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PORTOFINO HOTEL SPLENDIDO
I paced out the bed-sitting room at about 12 feet by 25 feet. It was certainly large enough to accommodate with ease a two-seater sofa, an easy chair and a round dining table with two chairs, as well as my bed. This last proved too hard for my failing back, so the Housekeeper had the mattress changed – another indication of the level of service at I am, as regular readers will know, a devoted fan of breakfast. Occasionally, it grieves me to notice that fellow guests not only rush through this most important meal, but also dress for it in a way which suggests that they are addicted to the worst excesses of Casualness. There was little of this at The Splendido – and no wonder, for the terrace of the restaurant is a superb spot for one’s morning comestibles.
The news of my ailing back had preceded me – yet another manifestation of The Splendido service –so that, when I was shown to my table by the excellent Restaurant Manager, Santo Aiosa, I found that a special chair and cushion were waiting for me. I settled comfortably and surveyed my surroundings, as the pianist launched into a spirited rendition of Scott Joplin. The tablecloth was yellow and the shirts of the waiters (mine was a fine fellow called Anderson Torres) were white. The glasses were by Riedel. All was exactly as it should have been. And for the Platonic ideal of a luxury hotel do I go to The Splendido. Although, now I reflect upon my sojourn, it occurs to me that perhaps there was one slight imperfection. My picture has not yet been put up in the bar, next to the photographs of Groucho Marx, Orson Welles and other loyal patrons. Still, there is always time, and the absence of my portrait is a good excuse for another visit…
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HOTEL SPLENDIDO
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© Francis Bown 2003
Plato believed in ideal types. For every item in this physical world – be it a chair, a table, a tree or whatever – in the spiritual realm (what we might call ‘Heaven’) there was, he thought, its perfect form. I suppose, were he alive today, he would apply his principle to luxury hotels. But he might find it difficult, if he went to Portofino. There he might have to concede that what he believed impossible had been achieved. Standing in his suite, surrounded by comfort and elegance, and looking out over the prettiest little port in Europe, the great philosopher might be forced to think again. For, without going to Heaven, he would have found the ideal form of the luxury hotel. He would, of course, have been a guest of The Hotel Splendido.
These musings came to me as I sat in a capacious armchair, surrounded by cushions of the most cosseting plumpness, and watched a storm of startling ferocity hurl its torrents out of the sky. Usually, the weather in Portofino is mild and gentle. In fact, on my previous visits, I have not been inconvenienced by a single spot of rain. But now it poured with such savagery that I became almost Wordsworthian in my admiration for the Sublime. I was in one of the hotel’s sitting rooms, safely behind plate glass. It occurred to me that inclement weather makes it even more important to be at a really good hotel, and at an hotel with an exceptional staff. (Here it is appropriate that I should mention the Hotel Manager, Mr Ermes de Megni – for it is he who deserves praise for ensuring that the service at The Splendido is of the very best sort: kind, courteous and efficient. He appears in two of the pictures – with myself in the garden, and with myself and my Royce, for he is a fan of proper motor cars.) In such a place, the pleasure of being inside intensifies into something quite exquisite.
But Mr Sun did have his hat on, and he finally came out. And then it was clear once more why The Splendido’s location has been so popular for so many centuries. Monks built their monastery here, but they abandoned it in the 16th century, because they were attacked too often by Saracen pirates. Eventually, Baron Baratta built his summer home on the same spot. Then the hotel opened in 1901. Before long it was crowded by persons of means and taste. Winston Churchill, Rex Harrison, the Duke of Windsor, Humphrey Bogart, Clark Gable, Elizabeth Taylor – these and many, many more of the world’s finest have sought out a room at The Splendido.
My own billet was on the third floor of the main building. Room 345 was a ‘Superior Junior Suite’ (and therefore 1,660 – 2,018 euros a night, half-board for two, according to season). It was, like the entire hotel, pristine and sparkling. In the hallway were fitted wardrobes, with a private safe, and a ‘kitchen in a cupboard’ with a sink and the mini-bar. The spacious bathroom was clad in white marble and provided two basins, a large tub, a separate shower and a mosaic of fishes. Toiletries by both Bulgari and Penhaligon’s were on hand to assist with my ablutions, and there was a separate loo with a bidet.
The Splendido. Lighting was provided by two wall lights, six table lamps and two chandeliers. The television rose majestically from a cabinet at the foot of the bed and included a cd/dvd player, so that I could greet each morning with a little Mozart. The air-conditioning was efficient and the colour scheme – of white, with touches of pink – was very much to my taste. And then, through the two windows, there was the view. I do hope that the photographs give a least some idea of the loveliness of the scene. You do really need to go to see it for yourself, for my words cannot do it justice. Let me say merely that it is life-enhancing.
And the comestibles themselves – all of them – are of the very highest quality. Luca Pedmonte, the smart young waiter from Genoa, brought to me pots of coffee, bowls of ice, glasses of freshly made grape juice, dishes of porridge (made from water, not milk) and servings of porcini mushrooms on toast, and from the buffet I secured selections of melon, raspberries and strawberries. Then I thought I might like a little fish. There was none on the menu, but this was The Splendido… so in a few minutes there appeared in front of me a plate of the most delicious grilled sea bass.
I present to you a picture of the maitre d’ Demetrio Lombardo. He presided over these happy occasions with skill and flair, and I owe him a particular word of thanks. The seats on the restaurant terrace were difficult for my back. Mr Lombardo therefore ensured that a chair and a cushion from the dining room were awaiting my arrival each morning. You see what I meant when I said the service at The Splendido is kind, courteous and efficient?
I decided to have dinner at The Slendido’s other establishment, in the very middle of the port of Portofino. I confess that I was hesitant about this. I knew the journey would be easy, for the hotel’s shuttle ‘bus would whizz me down the hill in a couple of minutes. But should I be leaving the good food and the attentive service of the main building? I need not have worried. The Splendido Mare (pictured) is a gem, and at its Chuflay Bar Restaurant I had a truly wonderful meal, under a canopy, in the Piazzetta, right next to the harbour.
And those words apply also to the food of Chef Roberto Villa. Indeed, Mr Villa gave me four courses of the sort of Italian food of which everyone dreams, but which is seldom delivered. This was conspicuously true of my first dish, grilled vegetables with extra virgin olive oil. Nothing could be simpler, one might suppose, but I have been disappointed with this dish times without number. Here it was brilliant. And there was no secret to its success: it was just a matter of using the very finest ingredients and cooking them with the utmost care. This approach was evident throughout my dinner. Asparagus and leek soup with sautéed scallops yielded sound, clear flavours and was large enough for the stoutest trencherman. Then the baked rack of lamb showed that the Chef knows where to find the best meat, for it was both delicious and tender. I concluded with a pretty and well-balanced plate of raspberries in puff pastry with raspberry sauce. (These courses were 90 euros, for those not on the usual half-board arrangement.)
The wine list is a tiny offspring of that used at the main house. Its one hundred or so offerings are all Italian, apart from the champagnes. Prices range from 29ε for a local ‘light red’ (the list groups the wines under such titles) to 730ε for 1999 Sassicaia. Other wines to catch my eye were: 2000 Tignanello (220ε), 2001 Gaj Barbareso (250ε) and 1995 Brunello di Montalcino Riserva, Biondi Santi (550ε). I have to thank Mr Aiosa for my red wine, for he recommended it and it was a brilliant choice. This super-Tuscan (Bolgheri Superiore, Guado al Tasso) was a blend of cabernet (60%), merlot (30%) and syrah (10%). It was complex, rich and sweet, with a tremendous depth of black fruit and brambles. For such enjoyment do I drink wine.