Ok, so Castle Howard is the actual stand-in for Brideshead, but you could easily be fooled as you crunch up the long driveway. They say you can’t buy class, but I can assure you, based on this latest visit, that is just not true. I’m still brushing the glitter off my shoulders several days later. The only thing missing was Sebastian Flyte trailing Aloysius the teddy bear across the lawn behind him.

Regular readers will know that Mrs Nigel and I scooted off to Cliveden earlier this year in my mid-life crisis red convertible to luxuriate in one of Britain’s best hotel experiences. We had been on a number of occasions in the past and were quite excited. Sadly, as the last review shows, it was not a Kitchen Nightmare, but not far off.

A Maidenhead Number Popped Up on My Phone

Being a lazy sort, rather than summarise my grievances in an email, I sent the review off to Cliveden. Imagine my surprise when a Maidenhead number popped up on my phone about 45 minutes later: The management were stirred. It would be inappropriate for me to relay the exact conversation, but let it be said it ended with an offer to come back for a comped bed and breakfast stay for a couple of nights later in the year (Nota Bene St Pancras Hotel, who are still on the naughty step). I can say this now, but so annoyed was I by the last stay, and so sceptical that the management team could really pull things around, I was very tempted to let the offer lapse. Yes, it’s a beautiful hotel, but the meals and drinks would not be cheap even for 2 days, and if it all worked out the same as the last visit, the money would have been better spent at one of my other favourite haunts.

But a weekend opened up in the busy Noshes travel schedule, so Mrs N and I decided we’d take the offer, and while we were there, try the food again in the main dining room and the Astor Grill (twice).

Promoted from Round the Back

It was a glorious day, and we arrived with the hood firmly down (did I mention the mid-life crisis motor?). We pulled up in a prime posing spot right by the front of the house, next to a very nice Morgan, which regular readers will recognise as a considerable promotion on a previous visit, when I was waved round the back like a man delivering the fish. Within seconds, someone appeared to take our bags, and our magic carpet ride began.

From a service perspective, everything was perfect. It was clear that our name had been mentioned in dispatches as the manager I had spoken with came across to introduce himself, and whenever we were asked for our room name or surname, there seemed to be a very slight bit of extra pep in step of the staff. On a number of occasions, someone stopped, greeted us by name, and asked how we were doing, what we had been up to, and in every case it was friendly, often enthusiastic, and never once obsequious or hollow. They may yet have been spitting in the food, but you would never have known it. And while I feel we got just that little bit more of the film star treatment than we might otherwise, the same overall level of service seemed to be meted out to every guest, and I know that is what the Cliveden management team wanted. So well done to them, and a huge thank you to the staff who made us feel so welcome.

Room with a (Re)view

We were back in a Mansion Deluxe room, which overlooks the grand drive coming up to the house. In terms of room and view combo quality, it is as good as a suite at the Hotel Leopoldskron in Salzburg, which is the Schloss used in The Sound of Music, with one of the most idyllic lake views in the world. While the Cliveden view might not set you off skipping and singing in quite the same way, the rooms are beautifully appointed, with high ceilings, comfortable beds, an actually usable sitting area and great bathrooms (well, some of them). The room to go for, if you can bear the embarrassment of repeating it in public, is Barry (Sir Charles would be spinning in his grave to know that his name is now more associated with Gavin & Stacey/American hitmen, depending on where you are reading this…). It was a wrench to leave after 2 days.

Sayonara, Wasabi Peanuts

Many of the issues I had raised before, things like the room snacks and selection in the Butler’s Pantry, had all been resolved, and the complimentary snacks are no longer a minefield of wasabi peanuts and trail mix for a man with a peanut allergy, which I am choosing to record as a personal victory. It’s a shame the terrace that you might have taken your drinks out on to has been requisitioned for a Champagne Bar (we shivered out there last time as the sun went down), but it is such a beautiful spot, I didn’t really begrudge it.

There were so many little things (like the world’s best turndown service and the welcome half bottle of Champagne), that made the actual stay impeccable.

Drinks were great. A stellar Negroni, and I think a new wine supplier as we had a Mâcon-Solutré and Sancerre to die for (the latter definitely from Daly’s, who can do no wrong in my eyes). Mrs N had a glass of very nice Champagne. None of this is overly cheap, but compared to Central London (and for the quality), exactly what I would have expected, so no complaints at all. And the bar snacks have got much, much better: no real need for dinner if you snag a second round, which they kept offering.

It May Have Been a Good Sole in Life

But it would not be one of my reviews if I didn’t bring up some of the bum notes as well. I’m 100% sold on going back, don’t get me wrong, but it will be for the amazing atmosphere, service and pool, but still not for the food…

So, things are not at the rather low level they were last time, which is a relief: I didn’t have to send my main course back (quite). I’d say the food is about 60/40, which is still 40 short of where it needs to be.

