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LONDON JUMEIRAH CARLTON TOWER
The Jumeirah Carlton Tower is at the Knightsbridge end of Sloane Street, and therefore in the midst of those emporia from which the more fashionable among us purchase clothes and jewellery of the expensive sort. Being an old fuddy-duddy, I am more Savile Row and Jermyn Street myself, but I do like to see what adventurous folk are up to, so I enjoy the sort of window-shopping which this location facilitates. The hotel occupies a prime corner site and rises impressively above its surroundings – hence, I suppose, the ‘Tower’ part of its name. My accommodation was on the 6 th floor, high enough to enjoy delightful views over the gardens of Cadogan Place. Indeed, from my balcony I could see a long way over the South of London. I recognised the spire of Saint Barnabas’ Church in Pimlico and, of course, I knew the chimney-stacks of Battersea Power Station. (This great building by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott is now in a sad state and awaits a saviour. How glorious it could have been, if it had been restored with the funds wasted on the Millennium Dome… Yet still it manages to dominate and enrich the skyline.)
Beige marble lined the small bathroom. This, too, was stylish, with spotlights, a tub of good size and a wash basin made of glass. Here I performed my ablutions with L’Occitane toiletries. I carefully avoided using the set of scales, for unpleasant numbers are bad for my heart. Instead, I turned my thoughts to the pleasures of food. And, at the Jumeirah Carlton Tower, those pleasures are considerable. There were several options for dinner, but I wanted to go to The Rib Room. London has only a few good restaurants serving British food, and this is one of the most famous. It is on the ground floor and is a large chamber on two levels. The size proved important for me. I am not a fan of open kitchens, and the abundance of space enabled me to settle into a corner far away from the preparation of the food. Here, in a comfortable red armchair, with a spotlight shining upon the white tablecloth in front of me and with waiters in black waistcoats and white aprons going this way and that, I settled back in anticipation of some jolly, old-fashioned eating. And there on the menu were the dishes we all like, but too seldom eat: smoked salmon, steak tartare, grilled Dover sole…
I congratulate the Chef de Cuisine, Donato Russo, on the standard of this meal, which I really enjoyed. I should mention, too, the service. Orchestrated by Robert Lyall, the Assistant Restaurant Manager, it was properly efficient, with just the right measure of robust good humour from excellent fellows like Hilario Marques from Lisbon (my ‘host’) and Salvatore from Naples (my waiter). The pianist played ‘Moon River’ and I thought for a moment – in my satisfaction and contentment – that, indeed, I was at the rainbow’s end. The wine list looks well chosen, and whizzes around the world to good effect. The following caught my eye, and will give you an idea of the prices: Louis Latour’s Grand Ardèche chardonnay, 2004 (£40), 1995 Krug champagne (£320), Au Bon Climat chardonnay, 2004 (£60), 1990 Latour (£1,700), and 2003 Tignanello (£110). I went to New Zealand for a sauvignon blanc of green apples, melon and lychees (Gisborne, Amor Bendall, 2004 - £50), and to Chile for a cabernet/merlot of hot, tannic black fruit (Aliara, Odfjell, 2001 - £70). These were poured into glassware of high quality (a mixture of Schott and Spiegelau).
And the afternoon was made equally pleasant by tea. In my Cambridge days I was much devoted to the four o’clock ritual, and my rooms were often full of undergraduates and cucumber sandwiches. Nowadays I prefer a quieter form of tea-time. So I was in my element in the elegant, vaguely Oriental surroundings of the Chinoiserie, a room off the hotel lobby. Here, to the sounds of a harp, I imbibed pots of gunpowder tea and a glass of pink champagne and tucked into dainty sandwiches (I particularly liked the egg and cress), warm scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, a bowl of fresh strawberries and various cream pastries (including a particularly fine coffee éclair). (This champagne tea costs £33; without the champagne it is £27.) All these were brought to me by the charming Alif, a young waiter in a brown jacket. Pepper and salt were provided for the sandwiches. These are too often absent at tea-time, so I awarded top marks for yet another thoughtful touch. Indeed, my experience here could be summed up by that word, ‘thoughtful’. From the lemonade and the towel when I arrived to the pots of pepper and salt at tea before I left, I noted a sustained effort to make my stay truly enjoyable, by attending to the small and important details. That is why I have no hesitation whatever in pronouncing the Jumeirah Carlton Tower a very fine hotel.
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ADDRESSES JUMEIRAH CARLTON TOWER |
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© Francis Bown 2003
I like arriving at a new hotel. I have my wits about me, and I look for evidence of the sort of standards I can expect during my stay. Are the members of staff smartly dressed, friendly and eager to please? Does the décor of the entrance lobby suggest luxury and attention to detail? Do I immediately feel comfortable and ‘at home’? At the Jumeirah Carlton Tower the answer to all these questions was a resounding ‘Yes’. But here there was something else: an element of surprise. I have been to many hundreds of hotels in my life, but never before have I been greeted at a reception desk with this particular form of welcome: a glass of lemonade and a moist towel. The first quenched my thirst (for it was a hot day in Chelsea), and the second took the dust from my brow (for London has never been the cleanest city in the world). I decided that this was going to be a most enjoyable visit.
There are 220 rooms. Mine was 618. This was a junior suite and therefore £765 a night for two. Its mixture of light wood, muted tones, chromium and glass was modern and entirely to my liking, being both practical and rather sophisticated. Even the abstract painting on the wall was to my taste, perhaps because it somehow reminded me of the north side of York Minster. Its air conditioning was quiet and effective and there was much evidence that real care had been taken with its facilities. All the lights could be dimmed, there was a spy hole in the door to the corridor and the television screen rose at the touch of a button from a white cabinet between the sitting and sleeping areas. The former was large enough for a substantial sofa, an easy chair and a writing desk. On my bed I found a duvet, but a brief call to Housekeeping and it was exchanged for blankets.
Yet my first two courses – both of them excellent – were of a more modern sort. Caramelized scallops, with slow-cooked belly of pork and orange and ginger dressing, were very good indeed – the flavours clear and strong and the execution spot on. And the pan-fried goose foie gras with wilted spinach and lentil vinaigrette was just as good, both luscious and well-balanced. For my main course, I had to have the dish which has been served here for the past forty years – roast rib of Aberdeen Angus beef from the Scottish estate of the Duke of Buccleuch, with Yorkshire pudding. I asked for some of the meat to be rare and some to be burnt. And that is what I got. Absolutely delicious, particularly with roasted new potatoes and sugar snap peas. I finished, still the good Englishman, with some splendid rhubarb – poached, with vanilla panna cotta and strawberries. (£88 for these four courses.)
It was back to The Rib Room for breakfast (£30) the next morning. On the front of the menu were printed some words of John Gunther: “All happiness depends on a wholesome breakfast.” Amen to that. From the buffet I secured plates of raspberries, pineapple and melon, croissants, a slice of fruit tart and a bowl of Corn Flakes. All of these looked well and tasted well. To me were brought glasses of fresh orange juice, cups of hot coffee and a truly delicious piece of smoked haddock (succulent and perfectly cooked) with mushrooms. This was a marvellous start to my day.