit of a rarety in Paris. I’d heard nothing but good things about it from all the reviews so expectations were high, which it unfortunately did not live up to. We may have ordered badly, but barring an incredible okonomiyaki with octopus, our dishes were not very impressive. The boulots (sea snails) with curry mayonnaise seemed like a bit of a gimmick. They were cold and rubbery, and just tasted like really bland snails crossed with really bland mussels. They seemed to be a bit of a trend in Paris at the moment, we saw them a few other places too. The mayonnaise was gorgeous though, rich and thick and definitely home-made. We also got an underwhelming but very pretty scallop and watercress dish. We finished off with a red cabbage and samphire salad that was rendered inedible by being incredibly oversalted. We later noticed the salads being thrown together in a fairly slapdash manner behind the counter, which explained it. We didn’t risk dessert after, and instead wandered off in the direction of the Baron Rouge.

Clown Bar

The big regret of the holiday was that we never actually ate in Clown Bar, except for a cheese plate. A wine bar/restaurant that stays open until 2am, we visited twice for nightcaps of glorious natural wine. It’s located beside the Cirque d’Hiver (winter circus) and features a fin de siecle interior decorated with clowns, which is far more lovely then it sounds (all the bars around here are circus themed). It’s the kind of place where the staff treat you as a regular if you visit twice, and actually seem to enjoy working there. The place just has a great buzz about it, even on a Sunda. They had a great playlist going both nights which combined jazz with 80s  new wave and 90s hip hop. The menu looked absolutely incredible, this would definitely be my first place to visit if and when I go back to Paris.

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Baron Rouge

Something of an institution according to the guide books, the Baron Rouge is an old school wine bar next to the Marche d’Aligre which serves very reasonably priced glasses of wine along with plates of charcuterie and fresh oysters. It’s more of a daytime/evening place (it closes at 10pm) and we only just made it in for last orders. I immediately got a glass of red wine poured all over my coat, and within seconds the barman had doused a clothe in white wine and was diligently removing the stain (always thought that was an old wives tale but it really did work). This is exactly the kind of Edith Piaf song place you imagine Paris is filled with, but rarely actually manage to find. You can also fill up bottles to take away from the barrels for a ludicrously reasonable price.

La Belle Hortense

The Marais on a Sunday always seems like a good idea until you’re there. The idea of a bustling place where the shops actually open is nice, then you arrive and every street is packed to the gills with people with the same idea. We ended up wandering for thirty minutes trying to find a place to sit down and have a rest (I was still recovering from the broken foot). Somehow, we stumbled on a perfect and nearly empty wine bar/bookshop called La Belle Hortense right in the midst of it, and settled in. With a lovely old zinc bar to sit at, and a hefty selection of wines, it was a great place to escape from the crowds and while away an afternoon. They also serve food from the cafe across the street.

Galicia Guide: Part 2

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Vigo

Vigo is the biggest city in Galicia, and not really a tourist destination.  Our main reason for going there was to visit the Cies Islands, a nature reserve off the coast, but it turned out to be a great city in and of itself. It’s perched on the side of a fairly steep hill with views out over the Ria, and is largely modern and 19th century, with sweeping boulevards through the city centre. It reminded me of Marseille without the constant feeling that someone is about to mug you. The old town is quite small, you can cross it in five minutes, and is filled with shaded winding passageways leading out into bustling light filled squares. We stayed in the centre in a hotel that seemed to have acquired all of its furnishings from some kind of adult film company prop sale. Each night, without fail, we ended up starting off in  A Lareira, a lovely little wine and food shop in the Old Town which had a few tables. There you could get a selection of great local wines by the glass and delicacies such as cured beef ‘jamon’ and little pinchos. We also enjoyed Taberna Baiuca another wine bar in an adjoining square, which was playing host to the world’s largest dog while we were outside.

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Sanxenxo

Sanxenxo is trying to market itself as the Marbella of Galicia, and honestly, the comparison is a bit too kind on Sanxenxo. It’s a town of high rise sixties flats crowded around a city beach. Apparently, it’s the favourite holiday spot for Madrilenos. We spent a considerable portion of the trip in the bus station there, wandering up to various staff, pointing at buses and saying ‘Pontevedra’ in an increasingly fearful tone as bus after bus disappeared off with no regard for timetables. Its saving grace was a visit to the lovely vineyards at Adega Eidos, where we were given a tour in impeccable English by Noella (despite the fact that they get about one set of English language visitors per month). Adega Eidos is at the top of a large hill near the bus station, which we climbed twice. Learn from our mistake, the vineyard is not open from 1-3pm. They make three different albarino wines here as well as some liqueurs, which we tasted after a tour of the lab, vat rooms and the vineyard itself. The tour was genuinely interesting if you’re curious about wine, and trying three entirely different tasting wines made from the same grapes in the same fields gave a great insight into viniculture. Noella was knowledgable and chatty, and we ended up staying far longer than expected. I didn’t bring a camera, but you can see it all on their website.

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Cambados

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The Cies Islands

The  largest of the Cies Islands is home to the best beach in the world according to the Guardian. It is in fact home to two mountains and multiple beaches, including a nude beach that the guidebook explains is referred to locally as ‘the German beach’. They islands are a nature reserve which only allow 4000 visitors per day, which means that you need to book well in advance in order to be sure of being allowed to visit. We did none of this, and instead turned up at the port hungover and half asleep at 9am in the hopes of getting a cancelled ticket, which we immediately did.  Fighting nausea and exhaustion on the boat over, I wondered if spending 8 hours on an island in the Atlantic was a bad idea. It wasn’t. It is one of the most spectacular places I’ve been. In our eight hours, we managed to climb to all of the various peaks, and swim at most of the beaches (my convent education didn’t leave me feeling suitably prepared for a nude beach). There are two reasonably priced restaurants on the island, as well as public toilets and a supermarket in the small campsite by Lanzada beach which made my hoarding of litres of bottled water and toilet paper in my tote bag pretty redundant. Bring lots of suncream.

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Pontevedra

 Halfway through our hellish five hour journey from Cambados to Vigo, a journey of some 50km (timetables are basically a sick joke in Galicia), we spent a large amount of time navigating the suburbs of Pontevedra. They are some of grimmest suburbs I’ve ever seen. So much so, when we arrived in Vigo, I frantically tried to figure out if we could cancel our upcoming two day stay there (we couldn’t). Fortunately, the old town of Pontevedra turned out to be one of the most beautiful places I’ve been, straight out of Don Quixote. Medieval squares lined with arcades gave way to narrow streets lined with tapas bars. We didn’t actually end up eating or drinking anywhere spectacular, in part due to spending a night watching the World Cup final in a bar that kept loading us up with stodgy free pinchos, but exploring the old town after dark was one of the highlights of the trip.

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