Casa O, Enrique Olvera

Casa O, Enrique Olvera

Valle de Bravo: Two and a half hours west of Mexico City, Casa O, the rustic, minimalist weekend home of Enrique Olvera—whose acclaimed Mexico City restaurant, Pujol, spawned a small empire of eateries across Mexico, New York, and Los Angeles—sits in an awe-inducing nature reserve named after its dramatic boulders, or peñitas, as locals endearingly call them.

Here, amid emerald forests and mist-covered lakes, a few lucky dozen families have built architecturally notable dwellings in rare communion with Reserva Peñitas’ majestic environment. It happened to be Mother’s Day when I visited the soft-spoken chef’s property, which is dotted with avocado, cherry, and maple trees, and—thanks to a system that captures and recycles rainwater—hydrologically self-sufficient. Spread over various microclimates created by the sloping topography, there are macadamia and peach orchards as well as weeping willows and an impressive maguey plant, while the air is filled with the sounds of frogs and birds.

Accompanied by Maia, the 11-year-old white Labrador he says is the best dog he’s ever had (‘We have a similar personality: We’re both calm and pretend to be obedient’.), we walked around different rooms and corners of the terrain as Olvera—who normally prefers to say as little as possible—opened up about his magical refuge, which he designed with the architecture firm JSa (Javier Sánchez, Aisha Ballesteros, and Benedikt Fahlbusch) between 2020 and 2021.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Photography by Pia Riverola

What does this house mean to you?

From the beginning, it was clear to me this would be a sanctuary, a place to come and spend time when I’m older and then to pass on to my children and their children. I built this house with my father for my kids, who right now are aged 15, 17, and 19. Of my boys, one is a poet; the other one is into business, and my daughter might follow in my footsteps. My parents planted two oak trees, and I’ll plant one when I have grandkids. I think of this house as being primarily for my grandchildren. I imagine them living with the hundred fruit trees I planted that by then will be decades old. That is the real value of this space for me.

How did you end up here, and what drew you to this place?

I first came here to visit my longtime friend, the architect Javier Sánchez, with whom I have worked on many restaurants. My response to the site was immediate: I felt a strong connection with the land. For some time, my business had been growing, and I had been very focussed on my work. Around 2018/19, I saw Javier build his house in this area and knew I also wanted to build something nearby. I love tranquillity. That became the main motive behind this house. The pandemic made the need for a safe escape more urgent. The moment the pandemic hit, in March 2020, I called Javier and said let’s do this. I bought the plot that month.

What exactly did you feel when you arrived here?

I believe a place can exert a kind of magnetism. It’s a subjective feeling that’s hard to explain. When I got here the first time, things like the way the sun rises, how I sleep and breathe here, and how it smells told me it was right for me, that I belong. Oaxaca’s central valleys have that magnetic effect for me—not so much its coast. I also feel very at ease in Baja California. What these places have in common is that the days seem very long. The perception of eternal days gives me tremendous peace.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

As beautiful as the house is, this place is all about the landscape. Though I am hesitant to make that parallel—it feels too easy—your relationship with the countryside seems tied to your work as a chef.

I think the comparison is inevitable. One thing architecture and cooking have in common is that you need to understand the territory to do it well. When you’re cooking, you’re trying to organise what the earth gives you, and it’s not dissimilar to the approach I have followed for this house and the land. The terrain has dictated everything we’ve done here.

I did notice that the houses on the reserva seem to occupy a fraction of their plot. They are nice, but not flashy.

The development’s regulations allow us to build on six percent of a piece of land. This plot is a hectare and a half, which gives me the right to build up to 600 square metres. So far, we’ve used 400 square metres. The whole reserve comprises 200 hectares, of which half are communal. There are other restrictions that I think are pertinent, regarding things like height.

Is that why your house seems to disappear into the sloping site?

