The Viceroy is one of those ultra, ultra modern hotels where you often find yourself saying things like 'Ooh, now is that a designer table or a bed?'. Thankfully the maid arrived shortly afterwards to turn down the table, and I realised it was indeed intended for us to sleep on. After that things seemed a lot easier.
As we were on reviewing duty, Mr Smith pointed out that it was only right that we check out the bar and all its accoutrement. (One feels less of a lush calling it accoutrement.) The Key Lime Martini with the Graham Cracker crust on the rim of the glass was the most wonderful drink I’ve ever tasted. I wish I could have told you what the other cocktails were like, but I clung to this same drink, terrified that I would never experience this heavenly tipple again, outside of the Viceroy. Mr Smith didn’t let the side down however and stoically made his way through the wine list. He loved the Pinot Noir. Whatever. ‘Four more keysh limesh martinish mr barman, pleash’, who was getting more handsome by the glass.
After such an enthusiastic attempt at converting cocktail-sampling into an Olympic sport, a shower was needed before dinner. I entered our designer bathroom, which was huge with nothing in it. At first glance, the shower looks very inviting – vast with a big bench at the end of it. Strangely, the water itself was also on the minimalist side, and two or three fully clothed people could happily stand in there having a chat and not get in the least bit wet. Eco- and party-friendly at least.
The Viceroy has aimed high when it comes to style – and they’ve certainly achieved it. When it comes to old-fashioned comfort, we found the emphasis to be more on its modern appearance. While the look isn’t conducive to an atmosphere that is homely, every single person we encountered could not have been more friendly and helpful. The warmth definitely comes from the staff.
Our supper was served in a pretty, tranquil area of the hotel grounds next to the poolside cabanas, sat in armchairs that teetered on being larger than our table/bed. Knowing we needed to sample a wide variety of the menu in the name of duty we both ordered... burgers. Which verged on being larger than the armchairs. The rest of the menu offers samples from the chef’s worldwide culinary adventures from pan-Asian to all-American. These two Smiths are not the most adventurous eaters, but in our defense, we did order the parmesan fries.
Our waiter was truly lovely; he made it his night’s mission to solve an argument that arose over dinnertime conversation about who played the Elephant Man: John Hurt or John Gielgud. It would be unfair on Mr Smith to tell you who he put his money on. I’ll just tell you that when our waiter went to the trouble of seeking us out at brunch the next morning to inform us that it was indeed John Hurt, you can imagine how delighted I was that I was right.
A huge brunch is laid on at the Viceroy on Sunday mornings, which we must warn you: renders you immobile for the rest of the day. But it’s worth a visit just to see the chef create the banana and honey crepes – among many other desserts – before your very eyes, in the centre of the restaurant.
Mr Smith vetoed my excellent plan of having a lie down and dragged me off to explore Santa Monica. I grizzled at first, but was too full of pancake to argue, so off we set to Third Street Promenade. There are some fantastic shops there such as Fred Segal’s fashion and beauty emporia, as well as street entertainment with a Cali spin – clowns, musicians, dancers, political activists – and so you can amble there and back from the Viceroy, as well as have a stroll to the ocean. Santa Monica Pier is a fun walk through craft stores, fish restaurants and pubs with a couple of ‘roller coasters’ (think Barry Island Pleasure Park rather than Alton Towers) culminating in a glorious view of the beautiful Californian sun glistening on the water at the pier’s end.
That evening, we’d earmarked a fantastic restaurant called Geoffrey’s – 20 minutes north up the Pacific Coast Highway, in Malibu. It ain’t a cheap eat, but gosh it’s worth it. If you can swing a table outside, it really is breathtaking: high on a Pacific clifftop you dine right on the ocean. Acclaimed for their Asian-tinged seafood and classy take on Californian classics, it has swiftly become the favourite restaurant of these recent residents of LA. Breaking from his burger tradition, Mr Smith heartily recommends the hangar steak, which is something of a local legend.
We checked out of the Viceroy the next morning delighted to have had the opportunity get away for the weekend; being able to escape from the mundane weekly grind. It certainly cleared the old head. That evening we rented a film – The Elephant Man. Who should be in it? John Gielgud. How annoying. Still, Mr Smith reckons if I treat us both to a round of those parmesan fries sometime – now we are adventurous eaters – he’ll call it quits on the bet.
