I have visited Spain many times, from the vibrant energy of Barcelona to the soulful streets of Seville, but it is the Baix Empordà region, nestled within the gentle folds of Catalonia, where I left a piece of my heart that I will need to return to find.
The lush green Catalan countryside unfurls gracefully across the landscape, exuding a soft, scenic charm. Golden fields stretch lazily toward the horizon, basking in the warm sunlight, with hay bales rolled into rustic spirals that dot the land. Among the hills, ancient stone villages stand sentinel, each holding stories from the past.
What truly captivated my heart was the food. The Catalans take immense pride in their culinary traditions, with gastronomy intricately woven into their culture. From sizzling sardines enjoyed with a seaside view to cozy countryside restaurants that evoke the warmth of your grandmother’s kitchen, each meal is prepared with an undeniable passion.
La Malcontenta in Castell, near Palamós
Nestled just outside Palamós lies Hotel La Malcontenta, where I had the pleasure of staying. Once a 19th-century fortified farmhouse, it has been reborn as a 5* boutique retreat, embraced by pine trees and secret trails leading to a tranquil sandy cove.
This charming building beautifully preserves its original allure, showcasing stunning exposed stone walls, warm oak floors, and majestic high-beam ceilings. The intimate hotel houses fourteen thoughtfully designed rooms that blend classic and contemporary styles. Each room boasts elegant white linen sofas, exquisite decorative touches, and framed antique portrait sketches. A delightful hint of sweet fig permeates the air, crafting a refreshingly inviting atmosphere that welcomes you with open arms.
The hotel draws its name from a legend of a fisherman’s love for a mermaid under the full moon. There is a unique magic to the area that has a way of relaxing you, allowing you to see the beauty you might otherwise miss; perhaps a mermaid sighting isn’t so far-fetched after all!
A typical day by the pool here is tranquil, with birds as your only companions, basking in the water amidst the trees. I could spend hours watching the sparrows swoop down for a refreshing dip, their bellies turning electric blue from the water’s reflection, gliding across the pool as if they’d just soared out of a scene from Avatar.
The food at the hotel is good, particularly the leisurely breakfasts served in the garden. Lunch and dinner highlight the best of modern Catalan cuisine. I indulged in various dishes including burrata, gazpacho, and artichokes with Iberian ham for starters, followed by lamb terrine and salmon with carrot cream. However, being in an area so passionate about its culinary heritage, I was eager to explore local dining options as well.
Platja del Castell
The local beach is a twenty-minute walk through the countryside. It’s a serene, unspoiled stretch bordered by pine forests. The beach extends for 300 meters, featuring soft, golden sand and crystal-clear waters that shimmer between emerald and deep blue. Here, there are no high-rise hotels or sprawling resorts, just the gentle curve of the bay and the rustle of trees. It’s a natural sanctuary. Kayaks and paddleboards are available for exploring hidden grottos, and there’s a cliff-top viewpoint that offers breathtaking panoramic sunset vistas. A single chiringuito (beach café) serves food and drinks, embodying the simplicity of the salt and pine-scented air, paired with the delightful sizzle of a grill preparing whole sardines kissed by olive oil and sea salt; perfect to enjoy while gazing at the sea with your toes nestled in the warm sand.
Entree dos Mons in Palamós
The local town of Palamós may be renowned for its bustling port and famous scarlet shrimp, but tucked away in its historic heart, beneath an unassuming charm and a seaside breeze, is a culinary gem you might easily overlook.
Entree dos Mons doesn’t shout for attention. Walking past its modest exterior, complete with a kitschy 80s-style conservatory, you might mistake it for just another eatery by the sea. Inside, a few pinecone decorations pay homage to the local area, accompanied by unpretentious seating. Everything about this restaurant suggests authenticity; it’s genuine, and that sincerity shines through in every dish.
