Archive for August, 2011
One Day
Wednesday, August 31st, 2011Getting Away For Autumn
Friday, August 26th, 2011
Well, that was summer. How was it for you? For many, it would have been a strange time, when blazing heat and sunshine alternated seemingly at random with heavy rain and storms, making it nearly impossible to enjoy. For others, swanning from one sun-kissed coast to another (often via yacht), it would have been a sybaritic few months of pleasure, and only now are the tans beginning to fade and attention drawing to the next opportunity for relaxation.
Yes, it’s time to think about a short break to ease you back into the long nights, colder days and, yes, unpredictable rainfall that comes with autumn. There are some outstanding hotels, within easy reach of London, which offer history, wonderfully comfortable rooms, excellent dining and the warmest of welcomes, all of which make for a genuinely pleasant mini-break. But rest assured, each is quirky and individualistic enough in its own way to mean that a visit is something genuinely unique, and a true pleasure.
The Feathers, Woodstock
The pleasant small Oxfordshire town of Woodstock is arguably the first point where the Cotswolds begin, as can be ascertained from the chi-chi antiques emporiums and coffee shops that are dotted around the place. Those of a more historical bent will enjoy visiting Blenheim Palace, Churchill’s birthplace. The hotel that most people will flock to is the recently refurbished The Feathers, situated right in the middle of town. The atmosphere is a cross between upmarket boutique and country house chic, with the rooms offering wonderfully comfortable beds, lavish bathrooms and – best of all for many – a decanter of jelly beans. The food and drink side of the operation is taken very seriously as well. An expertly prepared tasting menu might include such treats as goat’s cheese panacotta, sea bass with shellfish risotto and warm sticky toffee sponge, and those of an adventurous nature are highly advised to try a selection from the gin bar, where the ‘ultimate gin and tonic’ – Blackwood’s vintage gin, Q tonic water (sic), and ice cubes from the local spring’ – is a thing of wonder.
Market Street, Woodstock, Oxfordshire OX20.
www.feathers.co.uk
Alexander House, East Grinstead
If you’re looking for a Sussex answer to spa hotels such as Babington House or The Vineyard, you needn’t look much further than the lavishly appointed Alexander House. The piece-de-resistance here is the much-praised Utopia Spa, which plays host to a steady stream of visitors, ready to enjoy expertly administered treatments that range from the simple (neck and back massages) to more complex delights involving hot oil. Throw in a stylish swimming pool, outdoors hot tub and the usual saunas and steam rooms, and you’ve got a great reason to visit. The rest of the hotel more than lives up to its reputation, with lavishly comfortable rooms that offer a pleasant blend of old and new (half are in the old house, half are in the new wing), and a highly regarded ‘formal’ restaurant, AG’s, which, under the care of executive chef Mark Budd, offers an elegant spin on English grill room traditions with such dishes as langoustines and rabbit saddle, loin of Sussex lamb with beetroot and a splendidly decadent banana and chocolate parfait. Plan a visit soon, but be sure to book in advance – it’s generally very busy.
Turners Hill, East Grinstead, West Sussex RH10.
www.alexanderhotels.co.uk/alexander
Langshott Manor, Horley
The only incongruous note when approaching Langshott Manor is struck by the approach, where an odd mix of new-build houses and airplane noise (Gatwick is a couple of miles away) seem to contradict the idyll represented by Langshott itself. An Elizabethan property with gardens that include a croquet lawn and even a private moat, it’s a marvellously welcoming place, with touches of eccentricity (the in-room information contains some very amusing jokes, and bathrooms feature four-poster baths) that add lustre to the experience. As you might expect, the bedrooms are very well appointed, named after historical figures and places (Henry VIII, Katherine Parr et al) and boasting four-poster beds and lovely views over the grounds. It’s an excellent place to kick off your shoes and relax, literally and metaphorically, and a wonderfully peaceful getaway. The food, served in Mulberrys restaurant overlooking the moat, is an especial highlight – the regularly changing menu boasts of the provenance of its suppliers, a welcome touch, and dishes of monkfish loin with chorizo and ‘tasting’ of veal are about as delicious as anything that you’ll have in the area. The wine list, compiled in association with the highly regarded Ellis of Richmond, offers unusual vintages and types at sensible prices. Again, the hotel’s comparatively small size means that it’s an idea to book a good while in advance to avoid disappointment.
