QUINTESSENTIALLY | Insider | Culture

It’s Wimbledon fortnight and right on cue, the weather vein is threatening raindrops on roses.

But who needs Centre Court when you can be sipping Champagne in the garden at Home House? Nibbling cakes disguised as tiny courts at the Dorchester? Or ordering empanadas, hand delivered by a girl in her whites at Gaucho?

Champagne & Cupcakes

Never doing anything by halves, Home House wouldn’t dream of passing on strawberries and cream season. Alongside your Moët et Chandon Rose Imperial and a soundtrack of the pick-pock of tennis balls streaming live from SW19, four cupcakes arrive, piled so high with frosting and soft fruit that you’re instantly reliving that childhood horror – ice-cream toppling helplessly from its cone and a pesky sea gull getting lucky.

If nothing else, it’s an excuse for why the little beauties don’t last more than three minutes. Forget the tennis – Murray might be having a fist fight with Federer, collapsing the net and tearing up the court but we’d not notice – Home House have hit on the match of the tournament.

Home House will serve four strawberries and cream cupcakes with each bottle of Moet et Chandon Imperial Rose at £75 per bottle.

20 Portman Square, W1H 6LW www.homehouse.co.uk

Wimbledon Afternoon Tea

There are few things more British than a cup of tea and a generous slither of cake, and few places more British to enjoy it than in the company of one of London’s finest octogenarians, the Dorchester.

It’s a little surprising though that your Lady Grey arrives with a teeny tennis court, that turns out to be bursting with fresh citrus, while across the table perfectly round tennis ball (also teeny) has enough coconut flavour to take you straight to the Jamaican Open – if only there was such a thing – let alone London’s suburbia.

And that’s after the rounds of finger sandwiches – crusts off – still-warm scones and an extra little smidgen of a course of strawberries and cream. Oh, and the Laurent Perrier, darling…

We’ve got our rackets at the ready to nab a table.

Traditional Wimbledon Afternoon Tea at the Dorchester Hotel, including strawberries & cream, and a glass of Laurent-Perrier BV is from £48.50 per person, incl. VAT and a 12.5% service charge.

Park Lane, Mayfair, W1K 1QA www.thedorchester.com

Tennis on Swallow Street

So now you’re a little caked-out by now and craving something a little on the less sugary side of things.

‘Taxi! Swallow Street – if you please!’

It’s pretty hard to miss your destination – a huge great green thing in the street, glowing with the early evening city light. Gaucho Piccadilly’s very own tennis court is in town and the cocktails are flowing.

Ball boys are nipping between Pashmina draped shoulders and sharp suits delivering bar treats – all Argentinean empanadas, juicy Ceviche and sausage platters – just as Federer walks all over an overly optimistic wild card in the fourth round.

Middle Saturday might be for catching lost play at the All England Club, but the crowd will be gathering at Gaucho as their own tournament starts hotting up – better get perfecting that backhand.

Swallow Street Tennis court will be open throughout Wimbledon Fortnight, 20th June – 3rd July 2011

Gaucho Piccadilly, 25 Swallow Street, W1B 4QR www.gauchorestaurants.co.uk

If there’s one thing Sir Richard Branson knows, it’s how to spot a good location.

As well as Necker Island in the BVIs, Kasbah Tamadot in the Atlas mountains and a private lodge in Verbier, he also owns a charming rustic game lodge in South Africa called Ulusaba – ideal for safari first-timers, or for those short on time.

Situated on 13,500 hectares of privately owned land on the north-western border of Kruger National Park in a region called Sabi Sands, this little patch of savannah could well have the highest concentration of animal traffic in the whole of Africa. Put it this way: I’d spotted all of the big five within 24 hours of checking in.

There are two lodges here, both offering spacious tribal-chic rooms, some of which have plunge pools. Safari Lodge (11 rooms) is situated on the banks of a dry river bed, and Rock Lodge (10 rooms) is in the mountains, a cool five minutes’ drive away. Choose the Treehouse Suite at Safari Lodge for privacy – access is via a long chain of rope bridges and your only next-door neighbours are the 38 hippos who wallow in the watering hole below your deck. For awe-inspiring views, you can’t beat the Makwela suites at Rock Lodge. On a clear day, you can see all the way to the Lembozo mountains of Mozambique.

