Travel

A man and his meat

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After navigating icy hairpin bends, snow banks and rushing waterfalls, we found our destination concealed in a valley between Lenzerheide and Chur in the Swiss Alps. In hushed tones, we had been told there was to be found a true specialist in the artisan field, who we could not miss visiting whilst we were in the area. The exclusivity of the suggestion was reinforced by the fact we were unlikely to discover his wares outside of the immediate region due to export restrictions. On checking the ‘tip off’ with restaurant and bar staff, we were returned the knowing smiles that experience has shown often lead to culinary excellence. Our interest…

Rome Cavalieri

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Rome Cavalieri, part of the prestigious Waldorf Astoria Group, is nestled in 15 acres of lush Mediterranean park, sitting on the peak of Monte Mario, known locally as the heart of Rome.

Chalet F’Net

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The first chairlift in Europe was built in 1940 in Czechoslovakia, in the Moravian Silesian Beskides mountain range. Before the invention of the modern chairlift, we had the J-bar or cable car. Arguably the main mode of transport up the pistes of Europe was still rope, with mountaineering still favoured by many. With each giant leap forward in mountain technology, small alpine towns were constantly having to cater to larger and larger international footfall. This rapid clash of tradition and modernity often left centuries-old mountain villages looking more like McMountain retreats than classic Montblanc. So, it is deeply refreshing when you arrive in a ‘ski resort’ to find it hasn’t…

Route One – Shelby Mustang GT350R

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I got out of my chequered yellow cab and pushed my way past the airport bus queue, headed for the hotel’s reception. After three days sampling New York’s finest destinations, I was ready to leave the Big Apple, get behind the wheel and onto the road. The journey had seemed endless out to JFK airport, as I knew waiting for me was a car not officially available in the UK. I had already christened it out of homage to its predecessor, the feature car in the film ‘Gone in Sixty Seconds’, Eleanor. Having collected the keys from the front desk, I returned to the parking lot, but was unable to…

School’s out! | Great John Street

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I was last in Manchester for the opening of what was literally a high-level drinking venue – and that was some time ago now. The sounds of the Hacienda that inspired a generation at the hand of Tony Wilson are long since gone too. Groove remains in the heart, but the club that once ‘was’ is now apartments. There has been much construction and sights that remain familiar still exist, but the ‘Madchester’ scene is still alive, vibrant and going from strength to strength. Watch this space, as where The Review goes, others will follow. Having passed Mr Wilson’s old temple of sound. I turn down more modest back streets,…

Le Touessrok Resort and Spa

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There is a voice that doesn’t speak words. Listen. And the more your go within the less you go without. Le Touessrok is a name that you simply whisper; a name that needs no major introduction or fanfare. For those in the know, Le Touessrok has been standing aloof, in a class of its own. Over a quarter of a century ago (yes I am that old), I was fortunate enough to stay for a few cherished days at this refined resort and placed it very firmly on a pedestal. With an invitation to revisit, I was left with mixed emotions. Like reacquainting with a first love, I had a…

La Ferme du Lac Vert

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We arrived late at La Ferme du Lac Vert, in early January. Given that our previous chalet had been without power, the romanticism and affection in which we had spent the last 24, candlelit hours were fading fast. We longed for the warmth of a glowing bulb filament, the feeling in your palms as the tap water begins to run hot and the ability to check in on social media to see what the world had for supper. My main concern was being two hours late for dinner as no one likes to keep strangers waiting. Not to mention it doesn’t solidify a great first impression. As always, I was…

Donnington

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I grew up with a generation that drank beer from dimpled glass mugs. Now a well-documented supping receptacle of the hipster elite, the Great British dimpled beer mug is, for me, a relic of a simpler time. Before pop-up bars and men without enough testosterone tried to grow moustaches, we finished work at Manual Labour Ltd and headed for the local. I suppose it helped that my grandfather came from West Hartlepool, served in three branches of the armed services and did, indeed, drink from a P404. That was the factory name given to the humble mug in 1938 at the Ravenhead Glassworks in St Helens, Lancashire. My grandparents’ family…

ANDERMATT

SWISS ALPS