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FLORENCE (FIESOLE) HOTEL VILLA SAN MICHELE Actually, even if it were an empty ruin, this building would still attract the attention of the discerning. For its façade was designed by the great Michelangelo himself. As my taxi climbed the hill to Fiesole, the small cathedral town in which the Villa San Michele is located, I wondered whether my first glimpse of the entrance would disappoint. It did not. Graceful, perfectly proportioned and wonderfully inviting, this was as radiant as the smile on the face of the gentleman who stepped forward to open the door into the chapel. The chapel? Yes, the reception hall is in the chapel of the old Franciscan monastery. The sanctuary and High Altar are still there, although the paintings by Old Masters have, sadly, long since gone off to museums. Still, the space was as it must have been for the friars: high and cool and serene.
When the Franciscans settled here in the 15th century, they chose their site well. From it the whole of Florence, framed by its surroundings hills, is visible. Dominating all is the great dome of the Duomo, at this distance looking almost modest. The city is actually quite near (the hotel shuttle ’bus takes about ten minutes to reach its centre), but its urban noise and bustle are in another world, far removed from the quiet serenity of the Villa San Michele and its terraced gardens.
Off the hallway was a small kitchenette, which was useful when I wanted to make my own pot of tea. The sitting room was large enough for a sofa, an easy chair and a modest dining table. It was dominated, however, by a large demi-lune window, through which the perfect panorama of Florence yielded endless visual delight. I found it pleasing to linger at the writing table, perched – in the manner of a Renaissance prince – on a high-backed chair upholstered in velvet, and look out over the city. I suppose the prince would not have had a fax machine to hand; nor would he have been cooled by a breeze from the air-conditioning vent. But he would have been accustomed to a tiled floor and a handsome rug, and he would surely have liked, amidst the muted colours, the splash of gold provided by the wall lights.
My ablutions were performed in a bathroom which maintained these high standards. Spotlights shone down upon a tub both deep and wide. There were, of course, two wash basins, a separate shower and a separate loo (with a bidet). As a pernickety traveller too often irritated by the penny-pinching supply of toiletries in my hotel bathrooms, I was particularly pleased with the bountiful supply of soaps from different manufacturers. I liked, too, the soft, dark gold bath robes by Frette. As elsewhere at the Villa San Michele, I had the sense, in this bathroom, that real intelligence and effort was being put into ensuring that my surroundings were both comfortable and convenient. I am, of course, far too discreet to mention by name the royal personage who had just been staying at the hotel and the ‘pop star’ who was there during my own visit. Instead, let me play the game which always amuses me and put together the names of three guests from the past: Princess Margaret, Alec Guinness and Margaret Thatcher. What a game of charades they might have enjoyed after dinner…
Remarkably, it was nearly as good in the mornings. For I returned to the Loggia for my breakfasts. (My tip here, for the best view, is to sit on the table which is to the left of the arch you select.) Cold food is taken from the buffet. My choice each day comprised cornflakes, slices of melon, chunks of pineapple, segments of pear, croissants and marmalade. Hot dishes are brought by the waiters. I had mushrooms, tomatoes and crisp bacon. All these dishes, hot and cold, were excellent. I encountered many members of staff. Each one was eager, courteous and friendly – which prompts me to congratulate the Managing Director, Maurizio Saccani, for he it is who must set the tone. And that tone has a proper hint of formality. I was delighted to read that “mobile telephones are strictly forbidden in all public areas”. I was encouraged, too, by the note in my suite that, while “due to the high temperatures, gentlemen are no longer required to wear a jacket for dinner”, “t-shirts are not allowed”. In the event, of course, I wore both a jacket and a starched collar for dinner – but then, that is my way. And the Villa San Michele is very much my sort of place: exclusive, luxurious and immaculately maintained. My fascination with Florence now includes this hotel masterpiece. |
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HOTEL VILLA SAN MICHELE
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© Francis Bown 2003
Like any proper Englishman, I am fascinated by Florence. Surely no city in the world can have more artistic masterpieces per square yard. Many lives have been devoted to the study of Florentine art, and I would have been happy if mine had been one of them. Instead, I have contented myself – like most of my fellow countrymen – with the occasional visit. But now I have another reason to return. For I have just stayed at the famous Villa San Michele – an hotel which is so beautiful and so restorative to the spirit that it, too, must qualify as a work of art.
Here I first encountered the combination of high art, tasteful luxury and courteous service to which I was to become accustomed over the next few days. Immediately upon entering, I was impressed by the fine furniture, the expensive fabrics and the careful lighting. Everything was as I like it – immaculate. Here was attention to detail on a grand scale. I wandered through the public rooms and found myself in the Cenacolo Room, with its fresco of The Last Supper, painted by Nicodemo Ferrucci in 1642. I noticed that Judas Iscariot was seated on the right, identifiable by his lack of a halo.
I walked through the gardens on my way to my billet. My suite comprised the first floor of the monastic orangery. This was room 44 (3,300 euros a night, bed and breakfast for two). It was spacious, impressively equipped, and entirely to my taste.
Through double doors was the bedroom. Here was another demi-lune window, the same perfect view, another sofa, a wrought iron chandelier of 12 lights and a television which, at the pressing of a bedside button, rose majestically from its cabinet. And further delight was beyond another door: my own terrace. Here I could recline in luxurious privacy, soothed by the sound of a tiny waterfall in the cliffs behind, and watch as the sun made its way across the Tuscan hills.
And, talking of dinner, what about the food at the Villa San Michele? Chef Attilio di Fabrizio (pictured) worked for four years at the Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence, one of Italy’s finest restaurants. I found his food carefully and accurately prepared, based on ingredients of high quality and full of clear and well-combined flavours. It is, therefore, thoroughly enjoyable. I tucked into a typical dinner of four courses (allow around 100 euros): a finely balanced salad of wild greens, Parmesan, walnuts, capers and herb dressing, soft ravioli filled with aubergine and goat’s cheese, served with a cream sauce with thyme, medallions of veal with citrus fruits and a crunchy ‘capuccino’ meringue with cinnamon ice cream.
The wine list, apart from the champagne, is Italian and is divided into sections with titles such as “Well structured red wines” and “Great Wines and Unique Vintages”. Tasting notes and scores out of 100 (from Mr Parker’s Wine Spectator) are supplied for the grander bottles. Prices range from 29 euros for a 2004 Greco di Tufo to 2,500 euros for the 1985 Sassicaia. The 2004 Planeta chardonnay from Sicily is 58 euros and the 1997 Luce is 378 euros. For my white, I tried the 1999 Cervaro della Sala from Antinori (135 euros), a blend of 80% chardonnay and 20% grechetto – gold, with hints of sherbet on the nose, honey in the mouth and with a dry aftertaste. My red was from the hotel’s own vineyard at Gaiole In Chianti. Named ‘50-50’, because it is 50% merlot and 50% sangiovese, in its 1995 vintage (140 euros) this turned out to be full-bodied, tannic and packed with ripe black fruit.
This eating and drinking was done in the Loggia Restaurant. Here I sat next to an ancient stone balustrade, with a golden tablecloth before me, and looked across a hillside of poplars, over green fields and on to the city of Florence. The pianist played ‘Dance In The Old-fashioned Way’ and I thought that there could be few lovelier places in the world in which to dine. Schott glasses, Christofle cutlery, a single candle on each table, waiters in pale grey jackets, 
the splendid maitre d’ Vittorio Dall’Ò in black tie – all contributed to an atmosphere which was truly enchanting.