Review: Finca Cortesin

Set the scene for us.
Best behavior now, this handsome resort of sparkling white walls, terracotta-tiled roofs, and arched colonnades is rather grand. Not far from Casares, one of the classic pueblos blancos of Andalucia, and a million miles from the flash of the Costa del Sol, arriving at Finca Cortesin is akin to rocking up at the home of a Spanish countess. Guests pass through vast doors, past tapestries on the wall, and into a high-ceilinged central lounge, all fringed loveseats and serious antiques. Charming staff move seamlessly, offering tea, telling you about golf tee off times and babysitters, while the Mediterranean winks at the horizon.

What’s the story behind this place?
Independently owned by a property developer, Javier Lopez Granados, the hotel was designed by the late Duarte Pinto Coelho, the distinguished Portuguese designer whose furniture collection was auctioned off by Christie’s for more than $3 million after his death. Here, he was responsible for the sumptuous, classically Andalusian feel of the place: the darkly cosseting lounges, fabric-swathed walls, and the suite doors that once sealed the rooms of Benedictine monks.

What can we expect from our room?
Designer sisters Ana and Cristina Calderon have created a variation on Pinto Coelho’s theme, with four-posters in neutral hues, bright blankets and cushions, and Gustavian armchairs. In the bathrooms, neutral stone covers floors and bathtubs, and the lighting and mirrors are notably flattering. In winter, they’re cozy, the beds vast as boats, and plenty of room to lounge in separate seating areas in the larger suites. We stayed in one of the new family villas, a staggering space of double-height ceilings, a fully equipped kitchen, pool and garden, with zippy neon artworks on the wall. It would make for a very happy multi-generational summer holiday.

How about the food and drink?
The hotel’s very smart restaurant, El Jardin de Lutz, serves upscale Spanish classics—jamon Ibérico, octopus, suckling pig and lobster—to golfing buddies and canoodling couples in the spectacularly pretty, green-and-white fabric-lined dining room. There’s also a Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant, Kabuki Raw—more fabric-lined walls, and Chinoiserie furniture—serving deceptively simple dishes of belly tuna and wagyu beef ribs. For nights when you want to wear jeans, there’s a welcome pizzeria.

Anything to say about the service?
The staff are professional and discreet, with silver service in the two smart restaurants.

What sort of person comes here?
Private equity and wealth management types swim lengths or fall asleep while trying to read the new Salman Rushdie, while the young, well-dressed Euro families hang at the family pool. Older, mostly male golfing groups in cashmere drink excellent reds at El Jardin de Lutz in the evening, while, elsewhere signs of wealth are of the whispering kind: Goyard totes purposed as beach bags; superlative, but not flashy, watches; Eres swimsuits; understated brands (old Celine, new Bottega).

What’s the neighborhood scene like?
None to speak of in the immediate vicinity. For Andalusia, there’s nothing of this scale or style for miles. But the pueblo blanco of Casares makes a good day trip, though meals are on the basic side in the town’s restaurants and cafes.

Anything you'd change?
The hotel is very grown up, and therefore not exactly relaxing with very young kids (or, at least, not with my kid)—although children are not discouraged. I was impressed by the impeccably behaved Spanish children we saw seated with grandparents nearby.

Anything we missed?
There’s a teeny, tiny kids club that’s probably only fun for the under-fours and even then, rather limited. In summer there’s a beach club set up on the coast and daily shuttle services. Villa hire comes with complimentary babysitting.

A final note: is it worth it?
Yes. A spoiling, fabulous resort of vast pools, lovely rooms, dreamy interiors that evoke the most heavenly country house hotel.