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HÔTEL D’ANGLETERRE
With just 45 rooms, the d’Angleterre certainly is small for a luxury city hotel. Built in 1872 by a Swiss architect, Anthony Krafft, it fits discreetly into the range of similar buildings on the quai du Mont-Blanc. Indeed, discretion is one its prized characteristics. It is certainly offered to those many important guests who climb the steps from the street to immerse themselves in salons decorated with silk brocades, fine marble and gleaming ormolu. The founder of the Scouts, Lord Baden Powell, used to stay here, as did Tarzan actor Johnny Weissmuller (although probably not with Cheetah) and the man who brought the Soviet Union into the modern world, Michaïl Gorbachov.
In my hallway, the door to the bedroom was straight ahead, that to the bathroom was on the right and that to the walk-in wardrobe was on the left. Evidence of attention to detail was all around. In the bathroom – a confection of striped wallpaper, beige tiles and brown marble – were Penhaligon toiletries, two wash basins, a tub of adequate size and white, fluffy towels. In the wardrobe were lots of hangers (how often am I annoyed in hotels to find a shortage of these essential items?) and, of course, my own safe.
This was particularly evident at breakfast. I am not one of Nature’s morning people. I do not care to be in close proximity to my fellow guests when I am breaking my fast. And I like silence. The hotel’s breakfast room is separate from, but adjoins the main restaurant. I therefore took myself off into the latter, empty room, to sit in solitary splendour. Did the waiters and waitresses look aggrieved – as they certainly would in some establishments? Not a bit of it. They accommodated my solitary desires with the utmost courtesy and kindness – rushing to bring the crockery and cutlery I needed and keen to fetch my hot food from the kitchen. I awarded then ten out of ten. And the food was jolly good, too. From the kitchen came silver pots of strong coffee and crispy bacon which was exceptionally tasty. And from the buffet I secured melon and prosciutto, orange juice, Rice Crispies, croissants and bowls of stewed pears and stewed tangerines – all of the highest quality. 45 francs seemed a modest price to pay for these excellent comestibles.
Roasted lobster on a potato galette, with salad, fresh herbs and a matelote sauce was well-conceived and well-executed. Indeed, the lobster meat was exceptionally tender and full of flavour. From the ‘Classics’ section of the menu I then had some fish from the lake outside – caught by Mr Serge Guidoux of Lausanne. These perch were small and numerous (this was a main course dish) and cooked meunière. They needed a little salt, which I was happy to supply, and then they were delicious. The chateaubriand, carved and served by the table, was a lovely piece of beef, cooked pink and served with vegetables in garlic oil. The sauce was not the usual béarnaise but a lemon sabayon. I finished with a clever variation of strawberries and rhubarb.
Yes, in Geneva small is beautiful. The diminutive Hôtel d’Angleterre has all the prestige and elegance of a grand palace. It is remarkable that such a good thing can be so small.
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HÔTEL D’ANGLETERRE |
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© Francis Bown 2003
In Geneva small is beautiful. This handsome town by a lake is famous for its watches. Here you can buy some of the most complicated (and expensive) timepieces yet devised by the mind of man. That so much mechanical complexity can be crammed into such a tiny case approaches the miraculous. I have never myself been a regular wearer of wristwatches, usually having preferred – even as a boy – the more robust charms of a pocket watch on a chain, but I can understand why my friends become excited over their latest Brequet or Patek Philippe. It is remarkable that such a good thing can be so small. And that could be a fitting tribute to what many regard as Geneva’s finest hostelry – the Hôtel d’Angleterre. 
