The house
A family home that never quite stopped being one.
Tend, do not own.
the way you keep a recipe, and the way you keep a garden
We cook for the romance of an ordinary evening. Old recipes are kept like letters, then opened to the market and the season until they soften into something that belongs to this house and this city.
Rosetta lives inside an old townhouse on a leafy street in Roma Norte, where ferns climb the staircase and jasmine leans through every open window. The rooms were once a family home, and they still feel that way, all worn marble, soft afternoon light, and the slow hum of a kitchen that has learned to wait. We cook the way the house asks us to. Italian recipes carried across an ocean, grown again in Mexican soil, set down gently on plates that have seen a hundred quiet dinners.
The ferns were here before we were.
When we took the keys the rooms were tired and the plants had already made themselves at home in the cracks. We decided to cook around them rather than tidy them away.
What the house asks of us.
01
Tend, do not own
A recipe is something handed to us. We keep it alive by letting the season and the market change it, year after year.
02
Let the house lead
The light, the ferns, and the worn marble set the mood. We cook to match the room rather than the other way around.
03
Slow is a kindness
We would rather you stay an hour longer than turn the table. Romance needs a little time and an unhurried second glass.
Marisol Vendramin was raised between a grandmother's kitchen in the Veneto and a courtyard garden in Coyoacan, and she never quite chose between them.
She trained in old trattorias, then came home to Mexico City to plant herbs on a rooftop and cook from them. She believes a recipe is a kind of inheritance, something you are meant to tend rather than own. At Rosetta she keeps the house the way her grandmother kept a garden, with patience, a little wildness, and a deep love for everyone who sits down to eat.
Marisol Vendramin
Chef and Keeper of the HouseHow the rooms came to be.
2010
We take the keys to a tired townhouse in Roma Norte, ferns already growing in the cracks.
2014
The rooftop garden is planted, and the first herbs reach the kitchen by lift and by hand.
2018
The conservatory at the back is glassed in, and the green room becomes the table everyone asks for.
Now
Two rooms, a courtyard, and a garden above, holding the same forty seats we began with.
The hands that keep the house.
Diego Alcantara
Head of the OvenRenata Ojeda
Pastry and PreservesPaolo Brunetti
Cellar and WelcomeSit down, and let the house do the talking.