I’ve written here about visiting a historic hotel —The Algonquin, in New York—and the disappointment of finding the place renovated but stripped of its soul and beautiful history.
Now I tried to repeat the dose in London. The heatwave (40 degrees centigrade) made me laugh nervously at the bolsominion hoax of the flat earth with no climatic emergency. And, in parallel with the World’s 50 Best Restaurants award activities, which took me to the city, I looked again for historical sites to research how the past survives, in practice.
I was at The Dorchester hotel, which retains its majesty (and its prices that I wouldn’t be able to bear if I weren’t invited) and its gastronomic brilliance, which I’ll talk about later. If the room and the kind service — which doesn’t even seem to be ritual — remain impeccable, I stumbled upon the ground floor in full swing.
The entrance hardly seems improvised… except for those who have seen that stunning lobby: I remember the pain of visiting it after it was forbidden to smoke there, a place that was both the perfect anteroom for a prudish afternoon tea and the indispensable setting for a cigar. sinful.
Of those banal experiences for the one percent, but special for those who, regardless of having money, believe that any human being (therefore excluding fascists) deserves the best in life.
In addition to The Dorchester –whose lobby I promise I’ll try to check it out when it’s ready–, I also passed by another hotel that is much older, and with complete renovation: Brown’s.
“Old hotel” doesn’t quite describe Brown’s. First because, according to them, it is the oldest in London (it was born in 1837 and is full of history, of course, like hosting the first telephone call in history, made by inventor Alexander Graham Bell).
And second, because “ancient” can suggest an old, outdated place. And behold, some fifteen years after having stayed there just once, and having found it a little… old, I found a place full of vigor.
It seems that this has to do with the group that acquired it, an international but small chain called Roccoforte.
Interesting that the ground floor does not have a monumental lobby. Maybe it wasn’t the rule 185 years ago. The entrance is almost modest, a corridor with side exits — to the left is the restaurant, to the right, the afternoon tea room, and, at the end of it, the Donovan bar, a jewel of ambience and cocktails that I discovered with pleasure.
The room, in addition to being comfortable and sober (otherwise it is tiring and gives nightmares), it had what is minimally expected from a place with this tradition and price — such as a sofa (I hate reading or watching TV lying on the bed) and a bidet in the bathroom (hygiene is the least to expect).
If the creative drinks at the bar were a wonderful surprise, Charlie’s restaurant – still a bit heavy in decor, but with great comfort and service – brought me the joy of finding old English cuisine updated.
Like: the cart with the roast of the day (on my day, whole sirloin steak, with the indispensable Yorkshire pudding and potatoes roasted in duck fat).
I still like to stay in homes where we have a kitchen when traveling, a trend that I cultivated even before there were apps like Airbnb. And, if I only want to stay in the city for four days, with a full schedule and no time to cook, I look for small charming hotels that fit my budget.
But if I have the chance to investigate big hotels on business, today I dive into history through them. The renovated Brown’s was a good choice. As for The Dorchester’s new lobby, still under construction, it’s already in my sights, even though it has, by law, banned cigars.