Owned and operated by the quietly brilliant pastry chef Roger Cama, who once worked alongside Jason Atherton, and his Peruvian wife and chef, Mila Acosta, Entree dos Mons is a sanctuary of slow food and sustainability. They mill ancient grains on-site, cultivate their own vegetable garden, and source fish directly from Palamós harbour. Their wine list is a carefully curated selection from small, organic local vineyards, each bottle telling a story. The philosophy of ‘quality not quantity,’ embodied by Marnie & Brett Wall’s Open Clams Vineyards, resonates with me; they produce only small batches of 250 bottles, selling the best to restaurants and enjoying the rest among friends. This quality over quantity ethos, was instilled in me by my father, and made each glass of wine that much sweeter.
Since 2018, they have earned consistent Michelin recommendations and proudly hold KM0 status in the Slow Food Catalunya guide. Yet the experience remains intimate, as if you’ve been let in on a delicious secret.
We opted for the tasting menu, surrendering three hours to this culinary journey. What followed was not merely a meal, but a story told through each plate.
It began simply with handmade quinoa and rye bread accompanied by an anchovy froth, elevated by a glass of crisp cava. Then, like a curtain rising, came shrimp tartare from Palamós with a delightful coconut ajo blanco; the flavours of garlic, almonds, and cherries perfectly balanced in a splendid starter.
Next was a revelation: black pudding French toast crowned with a quail’s egg, warm and indulgent—like a comforting hug drenched in sunshine.
Following that, aubergine with roast beef, pickled onions, and a dot of mustard danced across the palate, flavours clashing and harmonizing like old friends engaged in lively conversation. The octopus causa arrived beautifully layered with sweet potato and garden sauces, each component placed with intention.
Mila’s father’s inspiration graced the mixed ceviche, bold and vibrant with every bite. Delicate saffron risotto followed, golden and tender, topped with baby cuttlefish and black ink—a taste of Mediterranean twilight.
The savoury chapter concluded with Forallac-style lamb, rich in heritage and depth of flavour.
Dessert was elegantly surprising, a borrachos of pisco sponge cake with lemon verbena and yogurt ice cream, cradled by a vanilla wafer. Just when we thought the evening had drawn to a close, Mila emerged from the kitchen with warm petit fours, sealing the memory with a cordial warmth.
Upon my return to Palamós, there will be no doubt: I’ll make sure to book Entree dos Mons well in advance, for some places are not just worth visiting; they deserve to be revisited time and again.
La Fosca
It was on an early morning jog trying to reverse some of the calories from the previous evening’s feast that I stumbled upon La Fosca. My route led me down tranquil country lanes and along hidden smugglers’ paths that meandered along the coastline, weaving through lush pine and cork trees. I arrived at a breathtaking beach, marked by a solitary, majestic rock resting upon the shore. The scene resembled the Italian Riviera, with clusters of picturesque pine trees and charming pale white and terracotta houses nestled among them. This became one of my favourite beaches in the area.
Can Roquet in Romanya de la Selva
Throughout my stay, I had the pleasure of dining at several outstanding restaurants, yet this one stood out as a true gem. It deserves a spot on any gastronomic itinerary.
The drive to the restaurant takes you through a serpentine six-mile ascent to a lovingly converted 17th-century farmhouse, nestled adjacent to the parish of Romanya de la Selva.
Settling onto the terrace under the grand Plantus Hispanica trees, their dappled shade provided a soothing escape from the sun. Before me spread a vista: the Serra de les Gavarres unfurling like green velvet, with the Pyrenees majestically framing the horizon. The forest glimmered in a dance of yellows and greens with densly packed pine trees under the sun’s warm embrace. Swallows swooped above, their gentle cries harmonizing with the church bell chimes. The terrace was dotted with tables, all surrounded by fragrant planters of mint and rosemary. This, without a doubt, was one of the most exquisite dining spots I’ve ever had the fortune to experience.
And the food? Bold, inventive, and sublime. After a delicate amuse-bouche to tease the palate, I began with the carpaccio de gamba roja, a dish fit for admiration rather than consumption. Palamós prawns, sliced to perfection, drizzled with a velvety jus and adorned with orange caviar that burst like ocean pearls with each taste.
