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Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

Perfect Spanish olives make perfect Spanish olive oil

Perfect Spanish olives make perfect Spanish olive oil

 

For those that didn’t read it in the previous post, PT and I recently went to Spain for a little get-away. We each prepared for the vacation by scouting activities that we wanted to do – The Prado and olive oil tours for me, bull-fighting and Real Madrid game for him – we are nothing if not predictable.

There is a little town in northern Andalucia (the southern-most region of Spain) called Baena, and it is best known for producing tremendous olive oil. Driving out of Madrid and into Andalucia,

Those are all olive trees, extending for miles, and this was just one small snippet of a 300 mile drive.

Those are all olive trees, extending for miles, and this was just one small snippet of a 300 mile drive.

we were struck by the enormity of the olive oil tree fields – hundreds of thousands of trees for miles and miles blanketed the landscape. We arrived in the sleepy little town of Baena (and I mean that quite literally, the town was taking its siesta), and immediately found the charming, yet slightly out-of-the-way Museum of Olive Oil.

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Culinary prowess aside, Iceland is a pretty spectacular country to visit.

Culinary prowess aside, Iceland is a pretty spectacular country to visit.

 

I’ve been doing a bit of globe-trotting recently and thought that I would mention a few of the culinary highlights and lowlights here on Besotted.

 

I recently went to Iceland for a long weekend, and, while my expectations for the trip itself were high, my expectations for the cuisine were fairly moderate. Imagine my surprise to find that Reykjavik’s tiny town-center boasts a string of noteworthy restaurants that masterfully capitalize on the local fare.

 

I am forever preaching the importance of eating locally, seasonally, and according to a region’s or restaurant’s best ability – it is probably the most no-fail prescription for good eating. However, this directive is a bit more difficult to oblige when you find yourself in a strange land and facing the choice of eating an American hamburger (at a restaurant called American Style, no less) or deciphering a menu filled with local flavors and questionable translations, as I did in Iceland.

 

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