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SWITZERLAND GENEVA HÔTEL D’ANGLETERRE
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, Windows. I therefore took myself off into the latter, empty room, to sit in solitary splendour. I am pleased to report that the waiters and waitresses accommodated my solitary desires with the utmost courtesy and kindness – bringing me the crockery and cutlery I needed, turning off the canned music in my area and fetching my hot food from the kitchen. This included mushrooms on toast and, on one morning, a lovely piece of grilled sea bass. In a hotel called ‘Angleterre’, it is right that there should be served – also in the restaurant – that most English of meals, afternoon tea. For 54 francs I enjoyed this noble institution, with sandwiches, scones, sliced cake, pastries and a crème brûlée – all washed down with a glass of Ruinart champagne and a pot of Earl Grey tea.
A duet of asparagus, with a perfectly poached egg, pineapple jus and mixed herbs, was prettily served on a round, white plate and afforded textures and tastes which were both subtle and delicate. The Bolognaise of lobster which followed was even better, being intelligently and effectively combined with green mango, potato spaghetti and lemon butter. But best of all was the main course – pan-fried rib of veal in pesto oil, with mashed wild garlic and rhubarb. This was a terrific piece of meat, both tender and flavoursome, which was lifted to magical heights by the garlic. My concluding rhubarb and strawberry soufflé was a fine end to a very enjoyable meal.
Sommelière Catherine Gasparini (pictured, with your correspondent) hails from Besançon. I was truly delighted by the wines she recommended. With the asparagus, a glass of floral Swiss muscat was ideal, and the South African sauvignon blanc (Walber Bay, 2009 – 85frs) certainly had the robust structure to stand up to the lobster. The star, however, came from the Rhone and was the perfect partner for the veal: a brilliant Côte Rôtie, with a ravishing nose of damson and raspberry and lashings of smooth ripe fruit in the mouth (Dom. Bonnefond, ‘Les Rochains’, 2006 – 230frs). This was decanted, and rightly decanted. I was truly grateful to the knowledgeable Mademoiselle Gasparini for her recommendations. Yes, the Hôtel d’Angleterre is small for a luxury city hotel. But, in this instance, small is most definitely beautiful. For the Hôtel d’Angleterre combines intimacy and exclusiveness with all the prestige and elegance of a grand palace.
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HÔTEL D’ANGLETERRE |
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© Francis Bown 2003
With just 45 rooms, the Hôtel d’Angleterre – considered by many to be the best place to stay in Geneva – 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. And now it was your correspondent.
I was taken in one of the two tiny lifts up to the first floor, to room 125, a ‘Deluxe Lake View’ and therefore 990 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. The apartment itself was remarkable both for its quietness (the road between the hotel and the Lake can sometimes be busy, but not a sound of the motor cars could be heard in my room) and for its view. 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. 
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. 
My bedroom was a welcoming size (about 16 feet by ten, I estimated), and was decorated in warm colours, with brown suede silk on the walls and a chandelier of interlocked horns. A large glass bowl of miniature chocolate bars 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 Deborah. I think she must have been the kind lady who put the 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 mahogany cabinet in the corner. (I find my inability to master even the simplest of controls less galling if they are out of view.)
From the moment of my arrival, the friendliness of the staff struck me. Jacques Favre, the General Manager is, clearly, the head of a well-run establishment. The members of his team 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.
Indeed, all the breakfast comestibles were of the highest quality. From the kitchen came silver pots of strong coffee. And from the buffet I secured melon and prosciutto, orange juice, Corn Flakes, croissants, slices of crusty bread and bowls of absolutely delicious fruit salad. 48 francs seemed a modest price to pay for this morning treat.
I returned again 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 and Ercuis cutlery sparkled under the spotlights as I eased myself onto the banquette of shiny black leather. The service from the waiters and waitresses in white aprons – orchestrated by the maitre d’ Nicolas Jouandet (pictured) from Biarritz – was correct and efficient. 
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 which begin at 72 francs (for three courses). My four courses from the carte cost around 180 francs.
The wine list has about 350 offerings, whizzes around the world to good effect and is strongest in French bottles. Prices start at 50 francs, for a Loire white and end at 5,067 francs for the 1967 Yquem. Other bottles to catch my eye were: 2000 Pétrus (4,500frs), 2000 Cheval Blanc (2,800frs), 2000 Margaux (1,450frs), 2006 Sassicaia (380frs), 1997 Ornellaia (630frs), 2003 Penfolds Grange (830frs) and the 2004 Drouhin Montrachet (780frs). 
