Flying | Eating | Sleeping

British Airways First Class: London Heathrow to New York JFK

This was a long-planned trip, cashing in miles as a 60th birthday gift for Blondie.

I might as well say from the outset that this was, by a large margin, the best flight I’ve ever taken. The only criticisms that could, conceivably, be made, centre on the pre-boarding experience.

The Concorde Room which BA offers only at Heathrow’s Terminal 5 and JFK’s Terminal 7 are reserved only for passengers holding a First Class boarding card, unlike the regular First Class lounges which are open to top-tier BA and One World frequent flyers. As a result, the large facility at Heathrow doesn’t feel busy; in addition to the main lounge area, there is a separate dining room (pictured above) and a large terrace overlooking the airfield.

While The Concorde Room is extremely comfortable, the slight complaint I have is that some of the staff seem less than enthusiastic. Securing a table for brunch in the dining room took a lot more effort than it should. Similarly, some of the bar staff didn’t seem particularly keen on pouring drinks, whilst others were doing the work of four people – BA really have to tighten up on consistency. Surely it shouldn’t be too hard to identify a small number of keen staff willing to work in the airline’s flagship facility?

The inconsistency of BA’s staff swung back in our favour as soon as we walked onto the aircraft – the crew were the best of any I’ve come across, on any airline. I’m not sure there is any way in which they could have done more to make sure we enjoyed or flight.

This being a flight to JFK, I was pretty sure that we would be on an aircraft fitted with BA’s new First Class cabin, but it was still a joy to walk onto the aircraft and see the blues and creams of the new product.

The new seats have a lot of space to stow iPads and books within arms reach, as well as BA’s innovative new window treatment which gives each First Class passenger their own pair of windows with and electronic blind. The husband and I settled down into the seclusion of 1A and 1K, while Blondie had asked for the, slightly more spacious, 2A. As soon as we boarded, Champagne was offered then refilled on numerous occasions before take-off, as another crew member took orders for lunch. This flight was only a day or two after BA had started serving Laurent-Perrier Grand Siecle as part of an upgrade to First Class catering and the crew were eager to point this out as an example of ongoing improvement.

Once we were in the air, the table was set and lunch service began with a pre-starter of duck and beetroot salad.

I’d originally fancied a twice-baked cheddar souffle as a starter, but apparently only two were loaded and had been ordered by other passengers before me. The second choice, balik salmon and horseradish salmon with a fennel salad wasn’t amazing, but still pretty impressive by aircraft standards.

Similarly, the main of beef fillet would be nothing to write home about on the ground, but was the first time I’ve eating a steak in the air that hadn’t been cooked until it resembled a hockey puck – it was almost passable as medium-rare.

I’m not really a fan of dessert wines, but the list on this flight included a Canadian Icewine; something that I had vaugue memories of enjoying years ago. When I mentioned this to the steward, he not only brought me a glass, but left the bottle at my seat as “nobody else has asked for it”. Sadly, my memories of Icewine bore little relation to reality – it’s far too sweet for my taste.

The dessert, chocolate and hazelnut slice with salted caramel sauce was the stand-out dish of the meal – absolutely delicious.

Indulging in the cheese board was gluttony, pure and simple, but so worthwhile. Throughout the flight, there is a “Bistro Selection” available, on this occasion sausages and mashed potato or a BLT sandwich. Predictably, after all the food and wine, I had no interest in eating for a while and dosed off during a film. For what it’s worth, the new seat is very comfortable, even without the mattress and duvet which the crew were happy to make up for passengers who had actually planned on sleeping.

I awoke just as the crew were starting their afternoon tea service. The sandwiches weren’t brilliant, but the scones with clotted cream and the miniature cake selection (below) were excellent.

By this time the Champagne was, again, flowing freely and continued to do so right until touchdown: As everything was being prepared for landing I was asked if I’d like a fresh glass, at the time I assumed that the crew were just finishing off a bottle, but they actually opened a fresh one. Amazingly, the glass was topped up again, a matter of minutes before we arrived.

Castello, Windsor

You know that dreadful combination of anger and self-loathing that overwhelms you after you’ve willingly embarked on a course of action which you know is going to end badly? No? Try eating out in Windsor – it’ll soon become familiar.