Next, the steak tartare arrived. A familiar dish, yet presented in a way I had never encountered before. Hidden beneath the exquisitely seasoned meat was a delightful surprise: a slow-boiled egg, its yolk oozing like molten gold. Sauces danced around the plate, each adding its own note to the symphony of flavours. It was both refined and quietly breathtaking.
For dessert, I savoured a dark chocolate soufflé that was decadently rich and paired with a crunchy vanilla ice cream. As I gazed out over the valley, a thought crossed my mind: had I opted for dinner instead, I could have feasted my eyes on the sunset, just one more reason to eagerly plan my return!
Pals – a village from the past
Another village we visited was Pals. A preserved 9th century medieval village nestled in the hills with stone buildings, picturesque arches, castle towers and a 1000 year-old church, it’s like travelling back in time.
It’s a village that you can wander around for a couple of hours dotted with gift, pottery and art shops. It has a few different restaurants and food shops selling produce like Iberian pork and ice cream. Maybe try the anchovy or thyme ice cream!
I decided to take a seat in the village centre right outside the town hall, and it turned out to be an enjoyable coffee break. I treated myself to a crepe filled with lemon, sugar, and cinnamon, with a cappuccino topped with rich dark chocolate shavings that sank to the bottom of the cup. What truly made the experience relaxing was the post-wedding confetti that danced in the breeze over the cobblestones. It felt as though the confetti had burst out of a snow globe, unsure of what to do with its newfound freedom. It swirled and twirled in the area, and watching it was very relaxing whilst scooping out the chocolate with a spoon at the end of my coffee.
Bell Lloc in Santa Cristina d’Aro
Another evening brings another dining adventure, and Bell Lloc in Santa Cristina d’Aro certainly exceeded expectations. Though recommended in the Michelin guide, the atmosphere is far from pretentious. It focuses on farm-to-table, traditional Catalan cuisine.
The restaurant is located in a beautifully restored farmhouse featuring charming stone walls and beamed ceilings, complete with a lovely courtyard seating area nestled among the trees.
As we perused the wooden covered menus, the waiter surprised us with pickled olives and Pa amb tomaquet, a classic dish of bread topped with whole tomatoes, which are sliced and rubbed onto the bread with olive oil and salt. For starters, we sampled a variety of small plates. I couldn’t resist trying the croquettes; I’ve become something of a croquette connoisseur with my own personal rating system! (These definitely scored a solid nine!) However, the standout dish was the mashed and roasted potato Bell-Lloc served with perol meat, a unique pork sausage cooked in a Dutch oven. It must be rich in calories to taste that incredible, but I will be back for this dish again in the future.
For the main course, we enjoyed a delightful dish of rice with squid and cuttlefish, capped off with a decadent, creamy Catalan orange custard Brule, complete with a brittle layer of caramelized sugar to crack on top.
Portlligat, near Cadaqués.
I had been waiting what felt like an eternity to make the pilgrimage to Salvador Dalí’s house nestled in Portlligat. The day finally came, wrapped in a cloak of excitement, yet I was unprepared for how deeply the emotions would take root with every twist and turn of the day’s adventure.
Our journey kicked off as we approached El Peni. The road clung to the mountainside, twisting and turning upward like a ribbon unrolling into the heavens. I hadn’t paid much mind to the steepness until the sweat began to bead on my palms as we climbed higher. At six hundred meters, peering down at the dizzying drop, my fear of heights blossomed like an uninvited intruder. Just when I thought I might lose my grip on composure, a local woman zoomed past on a moped, her sundress billowing like a symbol of freedom, sandals tapping lightly on the pedals as if she were gliding through a serene park. I felt a pang of envy for her effortless grace.