It was a deliberate decision related to my love for Japan. Like Mexico, Japan is an ancient culture. Both countries possess an ancestral wisdom that informs how things are done up until now. Japan is the place that taught me to aim higher. The first time I visited, I realised a culture exists in Japan that is obsessed with doing things in the best way possible. It validated me; it meant I wasn’t crazy. Whereas in other places, one might settle for good enough, Japan to me seems driven by the idea that there is always room to improve.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

And yet, this sophistication seems paired, both in your work and at his house, with simplicity. So much is made by hand and is, for that reason, imperfect.

That also has to do with the passing of time. Age relaxes you, makes you more accepting. On many fronts, I have stopped fighting. For instance, in this patch right in front of the house, I wanted pollinators. I love bees—they are so important—and for my vision for this place in 100 years to come true, bees are essential. I was set on my pollinator garden. At first, I was tending to it all the time, constantly pruning and watering it. At one point, it struck me as stupid; I had to let things happen on their own. What didn’t grow just wasn’t right for the place.

Has this more easygoing approach also affected your work?

Definitely. I haven’t lost my appetite for success, but I no longer hunger for more than what I need. I don’t need my business to keep growing just for the sake of size. If this turned out to be where I got to, I think I would be proud and grateful I did so well. I think, on some level, this place signifies that contentment. I can stop running.

The house is also an integral part of a larger functional system. Nothing is here just because of how it looks.

I see the entire house and its various elements as a single entity. You need one part for the others to work. We did the pond first; everything followed from that. The plot has a slope, which is great because it means the frosty air that can be typical of this region passes over the house rather than entering its rooms. Since we had to excavate for the cistern, I decided to use the material we found while digging to build the house. That’s why it’s made of rammed earth. Besides that, I just had two requirements: I wanted one level, and I wanted the house to be oriented towards the sun. The house’s strange shape, a lopsided ‘T’, is derived from its positioning with regards to the course of the sun. The bedrooms aren’t hit by too much sunshine in the morning, which is good because I’m very sensitive to light. But then they get plenty of natural light in the afternoon, which makes them the perfect temperature for when we go to bed. The social areas face the south, where the sun goes down in the winter. The living room gets the warm sun rays in February, when it’s coldest here. So does my favourite spot, the seating area on the porch.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

Was that the only reason you used rammed earth?

Because of my work with food, I have always been concerned with sustainability. It’s an essential issue for a cook. I have loved nature since I was a child and have always been interested in constructive methods aligned with the earth. I considered adobe, and my love for Japan made me want to have a house completely made of wood. In the end, we decided as we went along. Eventually, I realised it had to look like a house of this place. That led us to using local earth, local stone, and, for the roof, local pinewood.  

The house has different influences. What’s nice is how one might find the same gestures that are prevalent in Kyoto, for example, in the work of Oscar Hagerman, whom I greatly admire. I like when disparate sources overlap unexpectedly. That way, you end up not with a Japanese house transposed one-to-one to a foreign place, but with an interpretation that incorporates other ideas.

The texture and colour of the rammed earth walls is lovely, sensuous, and rich.

Its shades of caramel, camel, and sand became a guiding motif for the house. The natural palette pairs well with copper, which we used for faucets, pots, a coffee table. I always like to pick a main colour and corresponding metal for my design projects. It allows for coherence.

Coherence is a word I notice you use often, also when talking about your cuisine.

I like to have a connecting thread. When we prepare the menus for Pujol, I think of it as making an album, not a single song.

How involved were you in the design and construction process?

I gave a lot of input in terms of materials. It is also important to me that a place makes you feel good, which, in turn, makes proportion important. All of the house’s elements are based on a standard module. In kitchens, the work surface should be 90 centimetres high, so we took a third of that. The house’s concrete base is 30 centimetres, the walls are 60 centimetres thick, the rooms are 240 centimetres tall, and so on. That was one of my requests. I also asked for the roof to be tejamanil and insisted on using only natural materials.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

Scaling space in harmony to the human body has been a concern since antiquity.

But most existing ratios were made for taller, non-Mexican people. So we said, ‘Let’s come up with a grid that works for a person who is around 1.70 metres,’ which is my height.