I’ve said before that Windsor is a culinary wasteland, catering only to coachloads of tourists who’ve been told that British food is bad and so have no expectations of being served anything other than expensive filth. Antony Worral Thompson’s Windsor Grill used to be decent and reliable, but standards there seem to be falling at an alarming rate – each of the last few visits has been more disappointing than the last. Misugo is still good, but is also expensive.

Knowing all of this, any thoughts of heading out for lunch in Windsor should have been quashed as soon as they entered my head, but my resolve had been undermined by a five am start, followed by two hours of rowing, with only a flapjack to eat. So it was that we ventured into the centre of Windsor, already, in early November, beseiged by Christmas shoppers. A circuit of the town revealed people lining up for tables at all of the usual chains – despite the cold, even the outdoor tables at Carluccio’s were all occupied. An enquiry at Zizzi’s revealed we would have to wait at least half an hour before we could even order a pizza, so we continued walking.

Near the entrance to Windsor Castle, the very epicentre of tourist idiocy, there are a couple of cobbled streets lined with independent restaurants. Given that high-season for Christmas shopping coincides with low-season for tourists, there was no wait for any of the options at this end of town.

Essentially, there was a choice of an Italian, a Greek and a “Gurkha Bar”. If memory serves, the Gurkha Bar was a curry house, but the proprietors are clearly hoping to capitalise on the sterling work of Joanna Lumley. Anyway, not being in the mood for Indian food, we were left with a choice of the Italian or the Greek. Although the husband assured me that we’d had a mediocre dinner there once before, I couldn’t recall having eaten at the Italian; as I have vivid memories of a bad meal at the Greek option, the Italian, Castello, seemed like the safest choice.

Of course, this was nonsense. The safest choice, indeed, the only choice, should have been walking to Waitrose and buying food to prepare ourselves at home.

This restaurant is clearly catering only for passing visitors from far away lands and has utterly no interest in securing any sort of repeat business. The food is outrageously bad.

We ordered a starter of calamari to share. This arrived as a single mass of thick, Post Office issue, rubber bands, stuck together with a greasy and crumbling batter, accompanied by tartar sauce.

A pasta from the specials board, tortelloni stuffed with Gorganzola and walnuts, was a disaster. The pasta had been boiled for so long that the tortelloni were falling apart, the stuffing was unpleasant and the whole dish was drowning in a sea of sweet (certainly bottled) tomato sauce; it looked like some mutant form of wonton soup.

Avoid at all costs.

 

The Mount Somerset Hotel

The story of Von Essen hotels is a curious one.  I don't claim to be familiar with the details, but the gist of it seems to be that they emerged from relative obscurity to, seemingly, purchase half of England's country house hotels, before descending in a murky bankruptcy.  A quick search on Google News suggests that company is being broken up, with the hotels being sold to various parties.

Looking for a last-minute weekend away, we ended up staying at Mount Somerset, one of Von Essen's properties, a month or two after the initial bankruptcy.  While the companay was, if memory serves, suggesting that the bankruptcy only affected a holding company for properties and had no bearing on the operation of the hotels, it was clear that expenses, notably staff, had been cut to the bone.

The hotel itself is perfectly charming, with comfortable rooms, plush lounges and pleasant gardens to stroll in.  It is, perhaps, a little closer to the roar of motorway traffic than the pictures would lead you to imagine, but that's hardly a disaster.  Given this solid base, it is to be hoped that new owners can quickly resolve the problems we encountered during our brief stay.

If I was to take a guess, I'd be generous and suggest that all of the hotel's senior staff had been scared off by the bankruptcy.  A more cynical individual might suggest that the more expensive staff had been let go.  Either way, it's clear that the Mount Somerset was being run by a skeleton team of enthusiastic but inexperienced staff, most of whom seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties - young, hard working and cheap.

Securing drinks from the bar was a notable challenge, involving requests made through the receptionist.  An older couple, who claimed to be long-standing regulars, suggested that we order at least two rounds at a time in anticipation of the time it took to mix and gin and tonic.

The food was also a bit of a let-down, again, I'd guess that whoever wrote the menu had left and their replacement was struggling to cope with it.  A tartar of smoked salmon and white crab didn't really taste of anything, while the Dover was massively overcooked - rolled up, it arrived with the texture and shape of a miniature rugby ball.

