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CAPRI GRAND HOTEL QUISISANA
At the quayside I was met by a porter from the hotel. He took my cases, and then I walked over to the funicular railway for the ascent up the cliff – having been directed first to buy my ticket from the office to the right of the quay. I could have taken a taxi, but the ride on the railway is cheaper and more interesting and it takes you closer to the hotel (for the island has many restrictions on motor cars). Then it was a leisurely stroll through the Piazzetta – the tiny, buzzing heart of Capri – past the jewellery and designer fashion shops, round the corner and there it was... the immaculate façade of the Quisisana. In Capri this is the ideal location. I headed for one of the most inviting doorways in Italy.
Best of all was the view. (And I would strongly recommend that you pay the extra to ensure a good view.) At my request, my bed had been made specially soft. Joyful it was, after a good night’s sleep, to press the switch to the electric blind to one of the French windows and then to slide back the screen to the other. Before me was a sunbathed vista: the palm trees and lawns of the hotel gardens, the twinkling surface of the outdoor swimming pool and the majestic Faraglioni rocks in the sea beyond. I made it my habit to sit on my terrace in the early morning, so that the breeze, cool and gentle, could waft over me as my days began with the contemplation of this gorgeous scene.
And that is what I got. Chef Mazzone, of a Sicilian family, is a talented chef, who speaks passionately about his cuisine. He handles top quality ingredients with care and precision. My first course of gratinated white asparagus with poached egg and Joselito ham (from Spain) was subtle and delicious. Next came prettily presented ricotta ravioli with cherry tomatoes and baby eggplant. My main course was wonderfully flavoursome baked saddle of lamb with peas, artichokes and mint. (This would have been even better with a light jus to give the dish more moisture.) My concluding soufflé with vanilla sauce caught the essence of lemon. (These four courses were 108 euros.)
One of the delights of this dining room is that the creamy and delicious Krug Gande Cuvée champagne is available by the glass (30 euros). So I began with a flute of that, before a glass of a floral, full-bodied, local white (Fiano di Avellino – 10 euros, glass) and then a bottle of fine, damson-laden, Sicilian red (Faro Palari, 2004 – 68 euros). Thus did I eat and drink well. If you are ever tempted to lose faith in the standards of hospitality on offer nowadays, I suggest that you head for the Quisisana. It is an hotel of the old sort: comfortable, spacious, majestic, luxurious, beautifully furnished, diligently maintained and ideally located. It is famous and it deserves to be famous. The Quisisana will restore your belief in the concept of the Grand Hotel. What is more, it is on Capri. And, as the Romans knew, Capri is a jolly good thing.
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GRAND HOTEL QUISISANA
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© Francis Bown 2003
The Romans knew a good thing when they saw it. They looked upon the isle of Capri and were captivated by its charms. They built exquisite villas so that they could gaze across its rocks into the bluest of blue seas. Centuries later, in 1845, a doctor from Scotland, George Sidney Clark, realised that his patients would also benefit from this place’s happy combination of sunshine, warmth and beauty. He built a clinic and called it ‘Quisisana’, which means ‘here one heals’. Twenty years later the clinic became an hotel. As time went by, the hotel became grander and grander. Persons of means and taste began to make the crossing from Naples to enjoy its luxurious hospitality. Here Jean Paul Sartre thought his existentialist thoughts and Ernest Hemingway day-dreamed about bullfights. In 1981 the property was purchased by a native Capri family, and since then members of the Morgano clan have lavished extravagant care and attention on their prize. Today there is no question: the Grand Hotel Quisisana is one of the loveliest hotels in Europe.
As I entered, my eye was caught by the standards fluttering overhead. I was pleased to observe that they included the Papal flag. Inside, the marble floor, the crystal chandeliers, the sweeping staircase, the inviting sofas, the oil paintings and the pieces of fine antique furniture spoke the message in unison: you are now in a proper grand hotel. There were therefore lots of smartly dressed members of staff to ease the progress to my billet.
Room 310 was on the third floor. It was a ‘Special Deluxe Double’ and therefore 530-670 euros a night, bed and breakfast for two. Through its entrance hall (with fitted wardrobes and a safe) was a pristine apartment of white (the floor tiles, the walls, the ceiling and the sofa), set off by blue (the silk upholstery on the two armchairs and the leather of the buttoned tub chair). A pedestal table stood near the sofa and a gilt-framed mirror hung above the marble-topped chest of drawers. Two oil paintings (of rough sea in twilight) adorned the walls. Through a sliding white door was the bathroom, with Quisi toilestries, a tub in the shape of the figure eight and white bath towels 5 feet 6 inches in length. 
