La Torre
The old watchtower, now a split-level suite. A copper tub under the arrow-slit window and a private rooftop terrace over the groves.
Valle d'Itria · near Ostuni, Puglia
A restored 18th-century masseria of honey-coloured stone, hidden in our own olive groves between Ostuni and Cisternino. Ten rooms, one long table, and the quiet the valley has kept for three hundred years.
Lumera was built in 1784 as a fortified working farm — thick walls against the midday heat, a watchtower against everything else, and a walled courtyard where the family pressed its first oil. It stayed in one family for two hundred years. In 2019 we took it on, and spent three winters returning it to itself.
We kept what the masons left us: the vaulted stelle ceilings that stay cool at noon, the original chiancarelle stone floors, the great olive press in the cellar. We added only what a guest should never notice — quiet air, soft water, a kitchen worthy of the land around it. The 600 trees outside still give the oil you'll find on every table, pressed a kilometre from your bed.
There is no reception desk in a glass box, no lobby music. There is a courtyard, a long lunch, the cool of a vaulted room at midday, and the cicadas at dusk. That is the whole idea.
Each was a different part of the working farm — the granary, the chapel loft, the keeper's tower. We left the bones and softened the rest. Rates are per night for two, including breakfast and our estate oil at every table.
The old watchtower, now a split-level suite. A copper tub under the arrow-slit window and a private rooftop terrace over the groves.
Built into the vaulted cellar where the oil was once pressed. Always cool, always dim-gold, with a bath carved from a single block of stone.
The loft above the family chapel, lit by a single rose window. The star-vaulted ceiling is original; the silence is total.
Whitewashed, beamed and bright, opening onto the courtyard a few steps from the pool. The morning light here is the best on the estate.
A ground-floor room with its own arched door straight into the trees. Wake to the silver of the leaves and walk out barefoot before breakfast.
Cool and shadowed, with a single wall the deep blue of the rain cistern it sits above. The room for the hottest afternoons.
Named for the old fig that shades its private terrace. In August you can reach the fruit from the bed. Breakfast served out here on request.
Two connecting vaulted rooms off the courtyard — one for parents, one for children — sharing a small private patio. Made for the long, slow family week.
Facing the almond orchard that flowers white in March, the first thing to wake when the season opens. Warm plaster, washed linen, nothing more.
A small balcony that frames the lights of Cisternino across the valley after dark. Pour a glass of Primitivo and watch the town come on.
Scroll for all ten rooms. Direct guests choose their exact room at booking — never assigned on arrival.
Our kitchen looks out over the vegetable garden it cooks from and the press that makes its oil. The menu is short and changes when the garden changes. We grow most of it, we press all of the oil, and we buy the rest within sight of the house.
The oil. Every table starts with a small carafe of our own extra-virgin — Coratina and Ogliarola olives, cold-pressed within hours of picking, never blended, never travelled. Guests leave with a bottle; you can taste the year against the last in the cellar.
Reserve a tableHours. Dinner nightly 19:30–22:30. Long lunch Friday to Sunday 12:30–14:30. Open to non-residents — booking advised, the room seats twenty-eight.
The pool sits in the old walled courtyard, sheltered from the wind and the world, the colour of the sky it reflects. The spa is small — two rooms and a steam vault carved from the rock — and works by appointment, the way quiet should.
Twenty metres of still water inside the original farm walls, warmed by the stone, framed by potted lemon and a single old carob. Towels, shade and a slow afternoon are the only service.
A steam vault in the cool of the rock, two treatment rooms, and oils pressed from our own olives. By appointment, 10:00–19:00.
A full-body massage with warm estate oil and crushed olive-leaf, finished in the steam vault. Our most-requested.
Heated local limestone laid along the back to draw out a day on the bicycle or in the sun.
The whole spa to yourselves: steam, side-by-side massage and a glass of estate wine in the cool.
A few things we do well, hosted by us or by people we have known for years. Add any to your stay when you book — we'll have it ready when you arrive.
Walk the grove to the press, then taste three single-cultivar oils against the year before — Coratina's pepper, Ogliarola's grass — bread, salt, and nothing else to get in the way.
Pull orecchiette by hand at the kitchen window with our cook, fold panzerotti, press your own focaccia — then eat the lot at the long table with the day's oil.
Quiet white roads through dry-stone walls to the trulli of Alberobello and the wine bars of Cisternino. Bikes, a map and a picnic of estate things, or a guide who knows every shortcut.
We sit in open country between the white hill-town of Ostuni and the trulli valley, a half-hour from the coast in either direction. Close enough for everything, far enough for the quiet.
"We came for three nights and rebooked for the rest of the week before breakfast was finished. The vaulted room stayed cool through the worst of the heat, and the oil at dinner ruined every other oil for us."
"Not a hotel pretending to be a home — an actual home that lets ten couples in at a time. The cooking class with Nonna's recipes was the highlight of two weeks in Italy."
"Booked direct, got the late checkout and a bottle of their oil to take home. The pool in that old courtyard at dusk, cicadas everywhere — I still think about it in February."
Real-time availability, instant confirmation, and the best rate you'll find anywhere. We never undercut ourselves on Booking.com — book here and these are yours.
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