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NAPLES THE GRAND HOTEL PARKER’S
Early one morning in 1889 the marine biologist George Parker Bidder was asleep in bed when the local bailiff arrived at his favourite billet to confiscate it because of the owner’s gambling debts. Woken by the commotion, Mr Bidder enquired through his door as to what was going on. Told by the distraught hotelier that his beloved establishment was now for sale, With hotels, I find first impressions important. Here they are excellent. The steep road outside (for we are near the top of the hill) is busy – but, then, every Neapolitan road is busy. There is therefore a lovely contrast when – in through the attractive Liberty façade – all is quiet, calm and supremely elegant. Gilt, marble, fine fabrics and antiques give the lobby and its spacious adjacent sitting areas a real sense of luxury. This is not a large hotel – there are just 83 bedrooms – but it has an impressive sense of grandeur. Much of the décor is French. Indeed, each floor of bedrooms is decorated in its own style from France. Some are Empire, others are Louis XVI, Directoire and so on. This attention to detail is to be applauded, and I expect former guests did applaud it. They have included Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw and …Lenin. Clearly, the hotel’s appeal has always been wide. Today you can also enjoy something new: a little spa on the first floor, a tempting haven of trickling water and greenery.
Each morning I brought from the buffet to my yellow tablecloth plates of ham and melon, dishes of pineapple and strawberries, croissants and slices of crusty bread (with which I enjoyed – as so many hotel guests around the world do – marmalade made in Tiptree in Essex by Wilkin & Son). All these comestibles, together with coffee in silver pots, ensured that my days in Naples started well.
A fried egg with polenta, asparagus and gorgonzola sauce was old-fashioned and well done. Steamed asparagus with grapefruit and roasted almonds was properly balanced. Zucchini mille-feuille with tomatoes and mushrooms looked and tasted very well indeed. Chateaubriand was a tasty piece of beef from Tuscany. Roasted duck with honey was full of flavour. And lemon caramel cream with raspberry sauce was simple and good. (You should allow 75-80 euros for four courses.) The 180 wines offered are, apart from the champagne (Krug Grande Cuvée is 183ε), Italian. Prices range from 21ε for a local white to 240ε for Mr Gaja’s 2004 Darmagi cabernet from Piedmont. 1998 50 & 50 is 113ε and 2004 Tignanello is 92ε. From my own drinking, I will commend to you the lovely 2003 Lucente (the second wine of my favourite, Luce), which caressed my mouth and throat with its soft tannins and abundance of ripe blackberries and brambles (61ε). After these gastronomic pleasures, I retired to my apartment each night and, before going upstairs to the Land of Nod, stood on my little balcony and looked out across Naples. It is, indeed, a wonderful city – despite its taxi drivers. If you are going to visit, I can recommend The Grand Hotel Parker’s.
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ADDRESSES
THE GRAND HOTEL PARKER’S
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© Francis Bown 2003
Naples is a wonderful city. True, in the last one hundred years, it has not been an affluent place. Yet that has been its blessing. It has meant that it has escaped the attentions of those barbarians of the twentieth century – the architects and the town planners. Many of its buildings might be a bit decrepit, but at least they have not been demolished to make way for concrete monstrosities. Of course, one has to be careful how one gets about. Neapolitan taxi drivers are notorious for – how shall I put it delicately? – the ‘enthusiasm’ with which they extract the maximum amount of cash from their passengers. I have been a victim of their remarkable calculations more than once. But those of us who love art will not be put off. We know that we will always find something new and glorious to see here. (On my most recent visit I popped into the Palazzo Stigliano to look at Caravaggio’s last painting, The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula.) And there is another draw, too – a truly fine hotel. The Grand Hotel Parker’s even has a charming story about its name. 
Mr Bidder – with that combination of languor and extreme wealth for which the Englishman Abroad was once famous – called out, “Put the hotel on my bill,” and went back to his slumbers. Thus did an expert on the life of the sponge ensure that the name above the door would be not The Grand Hotel, but The Grand Hotel Parker’s.
My own room – number 411 – was a ‘bi-level suite’. (I suggest that you look at the internet to find its price, which changes considerably from day to day.) I entered into its hall (off which was a cloakroom with a loo) and immediately liked the sense of light and elegance. The sitting room measured about 18 feet by 11 feet. Its walls were white and on its parquet floor was a red Persian carpet. Its pieces of mahogany furniture included a circular dining table and four chairs. The velvet of the two-seater sofa was green. Through the French window was a little balcony, with a pleasing view (pictured) over the city’s roofs to the Bay of Naples. A staircase of white marble steps took me up – past a marble urn on a pedestal – to the bedroom, which overlooked the sitting room. Again, there was a parquet floor. In the fitted wardrobes was a private safe. The bathroom was of modest size, with one wash basin, a bath tub and a bidet. I decided I would be comfortable in this billet.
Eating at Parker’s is done on the sixth floor, in George’s Restaurant. (Once more, the name comes from our friendly marine biologist.) Breakfast on the terrace here I found a particular joy, for the panorama spread out before me was so impressive: a lovely confection of tiled domes, palm trees and the island of Capri floating seductively in the distance. The bronze ladies were quite seductive, as well. They adorn the balustrade and stare out, impervious to admiring glances from such as your correspondent.
And they ended well, too. In the evenings I enjoyed the same panorama from behind a wall of plate glass. Inside the long, low room of George’s, the tablecloths were red, the carpet was blue and the columns were mirrored. I did not care for the canned music, but the maitre d’ – the affable and efficient Stefano Mancini – had it turned off for me. Then the waiters in black tie brought to me the carefully prepared creations of Chef Vincenzo Baciòt. Allow me to give you the highlights of my meals.