Brazz, Taunton

This was a surprise.  Looking online for somewhere to grab lunch in Taunton, we came across Brazz, one of the restaurants at The Castle Hotel in Taunton.

First impressions were not fantastic - the hotel seems to be completely hidden from our sat-nav system, so there was a good ten minutes of driving in circles, catching glimpses of the building but unable to access it.  Once parked and inside, expactations sank as we took in the extraordinary decor; Brazz is a proper throwback to the 1980s, complete with chrome and a selection of ceramic oddities hanging on the walls.

Any concerns were quashed as soon as the food started arriving.  A starter of duck parfait with toasted brioche and cumerland sauce was lovely.

As we had a large dinner planned, I orered a child's portion of fish and chips as a main.  The chips were pretty poor, but the fish was fantastic, perfectly cooked in a great, light and crispy, batter.

Adam and Eve Spa, Tokyo

An odd thing seems to happen to European and American visitors to Japan – as soon as their aircraft wheels touch Japanese soil, many of them loose the capacity for rational thought. Inconveniences and delays (and they do happen, regardless of anything you may have heard), which people would rail against as a national disgrace back in London or Paris, go unnoticed while perfectly ordinary experiences are described in terms of slack-jawed wonderment.

I can think of no clearer example of this phenomenon than the Adam and Eve Spa; lauded by guidebooks, patronised by Tyler Brule (yawn), and mentioned in multiple blog posts from excited tourists. As one reviewer claimed it was a perfect antidote for jet-lag, I decided to head over there the last time I arrived in Tokyo.

Being something of a spa fan, it is possible that past expeditions to the Friedrichsbad had set my expectations at unreasonably high level, but I can’t think of any measure by which Adam and Eve isn’t horribly underwhelming.

Tucked down a side road, past the Chinese embassy, Adam and Eve looks rather like a brothel from the outside. Indeed, if a “sauna” looking like this opened in most European neighbourhoods, I suspect there would be much furrowing of brows, pursing of lips then scandalised discussion of “tolerance zones” and the decline of the area’s moral fibre. This impression is only reinforced as you enter, paying a man sitting within a glass cashiers booth and selecting treatments from a list.

After undressing in a cramped changing room, emerging trough a frosted glass door into the spa itself was something of a disappointment. The tiled room is rather dark and very dank. There is a row of plastic stools, each in front of a mirror, a shower and a selection of soaps and razors – everybody washes thoroughly before proceeding, some people also shave. Behind the showers are two pools, one hot, the other cold. There is also a steam room and a blisteringly hot sauna. That’s it. Nothing is particularly comfortable.

After showering then spending some time in the hot water, I pulled on some rather odd disposable cotton pants, before being led into a side room by an old lady in a black bikini for the famed Korean Scrub. Yes, she was thorough, but it was an body scrub; no more and no less than 20 minutes of exfoliation.

I’d bet that you can find far better spa experiences, at similar cost, close to your home, while there are far more interesting things to do with limited time in Tokyo. Ignore the breathless hysteria, and skip Adam and Eve.

Finnair Business Class: London Heathrow to Nagoya via Helsinki, returning from Tokyo

Having, happily, used Finnair's business class service to Asia on multiple occasions over the last few years, this set of flights to and from Japan was a somewhat dispiriting experience. In fact, I've rather fallen out of love with Finnair.

These flights were a let down on three main counts:

• The "enhanced" catering experience
• The new lie-flat seats
• The Air France business class experience.

In the past, Finnair's business class food has been pretty decent; unexciting but generously portioned and not completely annihilated by the onboard cooking process. Earlier in the year, as part of the airline's (generally perplexing) brand refresh, a new menu, apparently more representative of traditional Finnish cuisine, has been adopted.

I'm not sure there are even many Finns who would consider this a wise course of action – the nation is not, traditionally, renowned for it's food. Predictably, Finnish food, as interpreted by airline catering firms, is vile. Mercifully, flights to Japan carry a selection of onigiri rice balls, so complete starvation was avoided.

Most of Finnair's A330s and their oldest A330s have an angled lie-flat business class seat which I've always found spacious and perfectly comfortable. A handful of newer A330s have a fully lie-flat product, but there seems to be no firm plan to retro-fit the new seat across the whole long-haul fleet.