But the property’s most recent addition, Cliff Lodge, is its pièce de la résistance. Carved out of the rockface behind Rock Lodge, this five-storey house boasts two ultra-luxe glass-fronted suites plus a private gym and pool, all completed last year. It is a remarkable feat of architecture and naturally it’s the preferred choice for Branson when he is visiting with family and friends. Locate the swivel closet in the master suite where he stashes his pith helmet and you can leave him a note…

The atmosphere throughout the sprawling estate is laid back yet professional. The rangers are great company and have encyclopaedic knowledge of the area’s flora and fauna as well as excellent cocktail mixing skills, which come in handy on game drives. These are taken twice daily (at 5.30am and 4.30pm) in soft-seated Land Rover Pumas. Don’t worry if you’re not an early riser, there’s plenty to see on evening drives. Expect cheetahs, impala, white rhino, lions, buffalo, leopards, giraffes, elephants, hippos, warthogs and chameleons, plus the odd black mamba and boomslang snake cooling off on the dusty roads – these coilers are deadly, so keep your eyes peeled.

Like at most safari lodges, meals are communal (although private dining is available) and the shared experience works well, especially when twice a week, dinner is served al fresco in the bush by flaming torch light. Impala steaks, steamed yellowtail fish, moussaka and traditional mealy pup are delivered fresh from the grill onto linen-clad trestle tables.

Feasting in this way, around a raging bonfire under a red African moon, swapping stories from the day’s thrilling adventures, you can’t help but feel thoroughly at one with nature. And best of all, it’s perfectly do-able in a long weekend.

www.ulusaba.virgin.com

Leo Bear flew to Johannesburg with Virgin Atlantic. Transfers from Johannesburg to Ulusaba’s private airstrip are with Federal Air.

It’s 1pm on Sunday, 5th June.

There’s a beautiful Georgian townhouse. The sort of rapacious dark-oak den that you’ve always wanted to frequent regularly for supper. Giuseppe Mascoli – a charmer like you – has had his way with it, making it the perfect place for media moguls to hand out cream coloured business cards next to a roaring fire, or for a group of loveable corporate rogues to enjoy the ‘best of Italian wine’, carrying on a very vocal conversation with an astute chap, notable for his impeccable manners and penchant for beautiful word pairings…

Oh, that’s Tom Parker Bowles. Yes, the scribe himself is playing host this feverish London afternoon in June 2011, along with his confidant and remarkably creative wing man–come Chef, Alberto Figueroa, second in command at Blacks, and as luck would have it, a native of Mexico City.

So, if you read the Evening Standard, or Telegraph, or even the Independent, you’ll know these big guns have done this sort of Bacchanalian lunch thing before. You’ll also know that there’ll be things like exotic Sea bream ceviche and acute tender beef mason and Drunken Lamb on the menu. Of course, they’ll be sangrias and tequilas and a whole lot of animated conversation – the gravitas of which will probably centre around another poet-like figure, a chap ostensibly more continental in nature, notable, in after sight, for the delicate way in which he tilts his cap and makes extravagant gestures over a glass of dry red wine.

But you should probably just go for the stylish tweed jacket and tie combo. Wear a neat smile, and bring along a couple of bone coloured business cards.

I know you’re the sort not to be outdone by some wildly arrogant media harpie.

For non-members too. Priced at GBP 35 per head (excluding drinks), lunch will be served from 1pm to 5pm. Owing to demand, payment must be made in advance to confirm reservation.

To make a booking, call 020 7734 5399 or email moira@blacksclub.com.

7 Dean Street
Soho, London
W1D 4QH

If you wanted to define ‘Quintessentially British’, then sooner or later after you’d been through the usual suspects (Beefeaters, cups of tea, endless Jordan autobiographies) you’d soon come to Noel Coward. Famous for some of the wittiest plays ever written, including Private Lives, Blithe Spirit and Design For Living, he was also a fairly considerable singer-songwriter, responsible for such standards as Someday I’ll Find You, Mad Dogs and Englishmen and London Pride.

