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VENICE HOTEL DANIELI
Like Caesar’s Gaul, The Danieli is divided into three parts. The oldest of the three palazzi is in the middle, and contains the entrance from the street. This doorway is tiny, and the splendours within are therefore unexpected. The entrance hall might be a film set: a spectacular assembly of marble columns, stone arches, a sweeping staircase and huge chandeliers of Murano crystal. Here one certainly knows one has ‘arrived’. Those who built on this lavish scale in the 14th century clearly knew how to make a statement about power and wealth. Their family name was Dandolo. The location of their palace, right next to that of the Doge himself, indicates that they were people of considerable status. Even so, Giuseppe dal Niel, when he opened his hotel in this building in 1840, preferred to call it by his own name – or rather, by his nickname, Danieli.
In my customary, helpful way, I will offer two modest suggestions to make this accommodation even better. First, the bottom drawers in the wardrobe might be removed, to facilitate the hanging of longer garments, like dresses and overcoats. And second, a hook might be provided in the little hallway – for one’s hat and umbrella.
Each morning it was with a sense of excitement that I pressed the button to take up the blinds and to reveal this ravishing panorama. And I did not need to abandon it for breakfast (52ε), for the hotel restaurant was immediately above my apartment. (Many hotels in Venice have their dining rooms on the ground floor, and then the flooding does create problems.) The maitre d’ at breakfast was the excellent Rosario, who showed me each morning to a corner table, with a vantage point which enabled me to see an additional church – the domed extravagance which is Santa Maria della Salute. To my green tablecloth I brought from the buffet – in fine white crockery – prosciutto and melon, bacon, scrambled egg, sausages and mushrooms and chunks of really sweet pineapple. And the waiter brought to me pots of good coffee and glasses of tip-top spremuta d’arancia. (It is now my custom always to request this fresh squeezing of oranges.) Once Rosario – kind chap – had, at my request, changed the canned music from ‘pop’ to classical, my days at The Danieli started very well indeed.
Chef Gian Nicola Colucci offers a menu of traditional dishes, skilfully cooked and carefully presented. I certainly enjoyed a meal of Culatello ham, with interesting grilled polenta, tagliolini with black truffle, superbly tasty lamb chops with herbs and a satisfying raspberry tower with raspberry mousse and pistaccio ice cream. (Allow around 140ε for four courses.)
When it was time to leave, the waters had risen again, so that it was impossible for the water taxi to get to The Danieli’s private landing stage at the side of the building. I was therefore escorted along the raised walkways to the public taxi rank and there lifted into the boat by two of the hotel porters. No part of me had touched the water; nor had I been obliged to alter my plans in any way throughout my entire stay. That is what comes of staying at such a very, very good hotel. No, I shall never tire of Venice. And I shall never tire of The Danieli.
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ADDRESSES
HOTEL DANIELI
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© Francis Bown 2003
I never tire of Venice. Over the past twenty years, I have visited La Serenissima perhaps forty times. I have seen her in the sunshine, in the rain, in the mist and in the snow. Yet I have never before seen her flooded. Of course, it sounds like a feeble joke: “I went to Venice, and it was flooded.” Exceptionally high tides do occasionally occur, however, and then the city – or, at least, the lower part of the city, which includes the Piazza San Marco – floods. In most places a flood would be an unmitigated disaster. But the Venetians are not only artistic and aesthetically sensitive; they are also clever and practical. I was impressed by the speed with which raised walkways appeared, to preserve the citizenry’s footwear from the gently lapping waves. And I was even more impressed by the fact that, despite the ground floor of my hostelry – at high tide – being under at least a foot of water, I was not inconvenienced to the slightest degree. But then, I was staying at one of the great hotels of the world – The Danieli.
The calm efficiency of the staff, as they ensured that the guests were able to go about their business as if nothing were happening, was a joy to behold. Indeed, if the true measure of an hotel is not how it behaves when all is well, but how it copes in the face of difficulties, The Danieli has the stature of a giant. If I were given to cheering – which I am not – I would have raised three cheers for the stout fellows of The Danieli, and they would have deserved them.
Given its magnificent location and its commitment to luxury, the establishment prospered, and the second palace was built (on the right) in the 19th century. Finally, in the 1940s, the third part of the trinity arrived on the left. It was here I was billeted. This newest building has recently been renovated, in a style which displays fully the Venetian love of red and gold, while still manifesting a pleasing lightness of touch. As soon as I stepped from the lift at the fourth floor, onto a spacious landing with pieces of high quality furniture, I decided that the renovation had been a real success.
Within room 376 (a ‘Deluxe Double Lagoon View’ and therefore 1,140ε a night for two, breakfast extra) my judgement was confirmed. The designer, Jacques Garcia, has done a fine job. Although this air-conditioned chamber was not large – I estimated about 13 feet square (if you need something a bit larger, I would recommend the Doge’s Suite, pictured, at 4,000ε a night) – a real sense of luxury was created by the mahogany panelling (up to the dado rail), the polished wooden floor, the curtains of crimson satin, the feathered cornice in brown and gold and the figured damask on the bowed doors of the fitted wardrobe. Two upright chairs upholstered in red velvet provided the seating and three (dimmable) table lamps and two reading lights over the bed provided the lighting. Of course, there was a private safe and, of course, the blinds were operated by electricity. My bathroom was clad in black and white marble, was lit by spotlights, and had enough space for a tub of decent size, one wash basin, a loo, a bidet and that most frightening of machines – a pair of scales.
Best of all, I need hardly record, was the view. Through the French window, I had my very own terrace, on which had been placed a table and two chairs. Thus could I sit and gaze across the waters to the monastery church of San Giorgio Maggiore and to the Redentore church, and be reminded yet again of the genius of Andrea Palladio. How much the world owes to this son of a miller, born in Padua in 1508. Architecture would be infinitely poorer without him. The Danieli affords its privileged guests the opportunity of looking out upon two of his finest works.
And they concluded in fine style, too, for it was to the same Ristorante Terrazza I returned to dine in the evenings. This used to be one large room, but it has been turned into a number of smaller chambers, with much use of mirrored walls and ceilings. Decorated in warm colours and lit by wall lights with red shades, these spaces I found welcoming and intimate. Now the tablecloth had turned to gold, and upon it sat good Italian glassware marked ‘SF’ and a single pink rose in a vase. The genial maitre d’, Giorgio Maniero, ensured that the service was both friendly and efficient.
The wine list, with about 150 offerings, gives the grapes used for each wine, which is helpful, and ranges in price from 27ε for a local white to 600ε for Cristal rosé champagne. The usual top Italians appear – Sassicaia 2005 (240ε), Solaia 2003 (210ε) and Tignanello 2005 (140ε) – but there are also some very interesting ‘foreigners’, like 2002 Hess Estate cabernet from California (92ε). From the latter group, I can heartily recommend one of the white burgundies, the Puligny-Montrachet by Chanson Père et Fils (79ε), which I found to be nutty and wonderfully structured. (Unfortunately, I did not record the vintage.) From the Tuscan reds, I can direct you to another beauty, made from cabernet franc (Paleo Bolgheri Rosso Superiore, La Macchiole, 2002 - 98ε), which was full of ripe black and red fruit, with distinctive chocolate tones and a tannic tingle. You can certainly drink well at La Terrazza.
