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SOMERSET BATH (COLERNE, WILTSHIRE) LUCKNAM PARK
If you look at the photograph of the main façade, you will see the middle three windows on the second floor. These are the windows of my room. Number 26 is designated a ‘Grand Suite’ and is £765 a night for two, breakfast extra. Actually, it has a name: the Cornflower Suite. I reached it via its own staircase from the first floor landing. It turned out to be accommodation of the best kind.
Eating at Lucknam Park is done in what used to be the ballroom. Here my days began as every Englishman’s day must begin: with a hearty breakfast. The generous sunshine warmed the pink roses around the white casement before it spilled onto the damask tablecloth in front of me, and a gentle breeze wafting through the French windows, as I tucked into smoked haddock and mushrooms, brought to me by the waiter. From the buffet, it became my custom to secure Corn Flakes, slices of melon, fruit salad, croissants and – particularly delicious – a confection of tangerine, pineapple and cinnamon. At £18.50, this breakfast is a bargain.
First, I tried his five-course set ‘gourmet menu’ for £75. (There is also a five-course vegetarian menu at the same price.) Terrine of rabbit and foie gras was well executed, although my palate found the piccalilli and onions rather bullying accompaniments. In contrast, the sea bass with a fricassée of peas and garlic, bacon, creamed potatoes and girolle mushrooms was a superb and subtle balance of exquisite flavours and textures. And the loin of lamb – with more garlic, salsify, red currant and balsamic dressing – was beautifully realised. From the cheese trolley I secured a slice of tasty Comté, and then came the finale of ‘lemon three ways’, including a delicious tart.
The list has around 400 offerings, with plenty of half-bottles. Prices range from £20 for a red from the South-West of France to £1,060 for the 2003 vintage of one of the great red burgundies, the DRC Romanée St-Vivant. Other bottles to catch my eye were: another fine red burgundy, 2000 Bonnes-Mares, de Vogüé (£290); an older super-Tuscan, 1985 Solaia (£517); and some tempting clarets, 1966 Léoville-Las-Cases (£250), 1970 Cheval Blanc (£660) and 1990 Palmer (£330). From my own drinking (of bottles), I will commend to you a Chilean red. The list talked of its ‘red fruits and spices’; my notes speak of ‘damsons, dates and earthiness’. It was certainly an enjoyable wine (Santa Rita Carmenere Reserva, 2006 - £28). I left as I had arrived: in the back of a taxi, trundling along the mile-long drive. As you know, I have always wanted a mile-long drive. It is sad that I will probably never have one. But at least I now know where there is one. And, best of all, I know that, at the end of it, is one of the finest country house hotels in England – Lucknam Park.
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ADDRESSES LUCKNAM PARK
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© Francis Bown 2003
Built in 1720 and surrounded by 500 acres of parkland, this Palladian house opened as an hotel in 1987. Since then its 42 rooms have welcomed persons of taste and refinement from all over the place. This is where travellers come to find England as it should be. Here is the world of the panelled library and the carefully mown lawn, of the elegant drawing room and the walled garden, of the wing chair and the herbaceous border. It is a world which can offer a game of croquet, a snooze over a pot of tea or a canter on a fine mount (for the hotel has its own Equestrian Centre). I found here a heavenly quietness, which speedily soothed away the stress of the train from Paddington. (If I had been obliged to endure the bad manners of some of my fellow passengers for much longer than the ninety minute journey, I might well have caused an affray.) Presiding over it all is the Managing Director, one of the treasures of the British hotel industry, Harry Murray (pictured).
