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LUZERN SCHWEIZERHOF
I had driven long and hard from Belgium and both the Royce and I were in need of rest and comfort. A large underground garage having provided spacious shelter for the Silver Cloud, I marched into the hotel lobby to find my own billet. I was immediately at ease.
Two restaurants are offered by the hotel. Needless to say, I chose the more formal, the Galerie. It is divided into two parts. You must be careful to ensure that you are seated in the right part. On the lower level, there is a lot of green and smoking is allowed. This is not where you wish to be. Dear friend, go higher. Then you will find, as I did, a lofty chamber of white, reminiscent of an 18 th century French chateau. And intimations of grandeur were all around – armchairs draped with white damask, cream tablecloths, potted palms, crystal chandeliers, Spiegelau glassware, dishes brought to the table under silver domes and friendly but proper service orchestrated by maitresse d’ Carol Rosa. All very satisfactory.
It was back to the Galerie for breakfast. From the buffet I secured supplies of sliced melon, thick slices of crusty bread, strawberry and rhubarb jam and – as a special, naughty treat I do not normally allow myself – a bowl of Sugar Puffs. A good start to the day. Thus fortified, I drove off in the Royce. At the Schweizerhof I had been refreshed amidst traditional elegance and comfort. I had enjoyed the hospitality of a dowager duchess.
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© Francis Bown 2003
The Schweizerhof in Luzern is a gracious, old-fashioned, dowager duchess of an hotel. Built in the middle of the Nineteenth Century, her classical façade presides over a large part of Luzern’s lakeside promenade. And she presides with an effortless dignity, because she knows that she has every right to her prominence. She has, after all, welcomed through her doors some of the most famous persons in Europe. When you have sheltered Leo Tolstoy, Richard Wagner and Leopold II of Bavaria, I suppose you tend to feel that your position in society is secure. And now the dear lady was to shelter me.
Traditional elegance has always appealed to me, and here it was in abundance. Columns of pink marble rose to support a high ceiling of fine plasterwork. Pieces of period furniture offered seating on plump cushions. A long-case clock ticked gently. Outside was a busy road; inside was the quiet gentility of an earlier age. I felt immediately that my spirits were being restored. Five generations of the Hauser family have owned and run the Schweizerhof, and they have certainly preserved a sense of pleasing continuity throughout their hotel.
Up on the top floor (the fifth), my air-conditioned room – number 83 – maintained the sense of tradition, with a mahogany wardrobe and writing desk, a gilt-framed wall mirror and a small crystal chandelier. The carpet and armchairs were in muted tones of beige and pink. This was a ‘superior double with Lake view’ and therefore priced at 440-550 Swiss francs a night, according to season, with breakfast an additional cost of 30 francs each. Two balconies were available when I wished to enjoy the lovely panorama outside. In the brown marble bathroom were two wash basins, a tub of acceptable length, a separate shower and proper, five foot long, bath towels.
As was the food of chef Harald Kammermeier. No culinary fireworks, but decent ingredients, carefully prepared. The set menu for 84 francs provided me with four courses: melon with Parma ham, bresaola and parmesan; ravioli with tomato and mozzarella; breast of guinea fowl stuffed with cream cheese and herbs; and a crisp prune tart with Grand Marnier parfait and orange sauce. 
You should study the wine list with some care. It is not particularly long (there are about 150 offerings) and it encompasses both the Old and New worlds. But it includes some real gems at bargain prices. Look for 1982 first growth clarets on most restaurant lists and you probably suffer a sharp intake of breath. This great vintage can command astonishing amounts of cash. Here the 1982 Margaux is 506 francs and the 1982 Mouton Rothschild is 515 francs – both around the £210 mark. Remarkable. And my super-Tuscan, from a highly rated vintage, was another real snip. 182 francs for the 1997 Ornellaia was astonishing. Nutty, perfumed, vegetal, with hints of toffee and a gorgeous depth of ripe black fruit, this was a wine which could have made me weep with sadness for teetotallers – had I not been too occupied in beaming with pleasure at my own good fortune. If you can find this wine, grab it.