When winter’s chill was thawed by the blossoming of spring, our family would set off for the long drive from the Oxfordshire downs to our holiday house in Le Marche, central Italy. Cruising through the arable heartlands of Europe, my heart would skip a beat as we neared the totemic slate gradients of the Italian Alps. Snaking over the Brenner Pass, it felt like being spirited to another world: a sky-bright Narnia, as we emerged blinking-eyed into the Dolomites sun on the other side. Stopping in simple, family-run hotels for the night, the breakfasts were a joyful, modest but perfectly formed ode to the Sud Tyrol locale—the creamiest Sterzinger yogurts that we savored with crimson forest-fresh lingonberries, flower-flecked cheese (for breakfast!) draped with silky threads of marjoram honey from their farm. Today, most hip restaurants are ingredient-led, but these these mountain families have been doing it for centuries.