Chrissy Iley returns to a schooldays haunt to see how chef Terry Laybourne and interior designer Jill Holst have transformed Jesmond Dene House into a 'casual-luxe' hotel.
There's something very spooky about a place of great elegance, calm and quiet luxury that nestles right next to the gothic horror of a convent school that I grew up in. Certainly that was the initial thing that startled me about the Jesmond Dene House Hotel.
I used to run away from school and play with the police horses that used to be in the stables adjacent. The house then was run down and more than somewhat crumbling.
I was intrigued because any stay there would be an assault on the senses. As soon as I arrived I found it caring, attentive, fresh. As soon as I realised that the chef Terry Laybourne had taken it over as his first hotel venture I realised the experience would be all the more thrilling.
Terry Laybourne is also a figure of my youth. He brought fine dining to Newcastle. Before he opened 21 Queen Street in 1988, a mushroom had seemed an exotic vegetable in Newcastle. It was a different Newcastle then though.
The Jesmond Dene Hotel nestles just outside the city centre in what now appears rather romantic woodland so this in itself is interesting because it manages to be a kind of country house hotel and also a city one.
Laybourne was not one to be predictable and make the hotel all about the food. With three restaurants already he knows how to do that. It wouldn't have been exciting for him.
Working closely with long-term associate Jill Holst of interior designers Ward Robinson, he has delivered tasteful and thoughtful creature comforts and managed to create an atmosphere that is both intimate and at the same time gives you plenty of your own space.
He has worked with the existing, rather robust oak and somehow made everything lighter and airier by mixing modern clean lines with the existing romanticism. Bedrooms sport beautiful, white, crisp linen; smooth, dark wood cabinets and rose print carpets. Silver 1960s puffball inspired wallpaper, a goldfish bowl with an ostrich feather curled in it adds a touch of Biba.
The bedhead is black suede. There are odd touches of red velvet. The bathroom floor is heated. The shower is a walk-in and the bath is oval and deep. The television is slim screen. The bath products made from local ingredients seem edible. Grapefruit and ginger shea butter soap nestles with rosemary sage bath soak. A fern logo skips about making everything look blessed. The staff are consistent with their attentiveness - never overbearing.
The restaurant is of course a delight. Comfortable cane swivel chairs and a lovely conservatory, romantic in the evening, fresh in the day. It manages to be both business, friendly and family friendly. Menus specialise in finely sourced local ingredients.
The house was first designed by John Dobson, responsible for many of Newcastle's most handsome streets. Over the years it has been the home of a shipping magnate, Captain Andrew Noble who entertained the high society of Rudyard Kipling and Lord Baden Powell.
Later the house was used as a residential school. It too had a touch of the gothic in its large oak rooms which have now been transformed to retain their original fixtures. It's a curious alchemy how well the old blends with the new and makes everything feel fresh but at the same time inviting and warm. Cared for more than lived in.
The Great Hall with its little staircase and balcony overlooking possibly great events is also quirky. So far it has been reserved for corporate events "because that's the kind of clients I know most about," says Terry. Eventually though it could hold all kinds of romantic functions.
It was a surprise to Laybourne that Valentines week was packed out. There are 40 rooms, some of which are in the modern annexe. Those ones have more glass, more space and are the suites. It must have been a vast undertaking. It took two and a half years from design to completion. One senses a lot of sweat, possibly blood, although Laybourne is not a man for tears. Or flattery. When I tell him how much he was solely responsible for shifting cuisine in Newcastle he says, "That wasn't down to me. It was a whole seismic shift. It would have happened with or without me."
Laybourne looks relaxed but reserved. He takes off his Prada winter sports jacket and nestles into the velvet of his own comfortable armchair in the bar with a glass of Sancerre. He's not the obvious lord of the manor so what made him feel now was the time for a hotel?
"Logical I suppose. I have a little bit of ambition and a need always to be challenged. Also commercial sense. The restaurants that I do are in leasehold properties, depreciating assets. Once you take the chef out of that equation they're diminishing assets and this is a serious project."