You bring up the notion of contemplation a lot when talking about how you use the house. So it’s a house for quiet and solitude more than it is a space for entertaining and socialising?

I mean, just look around. It’s marvellous everywhere you look. Why would you want to be distracted? Since I was little, I have always been drawn to spirituality. This place helps me find it. I feel grounded here. In a setting like this, it becomes crystal clear that you are part of something bigger, that you aren’t alone in this world. It’s a paradox: The place where you are most alone is where you feel the least lonely. When I opened Cosme in New York, I felt very lonely; it’s a city I find challenging in that regard. It’s full of people, but there is no stillness. Here, I like coming by myself as much as I like coming with my family. There is no real solitude here; it’s too full of life for that.

But you still spend a lot of time in big cities, don’t you? You just opened your latest venture, a taquería, in Brooklyn. And your primary residence is still Mexico City.

I love living in Mexico City, but this complements that existence. I am very aware that it’s a luxury, which in our age is synonymous with time. We lack time, and here, there is nothing but time. In my kitchens, I always tell young chefs to take their time and do things well. That’s what people can’t do at home any more and why they come to restaurants like mine.

Speaking of time, the approach to the house from the road is gradual and seems as considered as everything else at Casa O.

From where you park your car, which is purposely out of view from the rest of the property, a little path leads down to the house. Javier and Aisha conceived it to help me and my guests decompress. One arrives stressed from the city and from driving on a busy highway, so before reaching the house, a promenade gives you space to ground yourself and take in the amazing view: tall pine trees and oaks in the distance, all gently swaying in the wind as if dancing. Oaks are endemic to this area, and people call them abuelos for their wisdom. All pathways are lined with fruit trees I planted, including pomegranate, apple, pear, orange, and raspberry.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

What else do you want to plant here?

I am thinking tomatoes, chiles, pumpkins—things that come back every year. But I don’t want to buy plants; I want to grow them myself by harvesting the seeds, which is another way to preserve life. I also won’t hire someone; the value for me is in doing it, not just in having it.

When one arrives at the house, the first area one ‘enters’, with a big, round table, feels like a nucleus that’s neither inside nor fully outside. It’s covered but open.

The dining table and chairs are designed by Ricardo Legorreta. We eat most meals there. It’s the ideal temperature and stays cool even when it’s very hot. We call it ‘adentro-afuera,’ which is possible in the climate of this part of Mexico. Facing southwest, you have a panoramic view of the most dramatic green scenery while you’re eating.

Why just four bedrooms when there is so much space?

Because it’s all we really needed. One for my parents, one for myself, and two for my children, two of whom share a room. We don’t have a guest room. I wanted to keep things relatively small. And the rooms are simply furnished. The idea is not to come and stay in your bedroom but to spend time together in the living areas or go for a walk. It’s actually great—the rooms get almost no wifi signal because of the thick walls. That makes you stay off devices and commune.

Since you’re quite particular, did you have any rules for how to furnish the house?

I wanted most things to be made in Mexico. The kitchen is by La Metropolitana. The dining set is a re-edition of a Legorreta design. The furniture in the bedrooms is by Oscar Hagerman.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

It’s clear you don’t want too many belongings here.

I ask my family to not bring more than they actually need with them. I always say this house is not about what you lack but what you can get rid of. I often come with nothing and leave with the car full of stuff I don’t want here anymore because it’s just in the way.

Again, the simplified approach reminds me of your food.

A teacher taught me that at culinary school in upstate New York: that it’s never about what’s missing but about what’s superfluous.

You do have quite a few little objects that seem meaningful to you in your room.

I like to find things during my travels: a basket from Oaxaca, wool blankets from Michoacán and Peru, a Japanese incense holder, hemp bed sheets from California, a hat by the great Francisco Toledo, a horsehair artwork by Trine Ellitsgaard, anything made of copper. I am obsessed with the sun, so I commissioned a piece on it from a weaving artist. I sent her photos of how the sun behaves here, and she based it on that.

