The house comes first, then the menu
Larrabetzu, Bizkaia, Spain — One menu through five rooms.
The building was costed in resources before it was built: rain is collected and fed back to the garden and the greenhouse, daylight is used instead of lamps, and temperature and ventilation are held by the construction to cut how much air conditioning runs. What the kitchen can get each day is decided by those same conditions in reverse: grown inside the building, grown on the slope, picked that morning, filtered by the house before it ever reaches a menu. The building came first, the menu follows it. The green on the roof, the vineyard on the slope and the seedlings in the greenhouse are all saying the same thing.
The menu is divided by place, not by course. A picnic first, then the kitchen, then the stretch where things are growing, then back to the table for something sweet. Guests move with the food, so a meal walks the building from one end to the other.
Eneko Atxa wrote a line for the house: take hold of your roots, and only then dare to dream, to set out, to know a piece of land, and to fly back to the same starting point. Azurmendi is his home. The names on the menu, Betizu, txakoli, beans from Gernika, are local words.






