The cuisine here is dictated—and liberated—by what comes from the valleys and surrounding South Tyrol, oscillating between Italian and Austrian influences. Every evening, under the watch of gilded cherubs that decorate the Stube Badia’s walls, dinner is sustenance-giving but never heavy: modern-minded mountain food. Veneto-born chef Alberto Toè serves canederli dumplings plump with speck and dusted with chives, venison goulash on a wave of polenta, and buckwheat spätzle with fat prawns and cherry tomatoes. Schüttelbrot is a constant tablemate: a hard, crunchy bread smattered with fennel and caraway that I pile with more local speck, and let soak in olive oil to eat alone. It’s a bread that’s rooted in the region, made for nourishing through the harsh, high-altitude winters. On my final night, Anika asks if she can surprise me: she presents me with an Alpine Wagyu steak from the Ritten-based Wagyu Südtirol—it’s highly exclusive, as only 50 to 80 cattle are raised a year. She pairs it with a heaven-sent truffle-y Barolo from the castle’s unbridled, region-traversing wine cellar. A hulking apple strudel and a rotation of homemade ice cream propel me to bed.
I didn’t think I’d be able to conquer breakfast, but returning to the Stube the next day, it’s hard to resist the sweet tableau, sitting in a window seat eating blueberry-loaded Moosbeernocken, and more Schüttelbrot with speck-draped eggs. It sets me up for a day of exploring: first, horse riding around the crystalline Lake Dobbiaco lined with snow-laden pines, and then to the Plan de Corones ski area—I don’t ski, this time. The Castel Badia team manages to book me for lunch over 2,000 meters up: at AlpiNN by Norbert Niederkofler, the three Michelin star chef famed for his “cook the mountain” philosophy. The same building also houses Lumen: a museum of mountain photography that’s well worth a visit before descending in the cable cars. For true ski bunnies, Castel Badia has prime access to the Dolomiti Superski area, the largest ski circuit in the world, connecting 1,200 kilometres of manicured pistes. The property offers tailored skiing packages as part of a wealth of experiences around the seasons, from bread making with local farmers to balloon rides.
As full as I am with the abundance of Alpine cheese, rare wagyu, and heady Barolo, I kept coming back to my tablemate, the Schüttelbrot: Castel Badia, I think, like the hardy, ever-versatile Schüttelbrot, represents a kind of reverence without nostalgia or sentimentality. Castel Badia wears its centuries lightly to buoy a very compelling kind of luxury, just nudging the Tyrolean clouds.
Photo: Castel Badia
