The hotel is situated on a hill outside the town of Graus in northern Spain. We found  it without too much difficulty and when we entered, Reiner emerged from the kitchen wearing a mask. Reiner could have been a stand in for Manuel in Fawlty Towers in terms of his physical appearance. The major difference was that Reiner had grey hair with a disconcerting small dyed blonde streak running parallel to his parting. He also wore a grey waistcoat rather than a white jacket. He spoke with great precision in a strong German accent and he told us he was from Bavaria.


He greeted us warmly and seemed slightly incredulous, but pleased, that we had picked his establishment. He tried to find our booking in a large spiral bound notebook and after much turning of pages spotted our booking in neat handwriting. Reiner was obviously not a fan of computers.  We enquired about eating but Reiner was most apologetic. There was no menu as Chef was lying down. He had had a very stressful week. Reiner then said that we could have a crab salad and some fresh black monkfish which they sourced from a supplier further north and which they ordered a day in advance and said fish was then delivered by speedy courier. This was slightly more information that we felt we needed but Reiner was obviously a details man as we leaned during our stay. We told Rainer that we would happily eat anything he could provide and he then showed us to our room. 

The room was comfortable and the bed had beautiful soft cotton sheets. The shocking purple cushions with diamante buttons seemed a bit out of place until we got to the bathroom which had a gold metal basin and a ceiling of highly  polished copper which reflected everything underneath. We have stayed in quite a few hotels but never before in one with a mirror ceiling in the bathroom.

Reiner owned the hotel in partnership with the recumbent Chef and, as we had nothing better to do, we speculated that they were a couple. Reiner left us with the information that he had to go out for two hours and drive 100 kms. He did not divulge the reason for this trip but assured us he would be back in time to serve us dinner. We assumed herefore that Chef had recovered from his stressful week and was willing to reenter the kitchen.

Dinner was something of a strange experience as we were the only guests in the hotel and Reiner obviously felt he had to hover near our table and engage us in conversation.  We learned that he had previously been a tour guide until deciding to buy the hotel with the so-far invisible Chef. They had sunk one million euro into the renovations which surprised us although our mirrored bathroom ceiling must have contributed significantly the to the cost.

Our room had a heat pump air conditioner but it was obviously not in working condition. There was also a radiator but that also was cold. Heating was provided by two portable electric heaters. The dining room similarly had radiators which did not work and a couple of electric heaters.hich had obviously been intended as an events area for marriages and conferences. Reiner told us sadly  that several winters ago a huge snow fall had damaged the roof but they had eventually repaired it themselves. A few years later a 'hurricane' tore off their repaired roof and that was the end of that.  However, all was not lost. They had plans to move the shell, reroof it and  cover a swimming pool they planned to install. 

He had previously told us as we were walking up the stairs that they were going to have to install a lift as they wanted to be able to open up a further four rooms on the second floor and provide disabled access. Quite where the money was going to come from was unclear as the hotel only has four operational guest rooms at the moment.  Whether a hotel with 4 rooms would benefit from a swimming pool was a moot point but I'm sure Reiner had done the sums.

The crab salad was delicious and copious. The small monkfish portion appeared with two prawns clinging to it and was  accompanied by beans cooked with  rather too much garlic and olive oil. Chef obviously didn't want to pollute the pink, white and green arrangement with anything so common as potato, rice or pasta so we had to readjust our appetites to a relatively small but artistically perfect dish.

Dessert was similarly from the school of Cuisine Minceur. I had four symmetrically arranged spheres of ice cream the size of marbles in an orange sauce sprinkled with tiny fragments of orange peel. It was delicious while it lasted.
Gill had a strange concoction which Reiner explained was 'pain perdu'.  It looked vaguely like a dog turd but thankfully Gill said that it tasted of nothing in particular.

As we chatted after the meal Reiner told us that the restaurant was a drag in the whole operation. It just about covered its costs but made no profit. I was glad Chef was not around to hear this tragic assessment of his contribution to the venture. 

As we left the dining room, Chef suddenly appeared from the kitchen. In contrast to Reiner, Chef was a mountain of a man who, I suspected, treated himself to portions far larger than he served to the guests.  He barred our way to the stairs in a manner which I am sure he did not mean as menacing but which, none the less, stopped our progress in a definitive fashion. He asked us in Spanish if we had enjoyed his food.


We didn't feel it was the right moment to give him a detailed critique of his meal as we didn't want to send him back to his bed with further stress. We smiled broadly and said the meal was 'muy bien'. He seemed pleased with this approval of his cullinary expertise and moved aside to let us pass.

Next morning when we went to breakfast there was nobody to be seen. I was helping myself to orange juice when Reiner magically appeared from nowhere and said rather disapprovingly 'Ah you are helping yourself'.  He obviously felt that this was his job. He gave us a detailed description of the provenance of each of the breakfast items and helpfully told us that the they used the small glass yoghurt pots for storing preserves once we had finished with them.

He asked Gill if she would like an egg. She ordered a poached egg. Reiner enquired how many minutes she would like it poached. 'Seven minutes perhaps?'  Gill thought this a bit excessive and suggested a shorter period would suffice so long as there was no runny yolk. Reiner glided away to the kitchen. It was obvious that Chef did not deem breakfasts worthy of his immense skill as Rainer did not emerge for some time and all was quiet in the kitchen. We assumed Chef was in bed again.

Rainer returned ceremoniously holding a boiled egg. Gill, graciously refrained from pointing out that a poached egg has no shell. We now understood the seven minute suggestion. Rainer solemnly told us he had cooked the egg for six and a half minutes. He retreated to the kitchen and Gill cracked open the egg to discover a runny yolk and runny white.

Gill put the egg to one side to consume some of the goats cheese. Reiner reappeared and looked sadly at the uneaten egg.  ' I think my machine is not working properly.' The words 'no shit Sherlock' bubbled up in my mind but I kept them to myself.

We finished breakfast, packed our bags and went downstairs to say goodbye to Reiner. Chef was still in bed we assumed. He told  us that he had no guests that night and wished us a good journey. As we drove away we wondered how long the two owners would cling to their dream of an eight room hotel with lift and swimming pool. We genuinely liked Reiner and hope that he can  make his dream come true. He has been working at it hard enough and deserves to do well.