Topping Rose House

Given that the Hamptons is where New Yorkers spend their weekends, there are few decent hotels here to speak of. It’s all chintzy B&Bs or ritzy house rentals, which is one reason why Topping Rose House stands out. Another is because this restored 19th-century mansion has a rather grand Greek Revival façade. The house, named for its original owner, Abraham Topping Rose (a judge and local dignitary), has been beautifully revamped as the focal point of a 22-room boutique hotel in Bridgehampton, one of America’s most exclusive enclaves.   

We arrived from New York on Friday night, 45 minutes ahead of schedule (unheard of). At check-in, staff kindly offered to bring our dinner reservation forward, so we dumped our bags and headed to the restaurant in the main house. It’s formal – white tablecloths, black Windsor chairs, gallery-white walls groaning with modern art – but it was busy and buzzy. While the 50-seat restaurant has parted company with its founding celebrity chef Tom Colicchio, it maintains its reputation as one of the Hamptons’ better eateries. Much of the produce showcased in the farm-to-table menu is sourced locally, and many of the vegetables come from the hotel’s herb- and root-sown market garden. The food was excellent, if pricey. (Well, this is the Hamptons.) Mrs Smith had a white-asparagus salad, followed by lobster gnocchi, while I plumped for perfectly rendered pork belly, chased with an enormous rib-eye steak. We shared the coconut pavlova for dessert. 

There are just seven rooms in the main house, where modern touches complement original features. We stayed in one of the more contemporary rooms, housed in a stand-alone building. Somehow, the clash of architectural styles doesn’t jar (though some locals may disagree). The new wing has a ‘luxury motel’ feel to it, and our room was emphatically modernist in style, with his-and-hers Hunter wellies, some very posh Master & Dynamic headphones, a WiFi Jambox speaker (I couldn’t get it to work) and a ye olde iPod dock (remember those from Bose?). There was also a gift basket of locally-made cookies, crisps and fruit, and free soft drinks in the minibar. But no kettle, which – for Brits who can’t wake up without a brew – was a shame. Nor was there cable TV, which I hoped would come as standard. The bathroom, with a rain shower and soaking tub, was enormous, if chilly during our spring visit – some underfloor heating would be welcome. We enjoyed the house-made zingy, mint-based shower gel, then realised that neither of us had packed toothpaste. The guy manning front desk immediately brought a whole dental-care kit to our door, remembered our names and generously referenced a weak joke I’d made at check-in. Service with a smile.

We discovered the full delight of our Cottage King Guestroom the following morning when we saw our own private garden – ideal for a pre-breakfast newspaper read, and for our little dog to sniffle about in (small dogs are allowed in cottage rooms for £35 a night). There were sunloungers on our room’s private roof deck, too.

Weekend brunch is relaxed and lavish here, served until 3pm. I was feeling adventurous on the first morning, ordering the Bridgehampton Town Fry – scrambled eggs with deep-fried oysters, bacon and chilli dust. It was memorable, but I preferred the lemon ricotta pancakes I had the following day. Freshly baked biscuits (the US version of a scone), with house-made jams, were melt-in-the-mouth delicious.

In summer you can dine on the garden terrace or wraparound veranda; however, it’s set just back from the main road running through Bridgehampton, so it could be noisy. There’s also an outdoor pool with sunloungers and versatile studio space, which would be great for parties; during our visit yoga classes were held there. It also houses a spa and small, rather airless subterranean gym. Weddings are held in the rather lovely, 19th-century barn next door.

The hotel’s within walking distance of Bridgehampton’s few boutiques and restaurants; it’s well situated for exploring the nearby towns and beaches of the Hamptons. The hotel provides bikes, a beach shuttle and even allows guests to borrow a Lexus during their stay for further exploration – free for four hours, and useful for those arriving by Long Island Rail Road train or Hampton Ambassador (the excellent, luxury bus service from New York, which takes around two hours).   

We had our own wheels and took a 10-minute drive to unspoilt Sagaponack beach, to blow the cobwebs away with a windswept walk. We made a beeline for the nearby Wölffer Estate Winery, arguably Long Island’s finest. Here we enjoyed a light – mainly liquid – lunch, sampling their finest drops, with cheeses and meats, before leaving with a case of their dangerously drinkable Summer In A Bottle Rosé. The winery has an restaurant just up the road in Sag Harbor, where we dined on our second night. On Sunday, we returned to the village to trawl upmarket interiors shops, thrilled that we were beholden to no schedule, before reluctantly hitting the slow road back to Manhattan.