A monastery kept quiet, and a kitchen kept slow.
In silence
the way the building has been used for five centuries
We keep the rhythm the building was built for: rise early, work in silence, let the season decide, and serve only what the day can honestly give.
Reale lives in a monastery raised above a river valley, where the walls are thick, the windows are narrow, and the light arrives one hour at a time. We cook the produce of these high pastures with a patient and unhurried hand. Little is added and much is left alone, so that a single ingredient can be heard in a quiet room.
We begin in the dark, before the valley wakes.
Restraint
We add as little as the dish will allow. What is left out is part of the cooking.
Light
We follow the windows through the day and let the room set its own pace.
The building
We keep the house as we found it, and cook the way its quiet asks us to.
Marco Vitale grew up in the valley below the monastery and learned the kitchen from the women of his family before the great rooms of Rome and Turin.
He returned to the mountains to cook slowly again. His cooking is austere by choice, built on mountain lamb, wild herbs, aged pecorino and the saffron of the plateau, and finished with restraint rather than flourish.
Marco Vitale
Chef and keeper of the houseFive centuries of the same quiet.
The cloister is raised on the rock above the river, built for a small and quiet order.
The order leaves the valley, and the rooms keep their silence for a century.
The old kitchen is lit again, and Reale opens with a single table.
A small house inside the stone, holding the same hours and the same quiet.
The few hands that keep the house.
Tomas Greco
Bread and hearthElena Marchetti
The roomCome up the valley, and let the house keep you a while.