Ladbroke Road, Horley RH6.
www.alexanderhotels.co.uk/langshott
If you’re travelling to Alexander House or Langshott Manor, we recommend Southern Railways’ service, which provides the best rates for tickets booked in advance online. For further details and full information, please visit www.southernrailway.com
Noisy Lovers and Souffle
Wednesday, August 24th, 2011
Let me start with a sweeping statement: an evening that begins with noisy lovers will end well.
That is, when Noisy Lovers is a cocktail concoction of vodka, cointreau, raspberry and lime, sipped in good company at Blakes Hotel, South Kensington. You’ll leave satiated and giggly, nipping round the corner to catch your bus to bed.
The cocktail list has us oohing and aahing, but it is the food that is the real firework display at this calm basement restaurant. Dark and oriental in decor and feel, stepping downstairs in W8 lifts the weight of the world. It is cool out of the solstice sunshine and delicately scented, instantly draining the stresses of another day in the smoke.
Having procrastinated at our desks over the menu, we’ve made the kind of pre-decision food decisions that would let us order without even glancing at the menu. We’ve discussed the merits of salmon sashimi vs. carpaccio of beef vs. diver scallops, but we look at the card, all the same – to avoid giving the waitress the creeps, if nothing less.
We rattle off orders – the diver scallops with ginger and basil made the cut, along with a warm chicken salad with avocado, pomelo, cashews and nam jim sauce – until we’re surprised to see a raised eyebrow and look of pure doubt on the face of our waitress. It’s the Soufflé Suissesse. ‘It’s pretty big,’ she warns, and it seems there is some discrepancy between eyes and stomachs. We agree to share, and the panic disperses as quickly as it had arrived.
When the soufflé comes into land we take a moment to scrape our jaws from the floor, such is the monstrosity of the thing. If you’re in need of a talking point – or a conversation stopper for that matter – this is all you require. Made with seven eggs, the soufflé is the size of a sandcastle, transformed into an awakening volcano with the oozing of gruyère sauce, its cheesy lava. With an extra dose of sauce in the centre, the volcano erupts and the party really starts.
The soufflé is light and fluffy, yet possibly the most richly cheesy dish I’ve ever come across. Quite frankly, it is extraordinary. The chicken salad is the perfect accompaniment for a little light relief, and the pomelo like it’s fresh from a market stall in Vietnam, while the scallops are delightfully tender and delicately flavoured, dwarfed by the soufflé yet packed with flavour.
So the soufflé has set the precedent, and the man calling the shots in the kitchen has got it sorted. We move on to black cod with miso and ginger sauce, beef fillet teriyaki with hot sake and crispy ginger chicken, with garlic and ginger sauce, with forks flying between plates to snatch a taste of each. The beef is plain delicious, the cod soft and fresh and the chicken the right side of spicy, with the combination descending into a tour of Asian cuisine. Accompanied by baby broad beans and coriander rice – a triumph in itself – the clash of cutlery on empty plates soon fills the air.
Having made it this far, and having heard recommendations from previous diners, dessert is all but irresistible, especially given the caramel soufflé heading up the list. We all know what is coming next: another sand castle, another volcano, and even more fireworks. Though we think we know what to expect, the caramel edition enters a whole new realm. A caramelised crust, chewy with slightly burned sugar and inside the sweetest treat you can imagine and jug full of butterscotch sauce, just in case it isn’t caramel-y enough.
The chocolate fondant with pistachio ice cream and green tea ice cream we’ve also ordered are scrumptious in their own right, though they fall by the wayside for a few minutes as that tense situation where four people attempt at politely getting their fair share of one pudding takes over.
