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VENICE HOTEL GRITTI PALACE Andrea Gritti, Doge of Venice, built his wonderful mansion in 1525. It has been an hotel for the last one hundred years. Signor Gritti chose his site well. Even at my painfully slow rate of locomotion, I found that I could be at the epicentre of Venetian life, St Mark’s Square, in five or six minutes. From the airport, my journey to the hotel took slightly longer – 25 minutes. (This was in a water taxi and cost 80 euros. These euros were well spent. Do not compromise your self-indulgence by using the cheaper public ferry. It takes forever and is horribly noisy. Sometimes a private launch from the hotel is available – the hotel will supply details.) The Gritti has, of course, its own entrance for those who arrive by water. I strode in through the double doors and found myself at once in the most delightful surroundings.
With the formalities of arrival dispatched with prompt and friendly efficiency by the folk at the Reception desk, I was led into one of the tiny lifts for the ascent to the third floor. If you study the picture of the exterior, you can see the window of Room 316. It is the one at the top left-hand corner of the building. From here, I was able to look over the gentle waves at one of mankind’s most beautiful creations: the swirling stone baroque of Longhena’s masterpiece, the church of Santa Maria della Salute. Around the corner were my two other windows, so that some of the architectural gems further up the canal were also within my gaze. These views alone made the price of my apartment – classified as a ‘Double Grand Canal’ and therefore 890 to 1,164 euros a night for two, according to season – seem a real bargain. But there was yet more to enjoy. In my hallway were the doors to the walk-in wardrobe (with a safe), the bathroom (with walls and floor of black marble) and the bedroom. This last was fully 12 feet high. From its ceiling hung a chandelier of clear Murano crystal. Sweeping down around the windows were many yards of heavy red damask, dramatically swagged and tailed. About this spacious chamber of pale blue were pieces of antique furniture in polished wood. I particularly liked the chest of drawers and the large wardrobe, both in a curvaceous style of the 18 th century. And, best of all, above the beds was a large Old Master oil painting in a gilded Venetian frame. The identity of the lady depicted was not obvious to me. She sat in a classical garden, held a baby boy in her lap and had flowers in her hair. Perhaps she was Fecundity. This billet had all the old-fashioned style and comfort I wanted in Venice. On the television I found a radio channel with classical music. It was playing Smetana. I sat back in the armchair and let his full-bodied melodies surround me. Happy to be in room 316, happy to be in the Gritti Palace, happy to be in Venice, I was lulled by the harmonies into a most pleasant doze.
I myself was full of pleasurable anticipation, for I had already ordered the main part of my meal. For there are several dishes on the menu – in the section called ‘La Cucina dei Doge’ – which are not only for two people but which must also be requested 24 hours in advance. These I commend to you with enthusiasm. The first was sea bass, baked in salt crust. Served by the table, so that there was all the drama of breaking into the pastry case, this brought flesh of a firm texture and a gorgeous sweetness. Delicious. And the roast capon with truffle stuffing was nearly as good. Not a morsel of either was left on my plate. My other two courses were straightforward and well executed: San Daniele ham with melon and a fruit tart from the trolley. This fine repast cost 133 euros. (For those of you who wish to brush up your Italian cooking, the Head Chef of The Gritti – Celestino Giacomello – runs 3-day schools. These include visits and walks conducted by cookery writer Carla Coco. Since you stay at The Gritti for this educational enterprise, I imagine schooldays have seldom been so sybaritic.)
My own wines were recommended by the helpful maitre d’, Davide Spader. Into the decent Schott glasses, he poured two good bottles from the surrounding region. My white was full-bodied, with plenty of toastiness in the mouth and layers of sherbet on the nose (Molamatta, Marco Felluga, 2003 – 40.50 euros). My red yielded a nose of damp oak and lots of ripe black cherries (Venegazzù, Capo di Stato, L.Gasparini, 1999 – 70 euros). I have described the maitre d’ as helpful. And that is the characteristic of the staff at The Gritti – helpfulness. It was much in evidence in my dealings with the Head Concierge, Francesco Santini, who dealt with my numerous queries with the utmost charm and efficiency. And it was there, too, with the (invisible) chambermaids, who ensured that my room was kept spotless and that each night I slipped away to the Land of Nod between crisp, clean sheets of the finest linen. I returned to the Club del Doge for breakfast. Fortified by splendid fruit salad from the buffet and by poached eggs on toast brought to my table by the waiters, I looked out at the Grand Canal and began my mornings with a little prayer of thankfulness for Venice – the City of Extravagance. And, of course, for The Gritti – its Palace of Luxury and Self-Indulgence. |
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© Francis Bown 2003
Venice is a city of extravagance. Its beauty is extravagant and its history is extravagant. No place on earth ravishes the eye and the mind with such shameless excess. Which is why, when you visit, you must embrace with enthusiasm some serious self-indulgence. For you, only the best will do. So take my advice – stay in a palace. And not just any palace. Let it be on the Grand Canal. Let it be packed with antique furniture and costly fabrics. And let it be staffed by those who are used to serving heads-of-state and other such folk who demand constant perfection. Let it, in other words, be one of Italy’s great hotels. Let it be The Gritti. 
Sometimes the public areas of an hotel will impress by their space and their size. Here I found another aesthetic at work: that of the jewel box. The scale is modest (there are only 82 rooms), but the sense of luxury is remarkable. Golds, reds, greens and blues shimmered and glowed, reflected this way and that by mirrored panels. Oil paintings, coloured marbles, finely carved chairs and figured silk brocades – all added their lustre to the rich ensemble. This was my sort of place. (Later, I was to discover that this delicious decorative scheme becomes even more captivating when it is dark outside.) 
But soon it was time for dinner. In starched collar and suit of dark blue chalk-stripe, I arrived at the ground floor restaurant, the Club del Doge. I settled myself into a comfortable fauteuil at a corner table and surveyed the small room. It will become repetitive if I keep talking about jewel boxes – but here was another one. Its ceiling of darkly painted beams made a sharp contrast with all the finery below. Waiters in short green jackets and wing collars attended to the requirements of my fellow diners – who, I am pleased to report, had all made the effort to dress properly. I sensed an atmosphere of respectable enjoyment. 
The wine list is relatively short. Prices range from 28.50 euros for a local white to 378 euros for a 1973 Brunello di Montalcino (Annata Storica). For lovers of bubbly, there is 1996 Dom Perignon for 230 euros. And for devotees of the ‘super-Tuscans’, Tignanello, Solaia and Sassicaia, all from the 1998 vintage, are offered at 170, 240 and 260 euros.