A Dolomites feast on and off piste
IMAGINE a world of German efficiency intertwined with Italian heart. Then throw in some of Europe’s most dramatic scenery, a vast ski area and superb food — and you’ve pretty much got the Dolomites.
What’s more, the locals have their own language (Ladin), their own culture and their own slice of heroic history. But what about the snow?
‘People don’t believe me when I say that even if it hasn’t snowed for weeks, the pistes are in perfect condition,’ says Francesco Morini, the genial owner of Hotel Sassongher in Corvara, one of several satellite villages in the region known as Alta Badia.
This means you can always do the 24-mile Sellaronda, one of the world’s great ski circuits, where you are almost in touching distance of the jagged limestone spires that Unesco has granted World Heritage Site status.
In the piercing evening light, these giant slabs of stone turn pink, apricot and ochre in a heart-warming spectacle far removed from the area’s chilling history.
For three years during World War I, Austrians and Italians battled it out. Both sides built fortifications into the mountains and packed tunnels with huge amounts of gelignite. The Italians were ill-equipped, and some 689,000 of them lost their lives. At the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, Italy — or, rather, the Ladins — were given back their land. Today, Ladin is still taught in schools; there’s an official Ladin flag and they speak fluent German and Italian.
Hotel Sassongher sits above the village in regal fashion and is relaxed and friendly, with impeccable service and wonderful food.
Families love it, not least because of the indoor pool and spa. And you have to introduce yourself to Carmelo, the camp piano man who wears red trousers and a purple hat.
Actually, he is certain to introduce himself to you — and before you know it, you’ll be singing with him karaoke-style into the wee hours.
Food is a big deal in the Dolomites. Never have I seen so many mountain restaurants, and none are self-service. One evening, my ski pal and I reward ourselves by taking a 15-minute taxi ride to San Cassiano, where we head for the famous Hotel Rosa Alpina and bag a table in its two-Michelin star restaurant, St Hubertus.
Chef Norbert Niederkofler’s philosophy is ‘cook the mountain’, while the hotel itself claims that ‘life is a mountain, not a beach’.
By the end of our nine-course (or was it 12?) tasting menu, we are more inclined to lie on a beach than tackle a mountain, but my goodness, we’ve had a happy day.
H. G. Wells, who paid a propaganda visit to Alta Badia on behalf of the British government in 1916, described the Dolomites as ‘grim and wicked’. They are nothing of the kind now.