While we’re smiling sweetly and taking ladylike spoonfuls, really each of us is plotting on legging it with the lot and locking ourselves in a cupboard until there is none left.
Well that’s what I was thinking anyway.
Blakes Hotel, 33 Roland Gardens, SW7 3PF
Highland Fling
Tuesday, August 23rd, 2011
If you ask most people what they associate with Edinburgh, the two answers that you’re most likely to get are ‘the festival’ and ‘the castle’. Some, of a more irreverent bent, might murmur something about Trainspotting and the infamous dockside area of Leith – although these days the outstanding quality of the restaurants and nightlife down there has well and truly dispelled this cliché. For others, it’s the romantic appeal of Edinburgh that’s the key to why you’d want to keep coming back to Scotland’s capital city. David Nicholls’ bestseller One Day features Edinburgh as its focal point, with the narrative both starting and finishing there, and the recent wedding of Zara Phillips and Mike Tindall reminded the world, as if it needed to be reminded, that there’s a great deal more to the city than haggis and kilts.
With the new film of One Day showcasing Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess falling in love amidst the city’s Georgian granite streets, to picturesque effect, it seemed as if a visit to the city one weekend was a necessary pleasure. Arriving at the effortlessly elegant Balmoral Hotel, probably the most famous and grand place to stay in the city, it’s a hop and a skip from the Waverley train station and features a clock that’s purposely set two minutes fast, to allow travelers to catch their trains on time. We were staying in the JK Rowling suite, so called because Rowling finished the final Harry Potter book inside it and celebrated the fact by inscribing this on a marble bust of Hermes, which is now placed under protective glass. The lavishly appointed room offers all the trimmings that you’d expect, from a gloriously comfortable bed to multiple flat-screen televisions.
Anyone staying at the Balmoral really has to go downstairs to the hotel’s Michelin-starred flagship restaurant, Number One. Deservedly regarded as one of the city’s premier dining destinations, those who opt for the tasting menu will enjoy a variety of delights, which are presented simply on the menu as ‘foie gras’, ‘beetroot’ and ‘scallops’, but in fact represent a synthesis between executive chef Jeff Bland (an unfortunate name which bears no relation to his cooking) and his Scottish heritage, and the more European influences that establishments of this calibre are traditionally in thrall to. Matched with a selection of Old and New World wines by the ever-helpful sommelier, it’s a true pleasure to visit.
Of course, Edinburgh is one of the great walking cities of the world. Whether, like Dexter and Emma, you have the energy to head up to Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park, or if you prefer a more sedate wander down the main thoroughfare of Prince’s Street, the Georgian ambience of George Street or a trip down to Edinburgh’s upmarket suburb of Stockbridge, there’s no shortage of architectural splendour and grandiosity along the way. Wherever you go will inevitably be dominated by the panoramas of the Castle and the natural peaks (like Rome, Edinburgh is a city built on hills), but there’s also a warmth and friendliness to the place that can often make up for the piercing winds that come in from the nearby sea. Oh yes, you can see the sea.
You’re almost certain to walk down the Royal Mile at some point, the main thoroughfare between the Castle and Holyrood Palace, and your best bet to go for dinner along there is the splendidly named Angels With Bagpipes. Owned by local legend Martina Crolla (her name adorns the famous Valvona & Crolla delicatessen), it offers stylish twists on traditional favourites in a romantic and convenient setting. A starter of haggis ravioli shouldn’t work but does, beautifully; Ayrshire belly of pork with Stornoway black pudding tastes so delicious that you start to believe that it’s good for you. A sensibly priced wine list offers a good selection by the glass, and the staff are endlessly helpful and friendly, making a visit here a real pleasure.
