El Olivo, Mallorca: How I Scored the Reservation
- Aug 2
- 5 min read
Pinterest is a wonderful place for many things. When I open my feed it's access to the most creative corner of my brain, showing me everything I love and more — particularly the more limit-pushing things and places I never would have known existed otherwise. Perhaps Pinterest was my first true experience with AI, even seven years ago when I imagine it first showed me this magical place I manifested a reservation at. One I never knew existed, yet the second I saw it I could instantly picture myself there. Images seem to have the power to do that, and somehow I found the power to make it happen for myself.
I had this striking scene of euro summer excellence on my "euro summer" Pinterest board for a long time — I loved it because it evoked everything this part of the world represented to me. Natural beauty made leisurely, in the most elegant of ways. In America we are a bit more likely to protect places like this from commercialization, but the Europeans have a history of nobility — so they are happy to turn a chateau into a cafe, or a jaw-dropping cliffside into a beach club. Hence the magical place I'd found on Pinterest, made real: El Olivo, the crown jewel restaurant of Belmond's La Residencia, formerly a 16th-century manor house with sweeping views of Deià.
It was the epitome of euro summer elegance, and it became my mission to have a seat at one of those tables. A showcase meal on Mallorca with my family — candlelit and romantic for me, delicious for Arthur, a true test of Parker's proven restaurant agility. An evening there represented more to me than just a fancy meal with a view, or an early anniversary celebration. It was an appreciation of something exquisite, the pinnacle of our trip to Spain and everything I wanted to get out of it. The slow mornings, the long beach days, the unscheduled walks, the lazy boat day. This dinner felt like the cherry on top — isn't indulgence the payoff of relaxation?
After a tiny bit of research I soon understood the hilltop of Deià wouldn't be the only mountain I'd have to climb to get us here, as reservations at El Olivo were apparently very hard to come by. However, I remained persistent, and called about three months out, introducing myself to a lovely staff member who actually took the time to talk to me a bit about where I was calling from and why this was such a special dinner to me. Eventually they put me in touch with someone else, who emailed and called a few times, all to be told to wait until 30 days out for reservations to open to non-hotel guests — upon which no reservations were available.
Eventually I succumbed to my failure and did my best to let it go. A few mornings later I woke up with a thought: we were 30 days out from the second-to-last day of our trip to Mallorca — perhaps they would have availability for the later day in the week? I promised myself this was my last Hail Mary before doing therapy on myself.
The staff member had considered me, and so I decided to consider them.
When I received the response via WhatsApp, in the affirmative, the magic before the magic had happened. I was over the moon excited, realizing my persistence, flexibility, and kindness had paid off. All this work, to yield one of many attempted reservations. As I continued my day, I imagined what it might be like as a staff member working in hospitality. A consistent
stream of thoughtfulness and consideration required. Having to always find a way to say "yes," and perhaps essentially say "no," in the most kind but also firm of ways. It made me think of myself, in my career as a therapist, managing the understandable, and sometimes irrational, emotions of others — constantly.
I felt instant empathy, and maybe even a little guilt for my persistence. I know it's their job to field lots of eager requests, obviously, but it's nice to be recognized for your work. I realized what likely got me the reservation was the history of reaching out, and likely having been added to a real or metaphorical waitlist of sorts. So when a spot was available, I was the one not just asking now, but who had the history of having asked before. The staff member had considered me, and so I decided to consider them.
I reached out to about five local florists on the island and found an arrangement that would hopefully convey my gratitude. Not a showstopper, but something beautiful that would be enough to brighten their day — like when Arthur surprises me with an oat milk latte from Caffe Luxxe. He always manages to get the wrong size, even though when I go they only have one size, but regardless I always feel so considered. It's not a tit for tat, but a small reminder that what I do is meaningful and seen. And I wanted whoever it was on the staff at Belmond to feel just that.
Apparently unexpected floral bouquets translate in any language. And so did my appreciation. We arrived a few hours ahead of our sunset reservation to explore bits of Deià, as I had to see Caserra71 and a few other chic shops in town. We then walked back to La Residencia for an aperitivo at the gorgeous bar at golden hour — something I'd recommend doing regardless of reservation status: a drink on the terrace, dinner at their other restaurant, Café Miró, and a little walk through the garden.
Alas, it was time for our almost overhyped dinner. My husband's best friend said it was the "best meal he's ever had," and I started to worry we had spoiled the evening before we'd even sat down for it. Parker was ready to be screen-free for three hours, and I took a deep breath and just let whatever was there go. I had done the hard part; now it was time to bask in my accomplishment of sitting in arguably one of the best seats in Spain.
Of course I had a few tricks up my sleeve for Parker — a few fun new workbooks to entertain him, which helped. But he remained his usual curious self, listening intently to the waiter who explained each dish, and requesting to try everything that "wasn't raw." They had a kids' menu for him and he savoured his big bowl of carbonara, but unsurprisingly for us, he loved every second of the meal. Arthur and I did really enjoy the food; it was delicious and, of course, presented well. I knew it wouldn't be the "best meal of my life," and to be honest, the food wasn't the hype for me. It was the ambiance — the why rather than the what. I knew why I wanted to be here, here being the epicenter of euro summer glamour. And on that note, it did deliver. The photos did actually live up to the hype.
It was the ambiance — the why rather than the what.
Perhaps the most special part of it, however, was how kind and interesting the wait staff were. Many being locals who grew up nearby. You see, I've never loved the formality of a seven-course meal, but I do love the hospitality. Professionals performing as they present food as art, explaining the why behind each dish. It's that sliver of self you get to see and share, in between courses and clearing plates. A reciprocal bearing witness to one another: "yes I grew up in Sóller" and "mommy, that's where we rode the choo choo to" and "I played soccer right in that square as a kid" and "do you surf in Los Angeles" and "hahahaha no, I don't surf, but I wish there was a euro beach club." It's the reason I love to travel. Being a guest in my version of someone else's world.
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