This should be viewed as a blessing.

The new, flat, Finnair seat is the same basic model that Swiss have now standardised on and which I used shortly after it was introduced. Back then, I didn't find the seat particularly comfortable but thought this was because I was in an especially bad seat; the layout means that some are far more private than others.

I was mistaken.

My Finnair flight to Nagoya was operated with the new business class and I was able to reserve one of the choicest seats, 4A, a single with large consoles at either side. After two flights on two airlines, I have to conclude that this style of business class seating is to be avoided. First of all, although the seat is lie flat, with an advertised pitch of sixty inches, it actually feels very claustrophobic. The shell of the seat in front is very close to you and makes it difficult to move freely unless the seat is in the fully upright position; it's not possible to step off of a reclined seat for a mid-movie toilet break.

The seat is also incredibly narrow at both the shoulders and feet. For somebody with broad shoulders and large feet, this renders the seat virtually useless in the flat position. The shoulders are so narrow that I had to lie on my side, but the tunnel which my ankles and feet were supposed to slot into was so tight that they didn't really fit – it almost feels as if you've been tied down (I assume...) and is, frankly, deeply unsettling.

The return journey, from Tokyo, was worse still. Not content with having two business class products within it's small fleet, Finnair have leased two of Air France's most decrepit A340s, with no real effort to refurbish the aircraft, save for seat covers in the house colours. On it's newest aircraft, Air France doesn't offer a business class seat that can be considered remotely competitive; the product on this old bird was positively awful. The seat is angled lie-flat, but has no footrest; something I've never come across before. Any attempt to recline the seat results in a fairly rapid slide towards the floor. The entertainment system is also a throwback to another age.

On the other hand, the food loaded in Tokyo was far more palateable than the Finnish extravaganza served on the outbound journey.

Uncomfortable seat and lacklustre entertainment I could almost accept – all airlines find themselves having to add sub-optimal capacity at some points. What was truly unforgivable about this flight was that the aircraft was filthy – I doubt it's seen a J-Cloth since it left Airbus in Toulouse. Every nook and cranny of the seat housed grime, dirt and the detritus of previous passengers.

It's really not good enough – particularly as Finnair have also lost the price advantage they once offered on routes to Asia. I'll not be travelling anywhere via Helsinki in the foreseeable future.

British Airways Club World: Dallas/Forth Worth to London Heathrow

Another flight on in BA's long-haul business class, this time using a mileage award ticket for fun, rather then travelling for work.

To be honest, this, more than other sectors I've flown in Club World, was something of a mixed bag.  Although, to be fair to BA, this was coming only a week after the inbound flight in Lufthansa First, so I may be carrying expectations set in first class through to a business class flight.

The seat is still, to my mind, the best business class product when it comes to actually sleeping; it's wide at the shoulders and, compared to many other fully flat products, reasonably wide at the feet.  Most importantly, your legs are free to move as your feet aren't entombed in a small pigeon hole.  I also remain convinced that the rear-facing middle pairs are fantastic if you're travelling as couple.

There have been murmerings from various sources that BA were improving the catering in Club World and that did seem to be the case on this flight.  Oh, and apologies (again) for the poor photos, but I refuse to become one of these people whipping out a SLR and a lighting rig in aircraft or restaurants - an iPhone will have to suffice.

There was a mozzarella, couscous and artichoke salad on offer as a starter, but I went with hot smoked salmon with asparagus.  The salmon was, by previous Club World standards, not only decently presented, but generously sized.

Braised beef short rib is a sensible sort of a thing to be serving on an aircraft - it can't be completely ruined by the fierce cooling and re-heating.  The version served on this flight was actually tasty and pretty tender - it seems BA is, after all, putting some more thought into what is served to Club World passengers.  Dessert was a delicious, and huge, slice of chocolate and praline layer cake, but even I consider the photo too hideous for publication.

With the seat still excellent and the food improving, it's slightly dissappointing that small details take the shine off of the overall experience.  Frequent flyer forums are full of people moaning about BA providing a wine list in Club World which bears no resemblance to what's actually loaded onto the aircraft.  Now, this isn't a major issue in the scheme of things and this was the first time I'd come across it, but it does look a little sloppy to suggest that there are eight wines to choose from then actually only offer three or four.

