|
Contact: info@bownsbest.com
Home - Austria - Benelux - France & Monaco - Germany - Russia - Spain - Sweden - Switzerland - Turkey - United Kingdom - United States |
||
|
VENICE HOTEL CIPRIANI
This monument to watery hedonism sits amidst plush gardens, for which the word ‘manicured’ might have been invented. Among these acres – and remember, gardens (like swimming pools) are not exactly two-a-penny in Venice – are tennis courts and the pathway to the two annexes. Actually, these ‘annexes’ are exquisitely restored palaces, called the Palazzo Vendramin and the Palazzetto – which look directly across the water towards the Doge’s Palace. Many years ago I stayed in one of these palaces, but on this visit I was billeted in the main building. From the hallway were doors to the bedroom and the sitting room. The latter I estimated to be about 24 feet by 15 feet. The table lamps by the stone fireplace were made from 18th century silver candlesticks. On the wall was silk damask, its cream colour toning in with the beige of the carpeting. Set within the ceiling were 14 spotlights. Around the chairs and on the sofa – I could easily have seated eleven guests – were numerous silk cushions. Here and there were pieces of antique furniture, like the writing desk. Within gilt frames on the walls were 18th century pastoral scenes. Through the four windows – as through all nine windows of the suite – were views (pictured) of the Venetian lagoon. The large television contained a dvd player, which enabled me to play Mozart – thus bringing to this most civilized of apartments the most civilized of music. It was a temptation to stay in this lovely suite each morning for my early comestibles. But I am glad I did not. For The Cipriani, when the weather is fair, provides one of the most enjoyable experiences of breakfast you will find on this earth. Imagine the scene. I am comfortably settled in a metal armchair on the restaurant terrace, with extra cushions brought by the helpful staff. I am at table number 24, in a shaded corner, close to the water and with my back to a wall. Before me is a white tablecloth of crisp linen. All around blooms of white and yellow smile their flowery smiles in the warm sunshine. In the distance the bell tower of the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore rises pristine into the blue sky. To my table are brought silver pots of iced coffee, and from the buffet I have already secured dishes of melon, strawberries, pineapple, sliced oranges, poached pears and a plate with a slice of strawberry tart – all of exceptional quality. Then arrives, under a silver dome, a grilled sole, which is expertly boned and plated by my table and put before me. Life really does not get much better than this.
Allow me to take you through my dinner, as the waiters in short white jackets with epaulettes – expertly overseen by the suave Restaurant Manager, Luciano Pradissito – brought from the kitchen to my table four thoroughly enjoyable courses. First came a lukewarm salad of white and green asparagus, with quails’ eggs and a black truffle dressing – delicate and delicious. Then it was a gorgeous and richly satisfying pasta – gratinated thin green taglierini with ham. The main course was roasted loin of lamb in a pistachio crust – as fine a piece of meat as you will encounter, precisely cooked (pink) and full of flavour. I passed on the cheese – although I counted 29 on the cheese menu – and ended with hazelnut and honey parfait with apricot sauce. (You should around 110 euros for four courses, and note that with both the food and the wine 10% VAT has to be added to the prices.) My own bottles came from Tuscay. My white was a big, bold, almost treacly chardonnay, with lots of vanilla (Capannelle, 2005 - 52ε, half), and my red was the 1995 vintage of one of my favourites – Luce (120ε). Mr Parker described this wine as “like a supermodel strolling down the catwalk”. This did not help me very much, so let me tell you that it was beautifully structured, with robust yet soft tannins and a ravishing abundance of ripe blackcurrants. Thank you, Marianna for this wonderful drinking. And thank you, all my friends at The Cipriani, for a wonderful stay. The fame of The Cipriani is world-wide and entirely merited. The Most Serene Republic is well served by its Most Serene Hotel.
|
|
ADDRESSES
HOTEL CIPRIANI & PALAZZO VENDRAMIN & THE PALAZZETTO
|
||
© Francis Bown 2003
The Cipriani is one of the most famous hotels in the world. It is also one of the best. If I were to occupy a shaded seat next to its swimming pool for the whole season – from March to October – I suspect that I would be able to tick off a considerable percentage of the names in my I-Spy Book of Celebrities. To this blessed plot come those who, by means of their wealth and their good taste, have accustomed themselves to luxurious surroundings and immaculate service. Many of them also require privacy, and The Cipriani – of all the hotels in Venice – is probably the best placed to give it to them, for it enjoys a privileged position on the Giudecca, a five minute ride (and a whole planetary system) away from the crowds which mill around the Basilica of San Marco. The hotel, of course, has its own very smart launch to transport guests to and from St Mark’s Square, and it is a particular joy to be able so easily to venture into and to retreat from the throbbing centre of La Serenissima.