If I had to generalise, I’d say that it’s still the hot food that disappoints (apart from the cooked breakfast, which passed the scrambled egg test with flying colours – You really can’t (or shouldn’t) have a Negroni with breakfast, so it’s the only other reasonable quality test).

Mrs N had a really excellent ham hock starter in the main dining room, and I had a pretty good venison tartare (I could not resist), made much better when I tracked down some Tabasco (I should not have had to ask). We had the most expensive main courses (£60 each), one of our favourite dishes, Dover sole. Mrs N and I have walked from North Kent to Dartmouth round Britain’s coastline as we attempt to win a Knighthood for completing the King Charles III England Coast Path (at least I hope that’s what we get, because some of it is hard work!), and along the way have had some beautifully cooked Dover sole. Light, often with a citrus or caper sauce, a dish almost impossible to screw up by anyone who has handled a frying pan before.

Not so here. The plates (we were told) were too hot to hold (they were not), a nod, I think, to my complaints about how Cliveden food has too far to travel from the kitchen. The fish was tepid (I think a little theatre with a cloche would serve a double purpose in this most elegant of dining rooms). But worse, it was tough. I’m not sure what indignities the fish suffered, but it might have been poached or left in the oven for a few days, hard to tell, but it was not good. And the sauce did absolutely nothing to lift it. Even some lemon in gauze would have gone some way to lift the fish (which was hard with just knife and fork). It may have been a good sole in life, but it died in vain.

And the cheese. Always nice to have a cheese board explained to you, but some of what we got was well OTT, and I know there is a shift towards an all-British cheese board, but honestly, if you are going to serve French-style cheeses, just get the original. There is no such thing as “British Camembert”.

Ritz Money, and It Ain’t Ritz Quality

The Astor Grill suffered in the same way. Very good first courses (amazing salmon carpaccio, a very good prawn cocktail and a brilliant goats cheese salad for lunch the day before), but the mains were not great. The “Grilled Leg of Herdwick Lamb” was a sorry excuse for itself, especially as it was the most expensive thing, and really not worth it. Of course, I had to ask the question again about whether the burger was made on the premises. A better answer than last time, in that they no longer just admit to buying it in, though “it comes from our trusted supplier” still tells you what you need to know about how much the kitchen cares. This is Ritz money, people, and I can tell you, it ain’t Ritz quality.

A quick dishonourable mention to the “Superfood Salad”. It is not supposed to be an endurance test, nor the culinary equivalent of a hair shirt. A bit of blanching, some better chopping, maybe? And was that bought-in balsamic glaze? And the service at lunch still needs a bit of a tweak (it was perfect in the evening). It was, to say the least, pushy, that is when it wasn’t reluctant. I honestly do know whether I want chips or a side (especially with my salad), so please, leave me be…

Recalibrating the Negroni Test

Which brings me, as these things always do, to the Negroni. Regular readers will remember that the OXO Tower Negroni appeared to have lied to me, promising a meal that never turned up. It turned out that it had simply answered a different question to the one I thought I was asking it, and that what it had been predicting all along was the mood of the evening rather than the state of the plates. Cliveden has now pulled the same trick on me twice. A fabulous Negroni last time sat alongside food I sent back, and a stellar one this time sat alongside a sole that had clearly been through something unspeakable, and yet on this occasion the drink told me exactly how the stay itself was going to feel, which is glorious. So either the test needs recalibrating, and I have to accept that the thing I have been holding up to the light all these years is a barometer for the whole experience rather than for the kitchen, or I need a second cocktail running alongside it, something that reports back directly from the stoves – After a second cocktail, everything tastes good, after all.

Arriving with My Own Tabasco

But as I said, overall an amazing stay. I’ve been far too kind here to ever get comped another stay, but I am going to keep a weather eye on other reviews to see how the food is doing. I noticed in a review this week that Giles Coren loves Cliveden: He was looking to stay the same weekend as us, but it was full. Sorry, Giles, my fault. So, I’ll see what he has to say next time he goes, and I’ll be back as soon as he gives it the thumbs up. Which brings us to Aloysius, because Sebastian carried that bear everywhere for the very good reason that the bear could be relied upon when the house could not. After two visits I have come to much the same arrangement with Cliveden: I adore the place, I trust the staff completely, and next time I shall simply arrive with my own bottle of Tabasco tucked under one arm.

Conclusion

Overall Rating: 5/5

• Food: 3.5/5
• Drinks: 5/5
• Service: 6/5
• Ambiance: 5/5
• Accommodation: 5/5
• Value for Money: 4/5
• Negroni: 5/5 (but see above)
• Price: ££££
• Would we go back? Yes, and often, but I may have to eat at the local pub.

Cliveden House: https://www.clivedenhouse.co.uk/