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MILAN GRAND HOTEL ET DE MILAN
Giuseppe Verdi stayed here for more than twenty years, dashing off those works of genius which are still the gems of the operatic repertoire. His portrait is prominently displayed in the hotel (see picture). I have noticed that great artists and musicians often like the fine things of life. Follow in their steps and you will frequently find the best hotel in town. Since it opened its doors in 1863, the Grand Hotel has played host to many of the great and the good. It has aged gracefully – indeed, I suspect that, like a violin by Stradivarius, it has become even sweeter as the years have rolled by. I arrived early and had to wait for my room to be ready. This was no penance, for he public areas of the hotel are sumptuously furnished. I eased myself into an armchair of gilt wood and velvet (see picture) and allowed my eyes to wander over the gilt wall clocks, the painted screens, the ancient oil paintings, the 18 th century walnut bureaux and the carved wall brackets.
Large bathrooms always please me – so here I was pleased. In this chamber of white, veined marble I found 2 wash basins, a tub of the proper size, a separate shower, a bidet and that object which always prods my guilty conscience – a pair of scales. Back in the bedroom, I made the inspection of my bed. This I always do, to see whether there is present the Dreaded Duvet. There it was. I made a call to Housekeeping and a few minutes later it had been changed for blankets, without any fuss. This was an example of the good service and quiet efficiency I encountered throughout the hotel.
Don Carlos is the restaurant for dinner. Named, of course, after one of Mr Verdi’s operas, this is a small, intimate space, the walls of which are covered with pictures relating to the operatic world. I was shown to my table by the Restaurant Manager, Elvis Shehi, a tall, well-dressed gentleman of considerable charm. I sat on my chair of green velvet, noted with approval the white tablecloth, the Spiegelau glasses, the handbag stool and the single, silver candlestick on the table and thought the omens were good. I was not disappointed. Chef Angelo Gangemi cooks traditional Italian food in a modern manner. And he does it very well. He offers a 6 course tasting menu for 75 euros. I chose five courses from the carte (for which you should allow around 100 euros).
About 300 bottles are offered on the wine list, which usefully gives both the grapes and the alcohol level of each wine. Some grand ‘foreigners’ are to be had (1999 Cheval Blanc is 759 euros and 1997 Opus One is 470 euros), but Italy supplies most of the offerings. Prices are not outrageous, with a chardonnay from the Trentino for 20 euros, but naturally you will pay for the famous names from good vintages – 1998 Solaia is 325 euros and 1998 Ornellaia is 320 euros. Sommelier Konstantinos Stayroulakis hails from Greece. He brought me a full-bodied chardonnay from Piedmont, with citrus overtones (Printanie, Poderi A.Conterno, 2004 – 30 euros), and a cabernet sauvignon from the Trentino, full of ripe damsons (Linticlarus Riserva, Tiefenbrunner, 2003 – 44 euros). I enjoyed my visit to the Grand Hotel et de Milan. It is a bastion of Old World comfort and luxury right in the middle of Milan’s musical and sartorial heart. Long may it flourish.
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GRAND HOTEL ET DE MILAN
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© Francis Bown 2003
For the Chairman and Chief Executive of Bown’s Bespoke (
So does the unreconstructed Catholic. (At the 11 o’clock Mass in the vast Gothic cathedral – but a short walk away – the bejewelled mitre of the Cardinal Archbishop was just visible through the fog of incense. Wonderful.) And there, right where I want to be, is my sort of hostelry: an establishment of old-fashioned charm and luxurious comfort – the Grand Hotel et de Milan.
Finally, they settled upon the marble fireplace, a remarkable piece in the Renaissance manner. Surmounted by a carving of a stallion, having a rather difficult time with a serpent (see picture), this fireplace drew me to it several times during the course of my stay, such was its attractiveness and high quality. Less to my taste was the canned ‘pop’ music from the bar, but the pleasant young man there was happy to turn it down for me, so that I could enjoy these lovely surroundings in peace.
Then it was up in the lift – panelled, in the manner of a church sacristy – to the second floor. Room 212 was a junior suite (see picture) and therefore 759 euros a night for two, breakfast extra. I was struck at once by its cool spaciousness, an effect produced by the high ceilings (around 11 feet), the highly polished parquet floor and the colour scheme of cream, light gold and pale green. In the hallway were the wardrobes, containing the safe, and an item I particularly liked – a bentwood hat stand. To the right was the bedroom, a chamber about twenty feet square, with enough seating for eight people. This was interesting seating, too, for some of the chairs (painted, in a classical style) were part of the hotel's original furniture, now restored. Wall brackets supported blue and white vases, around which were hung pictures of ancient Chinese ceremonies. One of the two windows opened onto a small balcony, overlooking the street.
There are two restaurants. The Caruso is bright and white, with columns, crystal chandeliers and a wrought iron balustrade between its two levels. It is open in the mornings and for lunch. Here I enjoyed breakfast (35 euros). The canned music was now of the classical sort, and therefore to be tolerated. From the buffet I obtained dishes of melon, pineapple and Rice Crispies, and from the kitchen the waiters brought to me specially cooked hot dishes. Do not miss the bacon. It is delicious. I finished each day’s breakfast, as I always now do in Italy (because every Italian thinks it is right and proper, and I am a courteous guest), with a cappuccino.
My opening porcini mushrooms, warm and served with a Parmesan foam and pistachio biscuit was a little triumph of tastes and textures and thoroughly enjoyable. My next dish was based upon the date of my visit. For it was the time of the white truffle (which lasts from the end of September to December). Happy the man who eats white truffles. And I was that man. The divine fungus was shaved, at the table, over a simple plate of tagliolini and the excremental aroma of pure bliss wafted to my nostrils. Each mouthful was a joy. The truffle reappeared for the tasty and tender veal fillet, but this time its delicacy was rather pushed aside by the flavour of the meat. From the cheese trolley, I tried just a sliver of Ciabot, a goat’s cheese made in Piedmont, and then I plunged into a final plateful of sheer indulgence – raspberry meringue with Chantilly cream. This was a jolly good meal.