Let me linger for a moment at the swimming pool, not to tell you of those I spotted there – like The Cipriani itself, I am the soul of discretion – but to record its size. In a city in which hotels simply do not have swimming pools, this vast rectangle of blue water is astonishing. Its length is just a couple of feet short of that required by Olympians. Why is it so big? Well, the story goes – and I was assured of its veracity by Laura Di Bert (pictured), the charming and vivacious young lady who deals with the hotel’s public relations – that the architect who designed it was English. He put down the dimensions in feet; but the Italian builders naturally supposed that the figures referred to metres… Thus did The Cipriani acquire one of its chief assets.
But before I was shown upstairs, I spied an old friend. I last saw Giampaolo Ottazzi at the Hotel Caruso, in Ravello. Now he is the Manager here. He was, as always, beautifully turned out – as I hope you can tell from the photograph which I had taken of the two of us. I like to think that high sartorial standards signify excellence in other areas, too, and Mr Ottazzi is certainly a model of courtesy, charm and efficiency. And then another familiar face appeared – Front Office Manager Francesco Berto, previously encountered in Tuscany, at the Cala del Porto in Punta Ala.
After these happy conversations I went up to my room on the second floor. The Cipriani is not a place where you watch the pennies with regard to your accommodation – after all, two-thirds of its ninety-odd rooms are suites. There are, of course, some (relatively) cheap rooms (from around 950 euros) – which are comfortable, stylish and well-equipped. But occasionally you deserve something quite grand, do you not? Let me therefore recommend to you my own billet, number 224. The Guinness family once owned The Cipriani and this is one of the three ‘Guinness Suites’ – known officially, and more prosaically, as an ‘Exclusive Lagoon View Suite’. This can be so organized that it has two bedrooms and a terrace on the very top of the building. I had it with one bedroom. The cost was therefore 4,158 euros a night, bed and breakfast for two.
Between the drawing room and my sleeping quarters, was the bathroom, a handsome chamber of pink marble, potted palms and Bulgari toiletries. The loo (with a bidet) and the shower were in separate compartments. My tub was large and round and was possessed of a Jacuzzi facility. I had never used this sort of machinery before. Emboldened, perhaps, by the sixteen electric bulbs around the mirror above the wash basins – an arrangement which suggested theatrical dressing rooms and dashing thespians – I decided to experience the effect of ‘water agitation’. It was not unpleasant, but I decided not to try it again. I prefer my bath to be a place for recollection in tranquility. Henceforth that is what it was, for the entire suite – except for my Mozart – was blissfully quiet.
My sleeping was done beneath a Raffael Madonna – or, to be accurate, beneath a decent copy of the same. The other oil paintings in the bedroom were originals, I think. The chandelier and wall lights of Murano crystal cast their beams upon walls lined with silk of rose pink. Mirrors – on the doors of the fitted wardrobes and on the folding cover hiding the television receiver – multiplied the sense of space in this spacious room, which easily accommodated a three-seater sofa.
This was at the Restaurant Fortuny. The hotel has another dining room – Cip’s, with its terrace looking over the water to St Mark’s – but I confined my attentions to the Fortuny. Here Chef de Cuisine Renato Piccolotto offers food which is deeply satisfying. There is nothing here to frighten the horses, and nor should there be. Chef Piccolotto takes ingredients of the highest quality and fashions them with considerable skill into dishes which appeal to his sophisticated and experienced clientele. 
With the wine list came another familiar face – that of Marianna Cappotto (pictured). I last spoke to this splendid lady when she was in Ravello. Now she is the sommelière here, and presides with her customary charm and expertise over the cellar’s 475 offerings. The list divides its wines into types – “light and crisp white wines” and so on. (The older vintages are in the “great wines and unique vintages” section, which gives Mr Parker’s scores and comments for each wine.) It is good to see not only grapes given, but also alcohol percentages. Prices range from 39ε for a red from the Veneto to 5,000ε for the 1998 Pétrus. 1997 Solaia is 1,000ε and 2000 Mouton Rothschild is 1,200ε.
