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PORTOFINO
HOTEL SPLENDIDO
As usual, the Royce made heavy weather of the steep hill up to the entrance. Only when she arrived, did she relax – remembering, correctly, that now she could have a few days of rest, tucked snugly into the hotel garage, next to some new Bentley and Aston Martin friends. For, when I felt the need to go down to the port to sit and watch the day trippers find their way to the Gucci shop (yes, the village is ever-so-slightly up-market), I could rely on the hotel shuttle for the five minute journey.
As you approach your accommodation along the narrow corridors, you have no hint of what awaits on the other side of your door. Large, light and airy, the air-conditioned rooms of The Splendido are models of what every luxury hotel should offer. I walked into my hallway and instantly liked the colour scheme of white, with delicate painted highlights of blue, pink and yellow. Ahead was the door to the bathroom, to the left was the bed-sitting room. The latter was about 20 feet square, with a wooden floor and a pretty rug of the Aubusson type. The silks covering the sofa, the armchair and the three upright chairs took up the colours of the décor. In front of one of the mirrored alcoves was a round dining table. Lighting was provided by 5 table lamps (the two bedside ones being dimmable), a standard lamp and two spotlights. But where was the television and music centre? I touched a button by my bed, and up it rose from within a mirrored cabinet.
I should pause here to mention the staff. Under the leadership of Managing Director, Maurizio Saccani, they make an excellent team, combining efficiency, discretion and friendliness. I discovered that several of the Restaurant staff had worked at the London Ritz, always a good sign. So many gave me exceptional service, but I should mention the ever-solicitous Restaurant Manager, Fabrizio Zarattini, and the maitre d’, Luca Calvia. The latter went out of his way, bringing an indoor chair out onto the terrace, to ensure that my ailing back was comfortable.
I breakfasted on the restaurant terrace. I also dined there. In the evening it achieved the impossible by being even more charming than it had been earlier. On each pink tablecloth were glasses by Riedel (the Vinum range), crockery from Limoges and a single, flickering candle. The waiters, in black bow ties and beige jackets, carefully refolded the napkins of those who left the table. In the distance the floodlit bell-tower of the church above Portofino provided the focal point of the darkening panorama. From the bar came the sound of a piano, playing, ‘As Time Goes By’. “You must remember this…” Yes, I would remember this.
When the time came for me to fetch the Royce from the garage, I could sense that she did not want to leave. Nor did I. This palace in Portofino is that sort of place. You always want to stay on that little bit longer. That is why so many of us cannot wait for our next visit. We know, like Alessandro, that at the Hotel Splendido the joy continues.
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© Francis Bown 2003
‘The joy continues.’ These marvellous words were said to me by Alessandro, a charming waiter from Rapallo. He works in Portofino – 25 miles from Genoa and a few miles from his own home town – at one of the finest hotels in the world. I expect he has said them to many of his customers, and with good reason. For few establishments strive so keenly for perfection and none are blessed with this most perfect of locations. My first picture illustrates the truth of Alessandro’s words. I am sniffing the fragrance of a flower in the lovely garden of the hotel. The sun is shining, an occasional bee, laden with nectar, buzzes slowly by and round about are happy fellow guests, enjoying the quietness of a summer’s afternoon. Here is joy, indeed, at the Hotel Splendido.
Perched high on a hill above everyone’s ideal of a small Italian seaside village, this blessed plot was first used by monks. They abandoned their monastery in the 16th century, exhausted by the attacks of Saracen pirates. Three hundred years later the building was restored as a summer home by the Baron Baratta. Only in 1901 did it become an hotel. Immediately, it began to attract the rich and famous, and its registers started to fill with the names of those who wanted the very best – folk like the Duke of Windsor, Humphrey Bogart and Rex Harrison. And still they come to its 64 rooms, the persons of good taste and discernment. Among whom, of course, I include myself.
