France

ST JEAN CAP FERRAT

GRAND HÔTEL DU CAP FERRAT

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France I have few things in common with the evil Captain Hook, who made life so difficult for Peter Pan. But there is one experience we have shared. We have both been frightened by a crocodile. I recall that the Captain met his timely end in the jaws of one. My own encounter with the said animal was altogether less dramatic. Indeed, it was quite pleasurable - for the meeting took place in the manicured gardens of one of the finest hotels in Europe, and the beast in question was made of concrete. This magic moment was recorded by my photographer. You will note from the picture that, when I met my amphibious friend, I was wearing a striped blazer and a Panama hat, and that I was clutching a silver-topped Malacca cane. Such garb is not appropriate for trekking through swamps; but I judged it entirely right for the grounds of that grande dame of hostelries on the French Riviera, the wonderful Grand Hôtel du Cap Ferrat.

Since 1908 this Belle Époque palace between Nice and Cannes has been dispensing hospitality to those of good taste and adequate means. And no wonder, for the hotel takes full advantage of her privileged position in these beautiful surroundings. At the top of the hill, she opens her white arms in a gesture of welcome to the golden sun, and looks over green, sloping lawns to a terrace with one of the finest views in France. A path then leads to a lift of steel and glass (pictured), which glides down over the rock face to the famous swimming pool and its Club Dauphin, where the world’s lotus-eaters dip and bathe as bright mornings drift into warm afternoons.

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France I first stayed at this lovely property TTBTR (The Time Before The Royce), a far-off age when I struggled around Europe in a small car of foreign manufacture. In those days it was my habit to dress for dinner, and I found that the sight of my black tie occasionally encouraged fellow guests to strike up conversation. A Belgian gentleman at Cap Ferrat told me, in perfect English, of his large collection of grand motors and of his ability, in one of his Ferraris, to drive from his home country to the hotel in an alarmingly short time. ‘And what,’ he asked, ‘do you drive?’ Strangely, I suddenly fell into French. ‘Une voiture très, très petite, monsieur,’ I replied. I think I might also have blushed.

Now, of course, the Silver Cloud delivers me in style. She enjoys the grandest hotels, and along no drive does she purr more contentedly than along that which leads to the Grand Hôtel du Cap Ferrat. I think my shoes might enjoy coming here, too – for they seem to click even more crisply than usual as I make my way across the marble floors of the public rooms. Those rooms, like all the parts of this establishment, are immaculately maintained. If this lady were human, she would not have a hair out of place.

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France My room, number 111, was a ‘Superior Sea View’ and therefore 1,200 euros a night, breakfast extra. From its little hall (with the wardrobe and safe), I turned left into the bedroom, a chamber of moderate size, decorated in tones of yellow and green in the Vad style (vaguely Art Deco). Through its French window was a small balcony, on which I could take the air before dinner, gazing over the palm trees to the Mediterranean. These were marvellous pre-prandial moments, as you will readily appreciate from the picture of my view. One thing, however, let this billet down – the bathroom. For sure, it contained half a quarry of marble, but it was simply too small. Quite how the bath tub, the two wash basins, the loo and the bidet had been crammed into so tiny a space I could not fathom, any more than I could devise a way of performing my ablutions with any degree of comfort. The hotel has new owners. I was told that they are planning to spend vast sums on their acquisition. I know that the splendid and ever-dapper General Manager, Michel Galopin, knows very well about ‘the bathroom problem’, so I have every expectation that on my next visit I will be able to shave and bathe in the spacious luxury to which I am accustomed.

Chef Didier, Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France One change has already occurred, and it brings the Grand Hôtel du Cap Ferrat into the very top division of the word’s luxury hotels. It has a brilliant – truly brilliant – new chef. I have always enjoyed the food here, and have often thought that it should be more highly rated by the guides. But my dinner on this visit convinced me that Chef Didier Anies (pictured), who used to be in charge of the stoves at the Hotel Mirabeau in Mont Carlo, is one of the brightest culinary stars in France. What I loved about my meal was that there was not the slightest dip in standards throughout my four courses. Conception, ingredients, execution and presentation were all near-perfect. Here, I knew, was a chef of rare talent.

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France I had taken my place on the restaurant terrace, for the evening was mild. Beyond the floodlit palms was the midnight blue of the sea. From the pine trees spotlights shone down upon my orange tablecloth, as waiters – in formal black and white – moved discreetly between the tables, carrying plates under silver domes. My wicker armchair was supportive, the glasses (made by Spiegelau) on my table gleamed and the pianist meandered over the ivory keys to melodious effect. I discovered that the excellent maitre d’, Christophe Prosper, had once worked at The Connaught in London. I fancied a magnificent evening was in prospect. And it was.

A five course set meal is offered for 135 euros. My four courses from the carte cost 195 euros. I began with a casserole of caramelized vegetables with olive oil and salt. Here was the Mediterranean in a porcelain dish: each ingredient perfectly cooked and the whole managing to be far more than the sum of its parts. And it looked gorgeous. Then came fried duck foie gras with balsamic vinegar and roasted fig with vanilla. It was the subtle balance of delicate flavours which was so impressive here: utterly delicious. My meat course was a contrast. This tender veal came with girolles, grapes, white celery and flat parsley, and was gloriously robust in its tastes and textures. Nor did standards falter with the pudding, a rectangular plate of rhubarb, liquorice and warm strawberries, which brought a smile of contentment to your correspondent. (The restaurant now has a - well deserved - Michelin star.)

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France With such food in such surroundings you would expect to be offered wine of the finest quality. No surprise, then, that the knowledgeable Head Sommelier Joël Rolland, from Nice, can pluck from his cellar some very grand bottles indeed. Where else, I wonder, will you find 68 vintages of Yquem? A few good ‘foreigners’ (like 1999 Tignanello from Italy at 160 euros) are on the list, but, naturally, the overwhelming majority is French. Prices range from 35 euros for a Provençal rosé to 9,300 euros for 1989 Pétrus. 1986 Latour is 1,410 euros and 1989 Haut Brion is 4,250 euros. I asked Monsieur Rolland to recommend a red and a white from the list’s strongest section, Burgundy. He cleverly overturned my expectations by selecting the white (instead of the red) from the Côte de Nuits and the red (instead of the white) from the Côte de Beaune. Clever fellow, for they were both really good. The 2000 Morey-St-Denis (Dujac – 135 euros) had discreet fruit and an intriguing nose of walnut; and the 2002 Savigny-lès-Beaune (Emmanuel Rouget – 140 euros) was full of ripe red fruit and yielded a long, lingering aftertaste of red cherries.

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France It was to a lower terrace I made my way the following morning for the buffet breakfast (45 euros). From here I was able to survey some of the sculptures which decorate the gardens. The only sounds were of birdsong and of the occasional tinkle as a Bernardaud porcelain cup was lowered onto its Bernardaud porcelain saucer. Thus accompanied, I tucked into bacon, sausage and mushrooms, a dish of fresh fruit, croissants and proper coffee from the vacuum pot on my table. I would have liked the table to have a tablecloth – but, even so, this was a most pleasant and soothing start to the day.

I had, of course, had my brush with the crocodile. But I am no Captain Hook. I had shown my usual bravery and had come away unscathed. It is good to have a bit of fun on one’s travels – and lots of elegance, luxury and great food, too. That is why everyone of quality and discernment who has yen for the French Riviera should head straight for the delightful Grand Hôtel du Cap Ferrat.

Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat, St Jean Cap Ferrat, France

France

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