At dawn, the Sierra de Guadarrama awakens among pine trees, deer, and the majestic silhouette of the monastery of San Lorenzo de El Escorial. This is where Montia is located, a restaurant that has transformed the mountains into a pantry and the passing of the seasons into a gastronomic dogma. All this after a difficult period faced by chef Dani Ochoa, who started from scratch and was rewarded by critics.
No frills or formalities: Montia is an intimate retreat, more like a mountain cabin than a Michelin-starred restaurant. Yet, within its wooden walls and among the aromatic herbs growing in the outdoor garden, lies one of Spain's most authentic and radical culinary experiences.
Dani Ochoa's philosophy: haute cuisine, rural spirit
The beating heart of Montia is Dani Ochoa, a chef with a clear vision: to show that haute cuisine can speak in rural dialect, with accents of vegetable gardens, game, and undergrowth. After the fire that destroyed the first restaurant in 2021, as Ochoa told La Vanguardia, the chef rebuilt Montia with tenacity and conviction. Today, the restaurant boasts a Michelin star and two Repsol Suns, awards won without betraying its soul. His cuisine eschews effect in favor of substance: no rhetoric about sustainability, but a real connection with producers, breeders, and farmers in the Sierra.
The territory as a menu of flavors
At Montia, there is no set menu, because the real menu is the mountain. The rhythm of the rains, the spontaneous growth of mushrooms, the mood of those who cultivate or harvest: everything influences the daily menu. Lunch begins with rustic bread and goat's butter, served without a tablecloth on a wooden table marked by time — a gesture that announces a precise idea of luxury: artisanal, sincere, earthy. This is followed by small bites served on a river stone—a shallot tortilla with truffle mayonnaise, a crab toast, a pigeon cracker—a prelude to a sensory journey where nature rules.
A lively and ever-changing cuisine
Montia's cuisine is in constant dialogue with its surroundings. Many of the herbs and shoots used are harvested personally by the team, who spend hours in the woods searching for corujas, montia fontana, wild asparagus, and wild herbs. Each dish is a page from the Sierra's botanical diary: Los Molinos tomato with riverside herbs, oyster marinated in elderflower and plum, red mullet with mushrooms and chanterelles in butter and saffron. Even the wine list reflects this philosophy: natural, sometimes almost homemade fermented wines, chosen not to please but to challenge the palate.
Radicalism, poetry, and territory
The journey continues with intense dishes that are deeply rooted in identity: wild rabbit terrine with lemon and savory, ravioli with pine nuts and offal, suckling lamb with its gravy, and the famous callos — tripe and offal cooked with almost liturgical respect. Each course is an act of fidelity to the land, each sip a tribute to Serrano conviviality. Even the dessert follows the same logic: spinach with cheese ice cream, pastel ruso with acorn orgeat, strawberries with rancio wine and bitter almond meringue. A journey that overturns the canons of sweetness, ending with a bold touch: cordyceps with whiskey and pine nut ice cream.
Montia, an experience to be lived
Montia is not just a restaurant: it is a gastronomic ecosystem. Ochoa and his team organize excursions, mushroom picking, visits to producers, sustainable fishing experiences, and a Montia Club with seasonal boxes that bring the Sierra to customers' homes. Here, cooking is not a spectacle, but a ritual. A ritual that connects diners to the land, forcing them to slow down, listen, and breathe in the forest. Upon leaving, the contrast is powerful: the austere silence of the monastery on one side, the lively warmth of the kitchen on the other. Inside Montia, life pulsates, unpredictable and sincere—like the wind rushing through the trees of the Sierra.
