We arrived at the restaurant sore-footed and sweaty from our morning hike. It wasn’t even 2 pm and we had already hiked 8 miles with over 1500ft of elevation gain. Another traveler at dinner last night had recommended San Brite as a local farm- focused restaurant; a place to grab a great sandwich made with farm-made cheese.
Having finished the hike early and unbroken, we were famished, so of course we headed immediately there.
Something was off, however, about the restaurant. P had wanted to confirm it was open, so had called ahead from the hotel lobby while I looked at the website. The site stated they were asking for reservations and were open for dinner. I thought we had been told that they were only open at lunch. Something was amiss, so I suggested that P ask if they had a table (why would a basic farmhouse not have a table?) and they said they thought they would.
In any case, we had a plan and so noisily climbed into the taxi, with only a mild amount of confusion regarding our destination. Upon arrival, P didn’t notice the Michelin sign next to the door, but I did.
Even without such indicators, however, she is much more instinctively polite than I am and intuitively recognized the propriety of depositing her hiking poles in the umbrella stand. I, of course, followed suit.
Inside, the greeter took our daypacks and deposited them in the closet. That was very nice.
And thus began the unexpected lunch at a small (8 table) farm to table Michelin-starred restaurant on the edge of Cortina d’Ampezzo.
From the beginning, with scented hand towels followed by mushroom consommé, we were smitten (and I don’t usually like mushrooms). We were next offered a plate of house-made salumi, all of which melted flavorfully into our mouths.
We had chosen the tasting menu (why would one choose anything else) and extraordinary courses just kept coming.
The bread was homemade, and served with butter (from the farm) that came out of the kitchen presented in a massive bucket in spiky peaks, looking like a meringue. From there it was dolloped onto a large chilled stone that sat at the center of the table. It was beautiful, tasting of grass and the flowers of the autumn meadow.
We were then served sublime char, and this golden spoon was the flatware of choice for a decadent cauliflower cream with burnt lemon and trout broth.
These delicate duck ravioli popped like soup dumplings in my mouth, and a subsequent course of hare was absolutely delicious, putting both of our minds at ease.
As we ate, we chatted with the team at San Brite. They have a sister institution, El Brite de Larieto, that is a bit further away. El Brite is de Larieto the agriturismo, the farmhouse, where we might have found our sandwiches if we had known where we were going. But instead we made a mistake (a glorious mistake) and ended up at the restaurant.
I honestly felt a bit awkward in my sweaty t-shirt and hiking pants, but the staff of the restaurant were all absolutely gracious and clearly enjoyed their jobs.
Feeling a bit awkward, we were both surprised when they dessert wine was served and they invited us to the cheese cave in the basement. There we tasted three housemade cheeses and reviewed the production and aging process.
Back upstairs, after a cleansing salad, it was time for dessert, a sugar free gelato sweetened with corn (and maybe some honey) served with buckwheat sprinkles, all over licorice cream. It was breathtaking.
More than two hours after we arrived, we enjoyed a few last finishing bites, paid the bill, donned our packs, gathered up our hiking poles, and began our trek back down the hill to town.
As we stepped into the street, the last of the other remaining diners waved at us from their Audi, and sped away.
The morning hike through the woods south of Cortina d’Ampezzo had been stunning, with beautiful crystalline mountain lakes and dappled views, but lunch had been another level entirely.
We hadn’t been planning it, or even hoping for it. We had expected something simpler, yet had somehow arrived at a restaurant where we were hopelessly out of place.
Still, we were welcomed warmly and never made to feel anything other than right. And it was truly divine.
butterblogger 