Yet perhaps because he’s seen as ‘old-fashioned’, his work isn’t performed nearly as often as it ought to be. Therefore, we should all welcome the return of the revue Cowardy Custard, which was first staged in 1972. Of course, portmanteau shows of this nature are quite common now, but this one is infinitely classier and more subtle than the norm, as well as much, much funnier, thanks to the performers, Dillie Keane from Fascinating Aida and the wonderfully witty piano-playing duo Kit and the Widow. It promises to be a stirring, hilarious and even moving romp through Coward’s enviable career.

Kit Hesketh, of Kit and the Widow, says: “The show is such a fantastic introduction to Coward because he was such a rich and varied songwriter and covered everything from heartbreak to really funny stuff. Coward was just brilliant and I don’t think there has been his equal before or since. It was not just a case of combining his talents as an actor and playwright, but he was also a composer, lyricist, spy, man about town and a brilliant diarist. People said that his was a typical upper class, right-wing, out-of-date Englishness, but in fact he was a lower-middle class boy from Teddington who kept his finger on the pulse – and that can be seen in songs like London pride which he wrote in the war. He knew how people felt.”

It’s nearly finished a hugely successful tour across England, but there’s a final chance for those living in London to see it, as it’s coming to the Richmond Theatre for a very brief appearance from June 2-4. So get your cravat out of the cupboard and head down (to what is, coincidentally, one of the country’s loveliest Frank Matcham theatres) for what promises to be a splendid, and highly civilised, evening’s entertainment.

The Green, Richmond, TW9. www.ambassadortickets.com/

Tommy Nutter produced bespoke tailoring with a particular brand of eccentricity that can only be described as ‘English’. A generous smattering of the witty but perfectly formed creations he produced during his twenty year career, can be seen at the Fashion and Textiles Museum all summer long.

The museum has been transformed into Savile Row circa 1969 with iron railings and sketched building facades framing Nutter’s distinctively cut and flamboyant suits. His tongue-in-cheek approach offset with masterful cutting dragged Savile Row, kicking and screaming (perhaps), into the modern age.

Accompanied by a host of celebrity clients, Nutter blew the cobwebs out of the corners of a cloistered world and thrust it into the limelight. The exhibition features suits worn by Mick Jagger, Elton John, The Beatles, Charlie Watts and Robin Gibb, which make the descriptive labels read like a rock-and-roll Hall of Fame.

The exhibition is co-curated by Timothy Everest who trained with Nutter in the late 1980s and provides us with an invaluable insider view on Tommy’s world. Everest’s personal memories of working with Nutter have helped recreate the ambience of the Nutter atelier, with both the studio and shop floor having been authentically replicated, giving the visitor an idea of what went on behind the shiny black doors and big brass door knockers of Savile Row.

The flair and individuality of the clothes on display is a testament to bespoke tailoring which can realise personal taste in a way no other mode of fashion can. So if you fancy yourself a dramatic black and white all-in-one pantsuit then get yourself an appointment at Savile Row.

The museum are also running a range of events, so if you, like a certain young gentleman I know, think that you can make a dazzling pair of suit trousers by drawing around your legs and sewing it together, then you might just learn a trick or two by booking into the tailoring workshops on offer during June and July. For more information click here.

The Tommy Nutter- Rebel On the Row exhibition is at the Fashion and Textiles Museum, near London Bridge. Opening times Tues-Sat 11am- 6pm.

The dulcet tones of Italian singing sensation Mario Biondi are currently providing the soundtrack for the latest Peroni Nastro Azzurro ad campaign. Biondi is a multi-platinum selling soul star in his native Italy, and has DJ Norman Jay to thank for a strong and ever-growing following in the UK. We sat down with the soulful crooner himself to talk lyrics, luxury and life.

Q: Your cover of Temptations classic ‘My Girl’ really captures the essence of Italian ‘joie de vivre’. Why do you think Peroni approached you for the advertisement?

Peroni are known to work with people and brands that really capture the essence of Italy, as the brand does itself. I think my Italian heritage played a large part in their selection, as well as the deep, soulful tone of my voice for which I am known for across Italy. The Peroni advert was all about the unique and spontaneous Italian ‘joie de vivre’ that is unmatched by anyone else in the world, and I think that I’ve captured this in the past through a number of my songs.

Q: Do you think the advert has achieved what it set out to do?