Inside the entrance lobby, pictured, one immediately feels that sense of refinement and comfort which permeates the entire hotel. This is not a place of vulgar ostentation, but of real luxury. (I found this notice in my room: “Mobile phones are strictly forbidden in all public areas of the hotel”. Good.) But look at the picture carefully. You will see to the right of the Reception desk a long-case clock. I examined it. It was made by James Leicester of Drury Lane, London – who, I later discovered, was active in London from 1710 to 1729, at which latter date the poor fellow went bankrupt. In how many other hotels on the European mainland would you find a fine 18th century English clock? Sadly, it has stopped at 1.30. I spoke to the Director of The Splendido, the suave and engaging Mr Ermes de Megni, and I have hopes that, by the time of my next visit, it might be ticking once more.
So it was up to my apartment on the 2nd floor. Room 228 is an Executive Junior Suite, and therefore 2,050 to 2,325 euros a night, half-board for two, according to season. The half-board arrangement is usual here, and it is remarkably civilized. Guests can choose anything from the breakfast carte, and as many courses as they wish from the dinner carte. As even the former includes fillet of beef and pancakes, I think I can safely say that no guest has ever gone hungry at this hotel.
Two French windows led to my two terraces. The view (pictured) was ravishing. How could it not be a painting? The dark greenery, the castle on the hill, the sparkling blue sea, the masts of the white yachts, the miniature bay… surely some clever Impressionist had long ago ordered this medley of shapes and pigments? But no – there it was before my eyes. Sitting with a pot of tea, with such wonder through the balustrade, brought me moments of profound contentment.
My bathroom (pictured) also stirred within me thoughts of the Platonic Ideal. All bathrooms should refer to this bathroom. Within a hall of polished wood and grey marble, lit by 15 spotlights and 6 wall lights, were two wash basins, a separate loo and a separate shower and a large bath tub, above which a fish opened its mouth in mosaic. Here, too, was the wardrobe and the dressing area, in which I found my safe. To fill the bath, I had simply to set the temperature on the dial and turn the tap. Then I had my choice of toiletries from Bulgari, Molton Brown and Penhaligon. No one goes short of soap at The Splendido.
Some of the more filling dishes available at breakfast have already been mentioned. They are cooked to order. The fruit on the morning buffet table I found to be of exceptional quality, so I fear that I rather gorged myself on dishes of melon, pineapple, raspberries, wild strawberries and blueberries. Still, these are all jolly healthy, are they not? And so were the glasses of freshly squeezed grape juice. These delights were accompanied by good coffee, brought in pots of white porcelain.
I will pick out the highlights of the meals I enjoyed from Chef Corrado Corti’s kitchen. (If you are not on the half-board arrangement, you will need to allow around 100 euros for 4 courses.) Sautéed local red mullet with tomato sauce and olive oil croutons was well conceived. Lobster and prawn salad with rosemary-flavoured olive oil provided a most appealing combination of tastes. Linguine with pesto, potatoes and French beans was a brilliant mixture of textures. Grilled fillet of beef, with fried onions, chips and Béarmaise sauce (a dish cooked at my request – the kitchen is happy to accommodate such fancies) was brilliantly done. And the puddings are properly naughty: I loved the tiramisù and I could have cheered aloud over the ‘cappuccino’ and meringue with cinnamon ice cream. I ate well here.
The wine list is divided into two parts. The ‘ordinary’ volume offers about 250 wines (mostly Italian and French) and runs in price from 28 euros for a white Tuscan to 5,000 euros for the 1998 Pétrus. (All the wine prices are subject to an extra 10% for V.A.T.) Grapes and their percentages are detailed. The other volume is entitled ‘Great Wines and Unique Vintages’. All its 200 wines are Italian, and comments and scores are given from the Wine Spectator. Here Mr Gaja’s name features prominently – his 1990 Barbaresco Sorì Tildin is 1,050 euros. Some older vintages of the super Tuscans look tempting: 1995 Luce (375), 1997 Ornellaia (665), 1985 Sassicaia (2,660) and 1988 Tignanello (300).
From my own drinking, I would commend to you a charming and open white from Tuscany with hints of lime (Vernaccia di san Gimignano Riserva Vigna a Solatio, Falchini, 2006 – 28 euros), and a very dry Umbrian red, with a nose of black cherries and damp cellar (Rubesco Torgiano Rosso, Lungarotti, 1998 – 31 euros).