I was taken in one of the two tiny lifts up to the fourth (and top) floor, to room 425, a ‘Deluxe Lake View’ and therefore 880-980 Swiss francs a night for two, breakfast extra. Even the few steps from the lift door to my billet were pleasurable, for I was surrounded by wallpaper of dark green and highly polished mahogany doors. I would strongly recommend that you choose a room on the top two floors. There is a bar at the bottom of the hotel, the Leopard Lounge, which has live music on certain nights of the week. If, like me, you are a light sleeper, you will find that there is absolute silence to be enjoyed on the third and fourth floors. Also, the view from the higher rooms is not obscured by the trees outside. I found it a real joy, after a night of sound sleep, to press the button by the side of my bed to raise the shutter and then to pad over to the window to see the morning sunlight, glinting on the waters of Lac Léman and catching the snow on top of mighty Mont Blanc in the far distance. 
My bedroom was lilac – used for the carpet, the velvet of the easy chairs and the damask on the walls – a colour which seemed to emphasize the sense of space. A glass bowl of pot-pourri and a vase of dried pine kernels imparted a homely feel to the elegance of furniture in the Directoire style. I liked the note on my leather-topped writing table which told me that my ‘room attendant’ was Lydia. I think she must have been the kind lady who put two duvets under the bottom sheet of the bed to ensure the softness I needed for my failing back. There were, of course, lots of technological toys with which I might have played, but I was actually quite pleased that most of them were hidden in a handsome wooden cabinet. (I find my inability to master even the simplest of controls less galling if they are out of view.)
A pot of really good Earl Grey tea was brought to my room as I was settling in. The hotel, I am pleased to report, has found a supplier of really good tea leaves. The friendliness of the waiter struck me. He was entirely typical of the team commanded by Jacques Favre, the General Manager. Members of his staff are numerous, efficient and helpful. They hurried to open doors, smiled and – very important – remembered my name. These modest actions – or the lack of them – make such a difference to the tone of any hotel, and the tone of the Hôtel d’Angleterre is very good indeed.
I returned to the Windows Restaurant for dinner. The name of this dining room suggests that its chief feature is the view of the Lake through the plate glass. But, in the evening, I found there was much to engage the eye within, as well as without. My picture conveys some sense of the opulence and sophistication of the setting. Lots of cleverly placed mirrors multiplied the patterns of black and white and silver and provided a sense of happy theatricality. It seemed entirely appropriate that many of the pictures on the walls were of the legendary cabaret star, Mistinguett. Villeroy and Boch glassware sparkled under the spotlights as I eased myself onto the banquette of shiny black leather. Then came a surprising reminder of Blighty. It turned out that Mark Smith, the solicitous Assistant Restaurant Manager, had been born in the Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate. 
Chef Philippe Audonnet (pictured) comes from Bordeaux and has worked in some of France’s greatest kitchens. Names like Guy Savoy, The Paris Ritz and Taillevent appear on his curriculum vitae. I knew therefore that my meal would be memorable. Monsieur Audonnet offers set meals at 70 francs (for three courses) and 120 francs (for five courses). My four courses from the carte cost around 180 francs.
The wine list is strongest in French bottles. Prices start at 45 francs, for a Swiss aligoté, but naturally zoom upwards for great bottles from France. 1990 Lafite is 2,500 francs, 1982 Pichon Lalande is 2,600 francs and – for the burgundy fans – 1996 Bonnes Mares, de Vogüé, is 1,250 francs. For those of you who like the reds of Italy, California and Australia, you can have 1991 Solaia for 800 francs, 1997 Opus One for 1,350 francs and 2001 Penfolds Grange for 1,050 francs. 
Sommelier Benjamin Wolf hails from Columbia. I was truly delighted by the two bottles he recommended. For my white burgundy, I asked him for a wine which would be round and fat, with a muscular structure and lots of buttered toast. And that is precisely what I found in the brilliant 2006 Pouilly-Fuissé he brought to the table (Dom. Ferret, Tête de Cru, Les Perrières – 150 francs). For my red I wanted to be surprised, and surprised I was. The Spanish wine from the Bierzo area was intriguingly ‘muddy’ in the nose; in the mouth its tannins were soft and its black fruit was gorgeously ripe (El Castro de Valtuille, 2004 – 86 francs). It was an ideal partner for the beef. I was most grateful to the knowledgeable Mr Wolf for his recommendations.