Absolutely. We have managed to capture an authentic and beautiful Italian moment which conveys the charm and timeless elegance of an Italian summer. Much of the footage that was used in the final cut was footage that the crew caught off the cuff – things like the girl with rollers in her hair and the breaking lipstick were shots that captured that Italian essence in their own right. I think the soundtrack ties it all in perfectly.

Q: Where does the inspiration for your own music come from?

Me myself and I… I really have few outside influences when it comes to composing my own songs and writing lyrics. My music comes mostly from the mood that is inside my soul at any particular moment – I find that words come together from all sorts of areas.

Q: Your music seems like it is full of thought and colour. Would you say you could describe your music as a series of colours?

White is definitely a colour of my music, for its purity, and for being the colour of the conveying of real feelings. Yellow, too, for the warmness of the lower tones of my music, probably with a bit of black thrown in – capturing the romantic mood of my music (and corresponding with the fact that I usually compose at night!)

Q: How would you describe happiness in three words?

Joy, serenity, children

Q: And finally, what’s your definition of luxury?

Rather than measuring luxury by riches or finery, I take a different perspective and have a different perception of the term – my measure of luxury is more things like the way I feel when I’m in a creative zone, or in love even. This is when I am at my happiest, so I see these as life’s true luxuries.

www.mariobiondi.com

Watch the Peroni ad here

Kettner’s in Soho. The place is legendary.

Oscar Wilde, Edward v-eleven, Lillie Langtry, Agatha Christie. Me. We all came here.

I was born with the gift of quiet, speculative laughter, and a sense that the world was mad. I was born with a love for sweet bubbly things, and strange word pairings, and rebellious looking girls who like to tune a guitar.

I sit down on the high stool and Peter comes over with the Champagne menu. The girl starts to sing Moulin Rouge-style – a long, mellow ballad with vibrant overtones – and I promise myself I will come again, on my own, when no ones looking, and probably in disguise (Cyrano de Bergerac, perhaps).

He puts down a glass of Nyetimber Classic Cuvee 2005, and quickly disappears into a gilded nook where a trio of starlets hold fort, then over to the Laurent-Perrier and Charles Heidsieck and Vilmart Grand Réserve (from the exquisite Rilly-La-Montagne region); then he fills two glasses of golden stars for London’s most talented chanteuse – probably called Tallulah Tonic or Mika Doo.

“Our aim is to seduce you with a cheerful mixture of vintage tunes and enough red lipstick to keep every laundry in London busy for a whole month.” It says on the card.

I raise an eyebrow, and Peter has a sparkle in his eye. He has soul. You need it to work here, they say.

My blackberry goes. Chansons & Champagne can wait for my date in the Brasserie.

An actress, she looks the part in this place. ‘Fun, delicious, and semi-sinful’, they do a ‘coquettes’ night to bring back the glory days of aforesaid Cleopatra. She’s on the Rosé, talking to the waiter, also French. He’s got a sparkle in his eye, and he suggests Seared Turbot and King Scallops with Caviar Beurre Blanc. Other theatrical folk have it, but I get another glass of Pretty Gorgeous Rosé – also French – and start on a Crotin of Goats Cheese & Roasted Beetroot.

Hey, you famous here? She says. I think so, I reply, unsteadily, looking at myself in the mirror.

Beef Bourguignon, Smoked Bacon, Button Mushrooms and mashed potatoes. Not bad at all. Perfect with a glass of red 2006 Chateau Nicot.  Crispy Sea Bass with Poached Rhubarb & Minted Peas. White Chocolate Mousse and warm Chocolate Torte to finish off. She’s feeling a little emotional. But this is no time for emotions. Indulgence is not supposed to be emotional, I say.

Upstairs, and round about somewhere in this humungous Georgian house there’s The Attic Bar, The Salle, The Den. Aesthetic marvels to hire for corporate folk to feel inspired. A private rendezvous in Tête à Tête for Cyrano and his muse. Next door, A French film directors party gets underway in The Apartment, complete with casting couches, drinks cabinet and grand piano.

The Chanteuse, sitting on the bar, stiletto tapping gravely, is still making sounds as she pulls out a ukulele. Peter is already swilling the Champagne, and smiling at us and pulling out a stool.

Every woman is a rebel, after all.

www.kettners.com/home/