There's also plenty of chatter online about BA crews being generally surly and, perhaps, less enthusiastic than those working for competitors based in Asia or Arabia.  Personally, I've generally had great service from BA crews over the years, at least eighty percent of crews have been excellent.  Sadly, this flight represetned something of a bump in the road.  The crew were friendly enough, but just didn't seem happy to go out of their way at all.

On requesting drinks after the meal, the steward handed over two of everything, which I'm a big fan of, but as he did so quipped "I'm leaving you a supply because we don't do call buttons.". Now, this was delivered in a fairly jocular fashion, but it still leaves a bad impression, particulalry to people who might have been using BA for the first time.  As I fell fast asleep shortly afterwards, there was no cause to test quite how averse he was to the call button.

An hour or so out of Heathrow, I opened a bathrom door and, after seeing the mess some fellow passenger had left, decided to use another one.  The same crew member mentioned above noticed this and had a look inside himself.  I'm the first to say that cleaning toilets is an unpleasant job, but I was under the impression that it was part and parcel of the cabin crew's role, particularly on a long flight - I'd remind you of the ever-sparkling bathrooms Eva Air seem to maintain in business class.  Rather than pull on the rubber gloves and make some attempt to rectify the situation, our friendly steward coughed, closed the door and then slapped an "out of order" sticker across the door.  I should mention that this was a packed flight, so taking a bathrom ut of service only caused long waits for passengers as they we approached Heathrow and everybody started landing.

Reading through this, I do have to admit that the problems are pretty minor, but it is frustrating that BA can be so close to offering an amazing product and then allow sloppiness to take the edge off of the experience.

 

American Airlines First Class: Miami to Dallas/Fort Worth

Another foray into the realm of endless wonder that is air travel within the United States...

This was my first time flying with American for the thick end of twenty years and that was in economy.  Overall, the experience was mixed and, sadly, the overwhelming impression is of a company staffed by people who, for the most part, don't really care about customers.

The first class check-in counter we used at Miami was staffed by two ladies who made it quite clear that the few of us waiting for service were really messing up their day.  During the check-in process, our agent would break of talking with us, mid-sentence, to resume a conversation, in Spanish, with a colleague.  Were they talking about some issue realted to the flight?  Judging by the tone, doubtful.  Were they talking about us? Who knows - either way it's rude.

Unlike US Airways, American Airlines is gracious enough to grant lounge access to passegners carrying a First Class ticket.  Indeed, the receptionist even issued us with two vouchers for alcoholic beverages and a Wi-Fi log-in.  The lounge was reasonably comfortable, although busy.  There were soft drinks and an assortment of bar snacks available for free, as well as hot food for purchase.  We ordered the quesadillas which, fair play to AA, were actually pretty tasty, if not the most wholesome snack.  Obviously, if this were the business class lounge at a key hub for most major European or Asian airlines, all food and drink would be complimentary, but we've all learnt to reduce our expectations on that score when in North America.

My main grip about the lounge is flight information.  There are no announcements, which is fine, but there is also a distinct lack of screens.  The only departure screen I found was near the entrance and, thanks to the layout, completely invisible from any of the seats.  Given the number of weather-related delays that were occuring, the regular jaunt back and forth to check on the latest estimated departure time went some way to burning off the cheesy quesadilla.

Eventually we headed to the gate, only to spend another 45 minutes hanging around as the odd vague announcement was made about thunderstorms in Dallas.

Aboard, the seat is decent, certainly better than intra-European business class, but there's no pre-departure beverage service; one area where Virgin America, who are now making tentative inroads into AA's Texas hub, have them soundly beaten.

There was a drink service after take-off, then a reasonable salad for lunch, but little else in the way of service.  We did secure another round of drinks, but it took something of an effort to grab anyone's attention.

After touchdown I remarked to the other half that there seemed to be a remarkable number of aircraft waiting to take off - more fool me.  At that point, the pilot informed us all that, due to an earlier storm, there were no parking stands free, so we would be waiting on the tarmac for a couple of hours.  Honestly, when I've read US news stories about tarmac delays I assumed they were a myth, now I can see why consumer groups are so exercised about them.  The situation, particularly for those sitting in economy with screaming children, might have been amerliorated to some degree if anybody had bothered to offer a glass of water, but such small considerations are not, it seems, part of American's staff training.

