Fourteen mornings at Villa Tramontana — Son Bou

Villa Tramontana sits on the southwest coast, facing the kind of view that makes guests linger over their coffee longer than they planned. I arrived the first morning not knowing quite what to expect. By the third, I knew how everyone took their eggs — and they knew I'd be there.

Fourteen mornings. Continental spread — sourdough, cheeses, seasonal fruit, yogurt, honey — plus eggs and avocado, every day. The guests were well-travelled and easy. They adopted me into the morning ritual without making anything of it, which is exactly how it should go. A good breakfast service is invisible. You set the tone for the day and step back.

The farewell dinner on the last evening was a different kind of work. The same guests, the same terrace, the same southwest light — but now sitting down properly, with courses and wine and nowhere to be. We opened with sourdough and basil aioli, shallot and brossat tarte tatin, grilled squash with queso Mahón, and corvina crudo with ajoblanco and níspero. Mains were sharing: corvina off the grill, Huerto Santo Domingo garden salad, asparagus on labneh with bottarga, patatò with Nordic chimichurri. Chamomile and fig leaf panna cotta to close, with vermut-macerated strawberries.

Two weeks is long enough that the last morning feels like something. That's the part I didn't expect.

"Two weeks of mouth-watering daily breakfasts, beautifully presented, a different surprise each morning — and an incredible final dinner of grilled Corvina and chamomile & fig leaf panna cotta we talked about for days. Likeable, relaxed, professional, and left the kitchen spotless. We loved our morning coffee with Chris."— Yasmin & Amor Atasi