Repentina — Salt of Portugal

Several people recommended that we try Repentina, a humble tasca in Poiares famous for its baby goat roasted in a wood-fired oven. Its name is a twist on the word “repente” which means in a flash. We first visited the restaurant last year. When the waiter brought the menu, we said we didn’t need it, […]

via Repentina — Salt of Portugal



Sunny day in August at the Old Salt Works, Middlewich, Cheshire, UK. After snow falls in the winter and the roads become icy, gritter trucks will be queuing up outside. Following the Roman invasion, Middlewich was named Salinae on account of the salt deposits around it, as it was one of their major sites of salt production. Salt manufacture in Middlewich is now concentrated in one manufacturer, British Salt The salt is sold as the Saxa brand by RHM. Looking for a Mystery Thriller Learn More

33 Things To Do In Lisbon: Must See Sights And Hidden Treasures — Julie Dawn Fox in Portugal

I am often asked about the best things to do in Lisbon so it’s high time I collated some of Lisbon’s must see sights. I get cross whenever I see a list of Lisbon attractions that features a day trip to Sintra. Yes, it’s one of the many day tripsRead More → The post 33…

via 33 Things To Do In Lisbon: Must See Sights And Hidden Treasures — Julie Dawn Fox in Portugal

A belly full of fish — Salt of Portugal

Right on the Lagos harbor there’s an old shack that houses a restaurant called A Barrigada (a full belly). It is a simple place that serves grilled fish, cataplanas and other seafood delights. Outside the restaurant, you see the fish nets and octopus traps used by some of the fishermen that supply the restaurant. The […]

via A belly full of fish — Salt of Portugal



HE FORGOT TO LOOK RIGHT Quote from Mystery Thriller TROUBLED WATERS Chapter 37. “The tram driver on the Bury to Altrincham line had driven his tram from Victoria station south along Market Street, where he turned right onto Mosley Street for a few yards and then left to go through the bus station towards his next stop, Piccadilly railway station. He saw a tallish man on the edge of the kerb, wearing dark clothes and with fair hair cut short in a military style. The tram was going slowly, and just behind it a bus was overtaking in the outside lane. The bus passed quickly, but the man failed the routine taught to every small child: he looked right, then left, but his undoing was not to look right again. The tram was almost upon him when he stepped into the road. The driver sounded the horn automatically, his brain registering immediately that it was too late. The last thing the driver saw as the tram struck the man and his head spun around was the horrified look in his ice-cold Nordic-blue eyes.”