Orwell's, Shiplake

Intrigued by a post from The Henley Traveller, we headed to Orwell's for lunch with Friends last Sunday.

Without exaggeration, it was one of the best meals we've eaten all year.  The food was excellent, the service was great - nobody had a bad word to say about the experience and they charge less than £25 for three courses.

Apologies in advance - even by my low standards, these photos are poor.

The menu offers a selection of fish delivered fresh from Brixham, most of which were sampled by the table during the course of the meal.  I started with the salt and pepper squid with choizo and tomato fondue - I'd have happily eaten a second serving.

While the rest of the table ordered a variety of lobsters and other seafood, I went old-schoold Sunday lunch for the main and took the roast topside of Highland Angus.  The beef was not only cooked to perfection, but served up in ludicrously generous portions.  The accompaniments were also excellent - particualrly the roast potatoes.

Desserts vanished too soon to be caught on camera and while my hot cherry Bakewell was delicious, I can't deny that the other half's coconut creme brule is the thing to order.

Orwell's is, admittedly, a little out of the way for Londonners, but for those if us west of the M25 its great news - fantastic food at a sensible price.

The Viceroy, Miami

I worry that I'm turning into miserable old bastard; the frequency of posts complaining about one thing or another seems to be on the up.  In my defence, most of the grumbling is about service providers failing to deliver on the expectations they set, rather than general whining about not being treated like royalty.

A case in point in the Viceroy Hotel in Miami.

The Viceroy is a nice hotel by any standards, just not as nice as it thinks it is.  Also, before the point is overlooked, the staff we met were all helpful and unfailingly polite.  There are, however, problems that are not acceptable at a hotel in this price range.

The Viceroy's unique selling point is the mid-air pool deck - their efficient PR team had photos of the facility splashed across all of the Sundays when the hotel opened.  Indeed, the pools are pretty much what sold the property to us over other local options.  What isn't made clear is that the pools serve not just hotel guests, but inhabitants of the three towering apartment buildings that surround it. This, in itself, would not be a problem given the space available, but the hotel seem unable to manage the numbers.  Over the two days we stayed there, towels were constantly unavailable and, on one unfortunate occasion, we were handed one that was visibly soiled.

Laundry shouldn't be beyond the skills of a hotel management company.  It's not a problem I've come across, for example, at the largest Las Vegas hotels, where the number of customers being served and demanding towels dwarfs what The Viceroy has to deal with.

Moving on... When travelling and trying to settle down in one hotel after another, none of us wants to be reminded of the people who have slept in the bed before us or used the bathroom earlier. It was, therefore, a little disconcerting to pull on one of the robes hanging in the bathroom to find that a tissue, presumably used by the previous occupant of the room, was scrunched up in the pocket.  To be fair, I can see that the robe looked clean and it's a mistake that housekeeping might easily make when trying to turn around an, otherwise, clean room.

While I'm happy to call the tissue incident an unfortunate oversight that's not representative of normal housekeeping standards at The Viceroy, the issue that upsets me most is a clear management choice.

The Viceroy is at the forefront of the move towards double-dip tipping.  Each food and drink bill uses prominent typefaces and lines to encourage the addition of a tip, which we did, generously, at first.  Irritatingly, closer inspection of the bills showed that the hotel had already added a large service charge (in smaller print) to the total.  If memory serves, 18% was included in the total to which we were adding another 20%.  The use of different font sizes makes me sure that this is a deliberate attempt to fleece customers who are already paying a pretty penny to stay, eat or drink here; few practices anger me more.  Guidebooks warn about double-dipping in certain locations (Bermuda being notorious for it), but this is the first time I recall seeing it in the US.  It's a trend that people need to push back on.

All of these issues were raised in a feedback form which The Viceroy chose to respond to with a dismissive, almost sarcastic, e-mail.

My advice - don't stay here. Don't be sucked in by the hype like I was.  There's a Mandarin Oriental a mile or two from The Viceroy - I wish I'd trusted my better judgement and stayed there.