BellaRiva

A couple of hours of driving in the blazing heat – the quicksilver in the thermometer was nearing 40°C – had Mr Smith and I fantasising about jumping in a pool or the lake. Luckily BellaRiva quickly indulged us. The receptionist obliged with a speedy check-in, saving the showing-around and form-filling formalities for later. Luggage dumped, we grabbed what we needed most: our swimming kit.

Like two kids on the first day of the summer holidays, we ran down to the pool. Surrounded by a beautifully manicured, luscious green grass, this infinity beauty may not be Olympian in size, but it is ideal for a leisurely swim and a cool-down. Lazing in the sun (and shade) was easy: this corner of northern Italy treated us to plenty of loungers for relaxing with other guests out of our earshot (a pet hate). Quick-off-the-mark pool service soon elicited a just what we needed: a cold Italian beer, an Aperol spritz and Mediterranean vegetable focaccia.

Beaten by the high-summer heat we headed for a refreshing dip in Garda. From our lakeside garden we’d heard the frolicking of locals and foreigners, and the roar of Riva speedboats. And indeed, there they were – many a fine polished wooden specimen, noted Mr Smith. The jade-green lake was a couple of steps and a jump down from a dinky private jetty. Unlike the pool, the lake was a little cold – although it only took a few minutes to acclimatise. Before we knew it, it was time to don glad rags for an aperitivo – beach attire is fine during the day, but you want to smarten up for evenings in this fashionable resort.

Having been in such a rush to get to the pool, we hadn’t noticed until now how lovely our BellaRiva room was. A white-linened bed was the size of my first apartment in Paris. Simple with refined design touches – a 60s’ Snoopy lamp, walk-in rainforest shower with separate marble tub – as well as stunning views of the grounds, the water and in the far distance, the snow-capped mountains, from both balconies (yes – we had two!).

My dresses crinkled from travelling, housekeeping happily swooped in and then returned them ironed within half an hour. Pressed and dressed we descended for dinner around 8.30pm. (Unless you want to dine with young families, don’t eat earlier – instead go for an aperitivo from 7pm.) After a peek in the restaurant, a homey affair with an open kitchen resplendent in white and blue tiles, we sat outside at a table that let us watch evening descend on this slow-paced corner of Lombardy. (Top tip: in nice weather, book the table nearest the water’s edge.) An Italian white fox who could have been Giorgio Armani’s brother in his white linen suit, proposed a fresh peach and strawberry Bellini. The head barman’s recommendation sounded (and proved to be) too delicious to skip.

There was a buzz of international chatter, but the tables were sufficiently spread out to not have to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. Choosing from a menu of light starters, simple seasonal pasta dishes and grilled meat and fish (there’s a barbecue in the kitchen) wasn’t easy – all the dishes I spotted coming out looked mouthwatering. A creamy burrata with cherry tomatoes and basil and zucchini flowers didn’t disappoint, followed by ravioli with goat’s ricotta. A hungrier Mr Smith plumped for Parma ham and pickles, garganelli tubes with zingy arrabiata sauce and grilled lobster. Accompanied by a pale, local white wine recommended by the sommelier, our dinner was well seasoned, nicely balanced and perfectly sized in portion (a recent US tour to promote my cookbook turned me off large portions and food waste). After a moonlit stroll alongside the lake as a digestivo, we hit those crisp cotton sheets.

Refreshed from a great night’s sleep, another feast awaited: a generous breakfast buffet of cold meats, cheeses, fresh fruit, pastries, breads and even chocolate M&Ms. The clincher needed to be an excellent cup of coffee – and this being Italy that’s what we expected. It arrived black with a creamy froth on top, an indication it has been made exactly right.

Ready for a day of action, a quick chat to the receptionist and a few phone calls later and we had our own speedboat booked for half a day and a lunch reservation on the other side of the lake. After speeding around like locals we were back at our boutique hotel ready for some pedal-pushing – so we borrowed the hotel’s bikes. Mr Smith is the sporty kind and he even persuaded me to cycle up the hill for the best view over the lake. Speeding back down was pretty fun too.

Having earned more relaxation, the hardest work left was walking down from the room to the terrace to sit back with a cool glass of Bianco di Custoza and savour the sun setting over Lake Garda. Truthfully, the concept of a hotel being overly romantic usually makes me cringe. But these Smiths have been converted – Hotel Bella Riva serves up romance with Italian style and ease. And not a cheesy violin player in sight.

Life on Lake Garda is one of simple pleasures: waking up in a very large and very comfortable bed, breakfast on a sun-streaked balcony, leisurely dips in the pool. BellaRiva has taken a leaf out of its book of Italian dolce far niente, with all the sunloungers, graciously mixed cocktails and Rovato beef and truffled specialities you’ll ever need. A ferry hop away, quaint villages, eccentric villas and bustling markets offer plenty of local charm, and where Alpine hill meets lake there’s trekking, climbing and sailing for the resolutely restless, too. BellaRiva’s prescription for weary feet and weary souls is effortlessly potent: kick off those sandals, dangle your toes off the private jetty, and let those views work their soothing magic.