No tomatoes

I have been the punch line to my favourite joke* for a long time, 44 years to be precise, but this summer, at around the same time as the Great White Wine Revelation, I have started liking tomatoes.

V..e..r..y.. slow start to the morning as it turned out that last night was the night for me and Lesley to set the world to rights. Did you notice the difference? I do hope so since we were up until nearly (but importantly not quite) 6am working on it.

Once everyone was mobilised and the kids had swum and pancaked, we drove up into the mountains to a fabulous hotel restaurant under the welcome shade of trees. The tomatoes with super-lemony goats cheese were one of the starters (another was foie gras with chocolate sauce - yum). I sadly didn't heed the advice of DonCarlos and stuffed myself with the starters and thus struggled with my delicious fish main course.

Just as we were wrapping things up, Lesley and I were pointing and staring at a neighbouring table who had produced a kilner jar of a clearly home made drink. Instead of rolling their eyes and ignoring us, they invited us over to share. It was Patxaran and is sloes in a sweet aniseed liqueur, with coffee beans and cinnamon. Served over ice it was a delicious digestif and prompted a long chat with the whole table (who turned out to be the hotel owners). We left with two mangoes from their farm, and promises that we would come back next year.

Now back at the casa, there has been an idle buffet and now much chat on the terrace.


* What's red and invisible?

No tomatoes.

(I didn't say it was funny, just that it was my favourite.)