Later in the mornings, down on the larger terrace of the breakfast restaurant – with fellow guests whose standard of dress was impressively high – waiters and waitresses in cream waistcoats brought me onion omelettes, jugs of hot coffee and my concluding cappuccini. From the buffet I secured slices of blood orange and melon, bowls of cornflakes, plates of bacon and slices of chocolate cake and fruit tart. All these comestibles were of the highest standard. My days at the Quisisana began very well indeed. 
Regular readers will know that I take particular pleasure in corridors of the better sort. It is typical of the attention to detail at the Quisisana that the wall of the corridor outside my room, instead of being left blank, had been painted with a charming trompe l’oeil bookcase. I liked it so much that later I went to sit and read there. I reproduce a picture of my doing just that. I also liked to sit in the gardens. While I was doing so, along came the Hotel Director, Alessio Lazazzera, so I bring you another photograph – of this excellent and charming fellow. He and the General Manager, Dr Gianfranco Morgano, deserve high praise for the charming efficiency I found everywhere in their establishment. Every member of staff I encountered was courteous, friendly and eager to help. Let me give you one small example. On my first morning I took a cushion to breakfast, to help with my troublesome back. On the following days, without a word from me, a cushion was brought by a waiter as soon as I arrived for breakfast. Such attentiveness marks out the great hotels.
My days on Capri were spent quietly, with gentle outings to the Marina Piccola (where, according to the Noël Coward song, English ladies of a certain age used to find excitement – “In a bar on the Piccola Marina / Life called to Mrs Wentworth-Brewster”) and Anacapri (from which I declined to find my own excitement by taking the terrifying chair-lift to the very top of the island). But there was much to be said for staying within the carefully tended grounds of the Quisisana. Everything was here for me. Even had I lapsed into my thespian manqué persona, a stage would have been to hand, for the hotel has its own Art Déco theatre (pictured), designed in 1929 by Giò Ponti. Still, my excursions did stimulate my appetite.
I dined first in the Quisi Restaurant. My picture shows the two important gentlemen who made my visit to this lofty white chamber such a success: on the left, the enthusiastic Executive Chef, Stefano Mazzone, and on the right, the suave Restaurant Manager, Aldo D’Errico. As the pianist tinkled, they were on hand to show me to a large round table. On its off-white cloth were glasses by Spiegelau. Above were crystal chandeliers. On the walls were good oil paintings from the 19th century. Across the room was a touch of humour – two elephants in white wicker work. The waiters in white jackets were quick to replace the napkins of those diners who left their places for a moment. The scene was set for a good meal.
The hotel wine list is large and impressive. Several Italian bottles (like a white from Lazio) can be had for 18 euros. Then the prices work their way up to 3,250 euros for the 2004 vintage of the grandest white burgundy (DRC Montrachet). Some splendid clarets are on offer – like this trio from 1996: Haut Brion (590 euros), Cheval Blanc (650 euros) and Latour (545 euros) – but, as you would expect, Italy dominates the cellar. From the great Tuscan year of 1997 come Solaia (580 euros) and Ornellaia (1,100 euros). I was grateful to Signor D’Errico for recommending two local bottles from Campania. My white, grown on volcanic soil, had a gravelly nose and yielded in the mouth suggestions of lychee, melon and lemon (Pietraincatenata, Luigi Maffini, 2005 – 35 euros), and my red was big and tannic with underlying notes of burnt caramel (Taurasi Vigna Cinque Querce, Salvatore Molettieri, 2001 – 75 euros).
I also dined in the hotel’s Rendez-Vous restaurant. This is a small, panelled room which has a glass wall to the street. Its discreet lighting, marble floor, white tablecloths and white leather banquettes create an atmosphere which is smart and sophisticated. Perhaps I should call it artistic, for those of you who recall the Surrealist painter, Mr Salvador Dali, will already have a good idea of the appearance of the immaculately-dressed maitre d’, Lino Autiero. Here I tucked into a flavoursome terrine of foie gras, a brilliant gratinated tagliolini with cream, ham and peas and a huge roasted veal chop. This last was so large that I had to abandon all thought of the tarte tatin with cinnamon ice cream, which I had promised myself as the finale. (The three courses I ate were 92 euros. A set four-course meal is available for 65 euros.)