That towering agave plant you can see from your porch is stunning, like a slender sculpture. From what you told me, it’s also a compellingly poetic harbinger of death.

Yes, what you see there is the stalk that shoots up from the agave as we know it, signalling both that it’s ready to reproduce and its death once it has flowered. It will flower for maybe two years, be pollinated, and then die, having given all its energy to the seeds it produces. We should all be so lucky to live like that: peaking at full splendour and then leaving knowing we left fruits behind that contain our essence. It’s a beautiful cycle.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

The living room is stunning with its floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the wild greenery. But it’s also cosy.

I’ve always loved sunken areas in a room. Pujol has a sunken bar, and I had been dreaming of a sunken living room. I like being close to the earth; even as a kid, I liked sleeping on the floor. 

The hearth is from Japan. And I found this drawing by a German artist in Oaxaca; it reminds me of one of my sons. The stools are from a tree that got sick which we had to fell.

In yet more duality, the copper table is both precious and minimal.

It’s a Donald Judd.

The real thing or like Kim Kardashian’s ‘Judd’?

No, this is the real thing. I’ve done some events for the Judd Foundation in New York and Marfa. I asked for a table instead of getting paid. It set the copper theme for the house.

What does this space make you feel?

Pure comfort. I do nothing here, not even read or watch TV. I turn on the fireplace and just sit.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

What is the most special feature of Casa O’s huge kitchen?

That everything is mechanical. There’s no technology.

Do you like to entertain here?

Honestly, it’s about the last thing I want. When I’ve invited people over, unless it’s a very close friend, I tend to regret it a little. A glass of wine with friends from time to time is lovely, but I absolutely don’t crave a huge party or getting intoxicated in this setting.

Still, your retreat’s peaceful, wholesome character changes surprisingly in the bar that’s under the house, which is much ‘sexier’ than the rest of the space.

Indeed, more than the yin and yang of country versus city that you were asking me about, I’ve always been a bit split between my desmadroso side, as we say in Mexico—the one that likes to let loose and party—and my calmer, introspective side. I wanted to have an area in the house for that more wild persona. I think of this as the nocturnal area of the house, though I barely use it, because frankly, I have enough hubbub in my day-to-day life. But if one day I wanted to organise a bacchanal, here’s a music room and an area in which to smoke and be naughty.

This cave-like lounge is honestly unexpected. It reminds me of a Lautner house in LA.

It’s kind of a bunker, but it can be a lot of fun. I recently got myself a Margules stereo system. I love music. It’s what I enjoy most besides cooking.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera

What do you listen to?

My taste in music is eclectic. I listen to classic Mexican balladeers like José José. They say your childhood is both origin and destiny, and sure enough, I find myself listening to what my mother listened to when I was a kid. In my opinion, anyone who claims to not like Mecano must have psychological issues—they’re great.

I heard you keep a special book and magazine collection down here.

I am starting a collection of erotic objects and publications. Most things here have to do with that, like this blown glass dildo I found in Amsterdam, or a book I just bought in Marseille. It shows how things don’t have to be grotesque to be alluring. I feel pornography has damaged our sensibility for true eroticism. I even instil that in my kids, that there is a depiction of what’s sexual that’s not vulgar or offensive but in fact has more to do with beauty, desire, and humanity. Like Octavio Paz said, sex, eroticism, and love are three different, equally valid things.

What is your favourite corner in the whole house?

I spend a lot of time in the chairs on the veranda and walking around the property. I understand it better each time, how it behaves in different conditions. I love seeing how things change depending on the season. Purple flowers are a summer thing, orange blooms more of an autumn thing.

You talk about nature the way others talk about human beings: It behaves a certain way, has a temper.

Nature is brutal. It never ceases to surprise you with its aliveness. It adapts to circumstance; it has a collective intelligence. This place is always reinventing itself.

Apartamento Magazine - Casa O, Enrique Olvera
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