‘Shells are what I get from the Wad’

For fifteen years I have been cycling with my friends near Girona in the spring. Although there are serious races at times, the terrace share is at least as important. Lunch at Font Picant in Bell Loc and sprint up to Romanyá de la Selva. Eat fish on the beach at Platja d’Aro and freewheel along the coast to Tossa de Mar. Tapas in Girona and take in the climb to Els Àngels on the way to La Pera for the bean dish with Botifarra. But this year the flying shame got the better of us and it will be Hochsauerland instead of Catalunya. Then it is a consolation that Janneke is so Catalan these days occupied that she puts beans with shells in the newspaper. And then take really dried beans. No extra work, just dump it in a pan of cold water in the morning. I have to order shells from my fishmonger, but then I also get them from the Wad. Beans with a bite, the occasional kiss from a shell, all brought together by a velvety soft vegetable sauce. Good profit!

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