In the proper hallway was a table in the Art Déco style, its every surface covered with mirrored glass. Doors gave access to the sitting room and the bedroom. In the former was plenty of space for a large sofa and two easy chairs, all with wicker work and in a Japanese style. The television and dvd player were discreetly housed within a wooden cabinet. Plenty of magazines, including Vogue, were neatly arranged on the coffee table. I found this chamber of beige and light blue a calm and restful environment for my post-luncheon doze. And I liked the bedroom even more. Light and airy, with two windows looking straight down the drive flanked with trees of beech and lime, this was exactly what a bedroom should be in a country house hotel. Well-chosen pieces of mahogany furniture in the style of the 18th Century (one concealing the second television) imparted the atmosphere of a private home. Plenty of hanging space was provided by a walk-in wardrobe (within which was a private safe). The Housekeeping Department, at my special request, had made my bed deliciously soft. My ablutions were done under spotlights in the bathroom, which provided me with two basins, a tub of good size, a separate shower and Penhaligon’s toiletries. Yes, I was really very happy with this billet.
I noticed from my windows that some of my fellow guests were given to exercise. I suppose if one likes running, one might as well do it in such pretty surroundings. (Indeed, Lucknam Park is about to open – indeed, perhaps has already opened – a spa of considerable size and splendour for those who wish to indulge in physical jerks or to receive treatments.) Never willingly having stirred my feeble frame more than Mistress Necessity has dictated, I confined my perambulations to the immediate confines of the hotel. Here I found stone statues, fragrant flower beds and charming vistas of the tower. This last, despite its antique appearance, dates only from Edwardian times, and was built to house (as it still does) a water tank – as happy a combination of utility and beauty as you are likely to find.
It was back to the ballroom in the evenings for dinner. These were occasions which proceeded at a stately pace – under the watchful eye of the impressive Restaurant Manager, Bart de Winter, a gentleman from Holland. But there was no need to hurry. The well-spaced round tables, the crystal chandeliers, the trompe-l’oeil sky on the ceiling and the flickering candles in their silver candlesticks created a setting appropriate for a little lingering. The dress code is ‘smart casual’ – which, being the old fuddy-duddy I am, I have always regarded as an oxymoron. I therefore donned my usual attire: suit, starched collar, tie and highly polished shoes. Some of my fellow diners had taken the sartorial injunction more to heart, but I still felt at ease in an atmosphere which was civilized as well as relaxed. The waiters in black waistcoats and bow ties were careful to replace the napkins of those who left the table for a moment. The glasses were of good quality – Riedel (the Restaurant range). The armchair, with the help of the cushion brought specially for me, was comfortably supportive. So what of the food? 
Chef Hywel Jones (pictured) thoroughly deserves his Michelin star. I found his cuisine to be based upon sound technique, upon respect for the intrinsic taste of ingredients and upon an intelligent approach to the combination of flavours. Mr Hywel is, quite rightly, obsessed with finding the very best suppliers. For example, he buys his meat from Walter Rose, the butcher in Devizes. He also has a proper concern for the appearance of what leaves his kitchen. I have always thought that a great chef must have something of the aesthete about him. I noted on his menu a statement that he is happy to prepare dishes ‘more simply’, if desired. This courteous concern for the wishes of his guests I found admirable.
The carte offers 3 courses for £65. I chose four courses, and was delighted by them all. My opening dish of roasted scallops, with white asparagus, salted grapes, white port and verjus butter, was wonderfully delicate. Then Anjou pigeon, with marinated foie gras and warm apple chutney, made me smile with pleasure at the brilliance of both its conception and its execution. And the pleasure intensified with the main course of loin of venison – tender and full of flavour – with oxtail and pumpkin risotto fritters, curly kale, sloe gin and chocolate sauce. And this gastronomic symphony ended with a bang – a superbly indulgent banana tart, with iced honeycomb parfait and bitter chocolate sorbet.
With the gourmet menu, I decided to try the paired glasses of wine (£34). This is not something I normally do. I am with Angelo Gaja, the great Italian producer, who told me – at a rather grand tutored wine tasting, of all occasions – that the only proper way to appreciate a good wine was to share the whole bottle with a friend. Still, from the five glasses poured for me by the sommelier Christophe Pelaud-Mailly (pictured), I did note the excellence of the red from the Languedoc – youthful, tannic and jammy, with some residual sweetness (Mas Bruguière, La Grenadière, Pic St Loup, 2004).
