Breakfast, but better.
Erri De Luca, this Italian writer, used to say that all it takes to fill a room is a coffee pot on the stove. Well, we don’t have one here, but we do have an espresso machine that works pretty amazingly, honestly. And if we’re gonna lean into clichés (which are often just truths that got twisted), then yeah—breakfast really is the most important meal of the day. So come hungry!

The set.
This kitchen—which is really so much more than just a kitchen—is almost like a social experiment disguised as a home space. It takes up the entire middle floor, which isn’t exactly the most practical choice. I didn’t put it there for convenience, but for a reason that has more to do with the gut than with logic: I wanted people to actually be there. To stay. I wanted a big, old table where it’s totally fine to talk little, to talk badly, or not to talk at all, but also—if it happens—to completely rethink the whole plan for the day’s vacation. And then there’s the island. Right in the center. Not just for cooking, but so you can see me while I’m doing it—not so much for hygiene, though yeah, that’s part of it—but because I like that we can look each other in the eye while we’re doing things.
The vegetarian breakfast.
Yes, you read that right—vegetarian. So no salami, speck, coppa, cacciatorini, or any other products of joyful artisanal butchery. Sorry about that. Really. But before you roll your eyes or start drafting a passive-aggressive TripAdvisor review in your head, let me say one thing: the goal here is to make you feel like a kid standing in front of the candy stall at a fair, mouth already sticky just from the smell of sugar. The muesli is homemade—not that industrial stuff that tastes like soggy cardboard, but real muesli, with hand-toasted grains and carefully selected dried fruit. Cakes: made at dawn by real hands—my hands—maybe tired but sincere. Jams, some so good you won’t know if you’re eating or reliving a childhood memory. And then the cheeses. From literally one kilometer away. You won’t see the cows, but they’re up on the hill, at Lumini. The eggs come from free-range hens that still remember—not just by hearsay, but truly know—what a blade of grass is, the wind, the rain on the earth. Breakfast is served from eight to eleven, but don’t stress. If you wake up late after a wild night, no one will give you a hard time. We’ll be waiting for you anyway, with coffee still hot and a slice of cake saved just for you—because yeah, we care.
JAR – The country house – info@ilovejar.com – 0039/334.1311619 – 0039/045.4513695 – P.IVA IT04966050231 – Website Credits Siliqoon Agency



