Ibiza has over the years inherited its recalcitrant and contumacious reputation by hosting summer fiesta to holidaymakers who happily cover their bleached torsos with tattoos of Pegasus, whilst masquerading around the pubs and clubs of San Antonio in football shirts, suggesting an allegiance to their hometown.
What people don’t realise is that most of this beautiful Island has remained unsullied by such odious tourism; just this week I was lucky enough to enjoy a short break in Santa Ines, located to the north west of the Island.
A simple dish of padron peppers enjoyed within the unblemished purlieu, heralded an enchanting Mediterranean experience.
The green pimientos were first pan fried with a good extra virgin olive oil, finished off in the oven and served with an indigenous artisan salt.
Brits aboard shouldn’t take their evening meal in restaurants that may include on their front signage the caricature of a British uniformed police officer enjoying a drink made from yeast-fermented malt. There’s more to life than mushy peas, or Yorkshire Caviar as they call it in Leeds.
Serves 4 as Tapas