Smooth and sleek oak surfaces that contrast with knobbly bits of original fixtures was obviously a design imperative. "What I didn't want was a stuffy, country house hotel. On the other hand I didn't want anything stark and unwelcoming, the kind you find in trendy hotels. Great to look at - lousy to be in."
"I did some numbers on the back of a fag packet and I thought I could make it add up. I made some phone calls to prospective customers and it seemed to make sense."
He seems to underplay the huge risk and is self effacing about his own talent as being the reason that people would want to go there. "It's been an absolute rollercoaster," he says and you feel his stomach lurch. His networking consisted of mainly people who came from his restaurants and this has been another great coup. According to hotel guest history, after the south east and Glasgow, the third biggest group of people staying there since it opened in September 2005 have come from within a 30 mile radius.
He has once again created a new concept in the North East. You have dinner at a hotel and you go to bed for a beautiful white linen sleep. There are options for more rooms, a gym or a spa.
What hotels have inspired him? What does he require in a hotel? "I require different things in a bedroom depending on how long you have to stay in it. If it's overnight and on your own a comfortable bed and telly. I had a horrendous experience in New York. Two of us in a shoebox (it was the Paramount). Great public areas, bustling and spacious. Then I realised - that was the idea. Keep people there where they're spending money. It wasn't comfortable but I take my hat off to it."
Not something he took on here. The bedrooms are lovely. "I stayed in Claridges once. Couldn't get my head round this business of ringing somebody up every time you wanted a glass of water. Not me. I very much like the Firmdale group. Their hotels are comfortable and stylish without being stuffy. That idea inspired me."
He denies the kitchen is the destination for any hotel. I point out that people go to Gidleigh Park for Michael Caines Michelin-starred food. He says, "Well there was no other reason to go. I wanted to make something better than that and we've got a fairly high diner/sleeper, sleeper/diner ratio."
The comfort inspired design comes from Jill Holst. She was a fashion designer who helped with some colours at 21 Queen Street and changed direction after the successful results.
Jill has used a modern palette of neutrals and added flashes of strong colour, hot pink, aubergine and turquoise, in bold wallpapers and rich fabrics and coverings in silk, velvet and suede. The carpets and the bedroom furniture and fittings have been designed by Jill and produced to specification, the furniture and fittings are sleek and understated. In the generous bathrooms there's a suggestion of 1930s New York. They are clean and functional, and yet peaceful creams and taupes and natural elements like granite and stone create sensual spaces. Before Queen Street, Laybourne worked on the other side of the Dene. Head cook at Fishermans Lodge. He started there by accident on a six week break from his job at a 220 roomed five star hotel in Switzerland. The posh European hotel is a renowned route for chefs. "I was looking more for knowledge than a reference. I was intending to go straight back there but it never happened. I kept postponing it."
For a few years he regretted not going back. Then one day had a realisation he was only going there to bring the knowledge back home and what was depressing him was he hadn't started his own thing. That frustration was the impetus for 21 Queen Street.
He wasn't one of these chefs that mixed pastry at his mothers knee.
That was never his inspiration. "I'm a crafts person. Cooking started by default. My old man was an engineer and that's what I was going to be. To set the tone my O levels were in things like woodwork, technical drawing and English Language. All craft related. (he never read Pride and Prejudice) It was 1970. It was the recession. My father said, 'I don't think it's a good idea for you to be involved in heavy engineering. I don't think there's much future in the industry here,' and that was an intelligent call. I had to think of something else."
He ran into a friend who was at catering college, and thought he might give it a try. So he bought some cookery books and treated making the dishes as if it was an engineering project. A food engineer. "I took a draughtsman's approach to it, how to build it and present it. Only later when I was mature enough to think about food did I get involved in the rest of it."
It's almost as if his engineering base has come full circle.
The hotel is very much designed, drafted, created from that place in his mind which he must have been itching to exercise all these years. His vision has come at the right time. Once again the shift in what Newcastle is as a city demands this kind of chic in a restaurant/hotel.