Edinburgh exerts a strange hold over people. Both quintessentially Scottish (order a couple of whiskies in the Bow Bar on Victoria Street, which stocks over 200 of them) and somehow European in its cafe society and unspoilt feel, it is one of the most beguiling and romantic places to visit in Britain. When you next head there, walk past the throngs of people with the tell-tale orange and white copy of One Day in their hands, and find your own romantic space. Chances are, it’ll lend itself to just as affecting and true a love story as Dexter and Emma’s.
Extreme Sailing
Monday, August 22nd, 2011McQueen Visits Shoreditch
Friday, August 19th, 2011
He had a scruffy beard, long hair and liked to kick in the wheels of pick-up trucks that wouldn’t work. He lived on his own terms, known by a select few to whom he bared his soul. Many of his fellow artistes had that vagrant romantic quality, but none spent this quality in quite so distinctive a fashion as Steve McQueen.
He lived in an aircraft hanger. He wore a pair of Persol sunglasses, made some relatively good movies (The Cincinnati Kid is a good movie), and is remembered for such novelties as riding motorcycles and finding the perfect pose to any given moment.
With all this in mind, what do you think a restuaurant/bar/club should look, feel, sound and taste like that serves as an ode to his name? Dezzi McCausland of the Kingly Club, Soho brooded for a while, and then, gazing long and hard at the mean streets of Shoreditch, lit upon what many considerable punters deem the perfect expression.
I went looking for the sign outside Tabernacle Street near Old Street station, the one that reads ‘If you go past this point you better have a damn good reason’. That was his catchphrase. Every superhero needs one. Every superhero also needs a theme tune, and in the cocktail lounge area that I think was designed by the guy behind Johnny Depp’s Viper Room, they like to think its funky house with a bit of Bob Marley thrown in.
My date thought McQueen was Paul Newman, and wasn’t too bothered by his shirtless apparition on the screen behind us. We sat down and I fell in Love with a Proper Stranger. The home-made raspberry syrup in it is good, and the Woodford Reserve bourbon gives you a proper kick in the teeth. They should have had some rocking chairs in there. But other than that, Papillon would approve.
I was here to eat. “You see, what I want to do, I’m gonna do.” Another sentiment of his thrown around the bar by boys drinking martinis at happy hour, a little confused by what a couple girls further along wanted from them. Nothing as it turned out, but that’s just part of McQueen’s aura – you take it on, whether it works for you or not.
Steve McQueen was a bad boy that liked to collect cast iron toys. But he was also soft inside, a little sophisticated, a little vulnerable, aloof, and yet constantly in need of reassurance. He wanted to be nondescript, and yet hated the everyday snub. All in all, he was a lot like fans of gourmet dining. A lot like us.
The interior decorators thought as much, and plastered the walls with McQueen’s face. They recreated his soul from brown leather chesterfields, and padded it with Honduran mahogany and swirls of leather; Orient Express by way of a McQueen frat house. They hesitated to serve us, and we got anxious, biting our lips, checking our bb’s, wondering how much his Persol’s would have gone for at auction, or if he really was that cool, as cool as either you or I, and what it is that makes someone really cool, and admired predominantly for that quality.
The chef was cool. A sensitive soul, he came out afterwards to see what I really thought. She looked at him and said ‘your lobster was so good. So good.’ and really meant it, and he pressed my shoulder happily. Cool is sincere, and diffident, and self-assured, and remarkable in that it doesn’t need words to convey its intent. The menu is cool. American almost-there-gourmet grill, with creole spiced grilled prawns and parmesan mash and compassionate cuts of Sirloin that I worked on with a glass of red, all cedar and cigarbox and red berries from Bordeaux.
She lined her lips with orange gloss, took my hand. “I like this place”, she said. “Quite cool.” And if she said it, then it’s got to be. I put on my Lemtosh glasses, put on my hat, my three quarter length coat and gazed back at the emotion swelling behind her eyes. It’s warm, and shiny, and not a little bit affectionate.
‘Let’s get another drink.’ I said, ‘It’s actually pretty cool in here.’
McQueen,
5-61 Tabernacle Street,
Shoreditch, London EC2A 4AA
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