Midway through our epic multi-course lunch with all the trimmings – miniature handbag stools; anchovy butter; little rolls of beetroot on top of seaweed, barely visible through the billowing dry ice – I’m being asked a question.
“Don’t you feel a little uncomfortable enjoying all this in the refectory where monks ate bread and soup in silence before retiring, not to the pool for a siesta, but to their cells for further prayer and circumspection?”
“Not at all,” I tell my wife, Joanna. Granted, it’s a tetchy riposte. But I plead that the monks should be delighted that their 12th century monastery has been restored with such extraordinary reverence and transformed into a heavenly retreat, amid rows of immaculate vines – remarkably similar to those that have sustained them for centuries.
“Just ask,” says Joanna, undergoing a conversion a few hours later and proposing to return to Abadia Retuerta, a few hours’ drive north of Madrid, each year, as long as the good God is willing. to us.
Consider it done, although we still have some pennies to save. Rooms aren’t cheap here, but what you get in return goes way beyond food and lodging. Suffice to say, I come out with a grand statement on day two that understandably cuts little ice with Joanna. “I feel like a better person,” I tell her.
Mark Palmer checks into Abadia Retuerta, a former convent located a few hours’ drive north of Madrid
Trite but true. The monks may be long gone – expelled in 1835 when the Spanish Prime Minister had a Henry VIII moment and shut down all monastic communities – but in a sense they are still there.
You can feel their presence in the vaulted cloisters and chapter house; through the wide corridors that stretch the entire length of the building; down by the canal and river Duarte where fruits, vegetables and herbs make the short journey from raised beds to the kitchens; and in the huge Baroque/Romanesque church itself, which takes little imagination to see the priests enter, dressed in their white and cream robes. The staff, many of them local, wear the same colors as they fly around.
On the main terrace, swifts and swallows flit from one crevice to the next, while at the top of the bell tower, the semi-permanent hotel residents occasionally flap their wings to protect their offspring. These are the storks, a male and female that spend their winters in Africa before returning here each spring to breed, their 90 cm high nest built on a man-made platform just below a small cross. Pride of place.
Pictured is the walled pool at Abadia Retuerta. “Making a splash here wouldn’t fit the serene vibe,” says Mark
Wine is central to Abadia, Mark reveals. Above you can see the special mix of the retreat
There were once 600 monasteries of the French Premonstratensian Order in Europe, but Abadia Retuerta is one of only two to survive. It is owned by Novartis, the pharmaceutical company based in Basel, Switzerland, which acquired the entire estate in 2008 and set up a project that has consistently received critical acclaim from various heritage authorities.
Novartis has a renowned collection of art, some of which adorn the walls of the hotel – mainly the work of 17th-century painters such as Guardi, along with tapestries from the Louis XIV period and creations by the likes of Spanish sculptor Eduardo Chillida.
Wine is central to Abadia. Indeed, if you’re not interested in or don’t want to learn about the intricacies and challenges of producing wines – mainly from the tempranillo grape – in an area of northern Spain that often suffers from rain well into early spring damaging frost, then you might be better off going to the Costas instead.
“It’s good that the grapes suffer, but not too much,” says Francisco Sanchez de Puerta Galvan, who has been working at Abadia Retuerta for 12 years with his great name and great knowledge.
We join one of his estate tours, in which he tells us that over 5,000 pine trees were planted in the 1990s to protect the vines. He also explains how the estate was one of the first to use windmills to blow the cold air away from the budding grapes. We finish with a tasting at the factory and then have lunch outside the visitor center.
I’ve always been shortchanged by tapas, but not this time. And rarely do I get an encore to an entire Michelin performance, but that luncheon in the refectory, with an original painting of the Last Supper above our table – discovered during the restoration of the convent – was awe-inspiring.
This is not a tourist area of Spain. The nearest coast is over 150 miles away, but the region is rich in interest.
Half an hour west of Abadia Retuerta is Valladolid, once the capital of the Spanish Empire, where Philip II was born – the man who might have reformed Britain if Elizabeth I had accepted his proposal of marriage in 1559.
In the other direction is Penafiel, famous for its 10th century castle that stands imperious on a hill above the sleepy town.
‘Rooms aren’t cheap here, but what you get in return goes way beyond food and shelter,’ says Mark
But it’s not half as sleep-inducing as the walled pool at the Abadia Retuerta – reached by high metal gates – where guests seem to whisper. Making a splash here wouldn’t fit the serene vibe.
Our room, with warm wood, handmade furniture, French doors and a French balcony, has a similar atmosphere.
There is no signage anywhere, no clutter and the spa is hidden underground. Choose a treatment and the wine will come out again.
You are invited to choose from oils with sauvignon blanc, syrah or the winery’s Seleccion Especial (special selection) blend. A bottle of this wine costs around £30 if you ever come across it in the UK. It’s nectar.
The Norbertine Order was founded in the early 12th century by Norbertus van Xanten, who was canonized in 1582 by Pope Gregory XIII. His statue stood above the colonnade of the Piazza in St. Peter’s Square in Rome. Norbert was a strict disciplinarian (three of his followers died from the austere lifestyle) and was credited with a number of miracles.
What is now happening in his monastery may not be miraculous, but it is certainly divine.