As we made our descent into Cadaqués, the charming village embraced by the sea sprung forth in striking white, not just cherished by its residents but also by greats like Dalí, Picasso, and Matisse. The anxious flutter in my chest began to settle. It was clear why Dalí had chosen this enchanting enclave, even if accessing it felt like a dramatic entrance.
My time at Dalí’s house was fleeting. A notification chimed across our phones: an intense storm was bearing down on us, and coastal areas were best avoided. Urgency coursed through me as I retreated back toward the serpentine road; yes, that daunting path once more, my heart racing, hoping to evade the impending downpour.
Figueres
The storm loomed behind us as we pondered our next move: return to the hotel or seize the chance to visit Dalí’s museum in Figueres. After missing our earlier slot, we opted for new tickets. Determined to make the most of our second opportunity, we decided that a museum could be the perfect escape on a rainy Saturday afternoon.
We parked at the edge of town and set off for a twenty-minute trek. Barely five minutes in, the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. We dashed between doorways and sheltered shopfronts, laughing despite the frustration and absurdity of it all.
Finally, dripping but grinning, we arrived. A quick tousle of hair under the museum’s hand dryers treated me to an impromptu 80s shag cut, and then we stepped into Dalí’s surreal universe. It was a spectacle, a vibrant tapestry of creativity, a journey worth every soaked stride.
Pont Vell in Besalú
Our last destination was Besalú. As we drove toward the medieval village, the storm’s grip began to ease, allowing light to pierce through the gloom. Lush green hills unfurled before us, framed by the steadfast Pyrenees. Yet, something enchanting stirred; low-hanging clouds began their approach, rolling toward us like an otherworldly fog, tendrils weaving between the trees. As we approached the hills, pockets of dense fog swirled like natures cauldron in odd areas, and mist collected in the valleys, rose like spirits drifting between realms.
Arriving in Besalú was breathtaking, a 12th-century medieval marvel, an intricate fusion of Gothic and Romanesque architecture. The ancient 11th-century bridge welcomed us, reminiscent of a sentry keeping watch over the town. Cobblestone streets beckoned exploration, weaving past a monastery and a Jewish mikveh (ritual bath).
Our main destination was Pont Vell, a rustic Catalan restaurant perched by the river, graced with views of the Besalú bridge. Small and inviting, it featured a handful of tables within its stone walls, a cozy log burner glowing softly, and a serving hatch delivering dishes from the kitchen above. The pièce de resistance was the grand wooden arched patio doors that opened onto a spacious balcony with tables overlooking the river. I could only imagine how magical it would be to dine here under candlelight on a warm evening.
The restaurant exuded a traditional warmth, reflected in the hearty meals that were served. After a refreshing gazpacho starter accompanied by burrata and pesto, I indulged in a courgette flower tempura, artfully stuffed with cod and spiced aubergine caviar. My main, a comforting lamb terrine with celery puree and onions in a rich winter sauce, felt like a warm embrace, while a luscious clafoutis, a milky sponge dotted with baked cherries wrapped up the meal. Each course seemed to arrive on a changing array of crockery, adding to the sensory delight.
Just after sunset, we departed, the twilight sky transitioning into a canvas of deep blue and dark lavender, flecked with hints of rose. Content with the day’s adventures despite the storm, and bellies full of home-cooked comfort, we set our course back on the C-66.
The motorway lay quiet as night fell, deepening to an indigo blue. Rain returned, and the rental car’s wipers struggled against the deluge. Then, like nature’s curtain call, the storm made its dramatic entrance, with forked lightning lighting up the horizon in bursts of pink and orange, thunder rumbling like distant applause. It was more than just a tempest; it was an hour’s performance, a grand finale to a day steeped in art, thrill, and enchantment.
Some might label it sightseeing in a storm. I call it a spiritual recital, a day woven together with beauty, fear, surprises, and wonder that will forever linger in my memory.
If you are tempted to visit, consider visiting Gaudi’s masterpieces in Barcelona, or the Salvador Dali triangle. Read my blog Exploring Catalonia from Gaudi to Dali.
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