A happy new year in Hamburg

The warm, carved-wood windows of the Vierjarheszeiten Hotel Lobby framed the gray, cold streets. Grandiose paintings encased in intricate, antique dusty gold overlooked the inviting leather armchairs. A beautiful smiling woman with soft, short curls graciously thanked the concierge and turned to her child and husband waiting by the elevator in one elegant, swooping motion. He had on a smart tweed jacket and the little girl a duffel coat. Dressed in an emerald green flared petticoat that was cinched tightly at the waist with ankle-length revealing smart kitten-heeled shiny black shoes, she looked so much like a princess.

I turned to Jonathan, my fiancé, wide-eyed, in my achingly modern jeans and gray sweater, and said exactly that: “She looks like a princess!”

Hamburg is the epitome of Old World chic. The people are well-dressed, well-traveled and well-cultured. They like good food, antiques and yet collect modern art. Where hard work is truly valued, being with family is not an obligation but a pleasure and despite all the richness there is no snobbery. It’s a place where traditions reign without all the stuffiness. Not pretentious, not trying to be anything, it is what it is, as it has been for years and as it probably will be for years to come.

I am a planner. And I must admit, for a truly spontaneous New Year’s escape, it was one the nicest experiences I’ve had. Originally planning to do a fun, party-till-you-drop weekend with friends going to the trendiest bars and hippest restos, staying in a funky design hotel, as fate would have it, things took a 180-degree turn, throwing us a few decades back in time, where everything is executed with pride and care.

So sweet: Juicy scallop on a bed of saffron risotto from the Fischereihafen Restaurant

THE TIME MACHINE

The Vierjarheszeiten Hotel was grand but extremely welcoming. The doorman, sporting a rich red jacket with shiny gold buttons, opened the portal of mirrors and crystal chandeliers that turned the clock backwards. Currently run by the Fairmont, this hotel was purchased by Frederik Haerlin in 1897 and renovated to eventually become the most emblematic establishment of Hamburg.

Overlooking the Alster lake, in the heart of the city, it’s an enclave of the Old World. The cozy Wohnhalle lobby is truly impressive. A large stone fireplace burns gently, deepening the color of the ornate wooden paneling and reflecting prettily the fine silverware and golden samovar. High tea here is a must. The Queen Victoria High Tea comes with a selection of scrumptious scones and tea sandwiches and, of course, a nice little tipple of port or sherry to ease you into the cocktail hour.

Our room was decorated in antique empire furniture and the elevators are these old sliding wooden ones that open to a tiny jewel box of brass, mirrors and crystal offsetting a harlequin floor. A vintage Tiffany chair is graciously placed in the corner for those who may want to rest their feet or packages. The Vierjahreszeiten Grill is a true experience: decorated in its original Art Deco style, with the servers dancing around the room in an efficient ballet. Fresh oysters from the island of Sylt. A silken lobster and cognac bisque. The best darn Wiener schnitzel in town — crisp but not oily, melt-in-your-mouth tender, a bright touch of lemon … a lingering pleasure.

The best part about this place is their bar. A teensy room, all wood and leather and just the finest selection of bottles lit from behind to embellish it. Held together seamlessly by one man, our barman Herr Muller was spectacular to watch. Taking everyone’s orders, concocting real classic cocktails from scratch off the top of his head with ease and elegance. The Vesper martini is one of the cleanest I’ve ever tasted. And the Vieux Carré was perfection. It is the holy grail of cocktails with six different complex spirits like Benedictine, cognac and whiskey. Only the most skilled barmen can aspire to make it taste smooth and not like petrol. His was divine.  It was here where we ended our evenings, indulging in these liquid potions, turning the night more magical with every drop.

Cute trinkets and presents on the table, a perfectly seared foie gras and that succulent lobster claw with truffle remoulade: Dessert came topped with a little good-luck charm!

FISCHEREIHAFEN FUN!

“I hope it’s not too old,” Jonathan tells me doubtfully. “Oh, well. At least I hope the food is good,” I said in return. “If even that’s not good, let’s just get drunk.”

My favorite solution. Our car turned the corner into a dark alley. As we approached the brass staircase leading up to the restaurant, a big smile spread across my face. “I think it is old!” I exclaimed. “Oh, look! The elderly ladies in furry coats! I fit just right in!” I said, laughing and snuggling into mine.

The hostess welcomed us with a warm smile. “Herr Crespi?” she exclaimed, amused by us. All around were the most elegant people I’ve seen: gentlemen in dapper tuxedos, their wives in tow, with their jewels and velvety winter dresses. A more mature crowd composed of what seemed to be regular patrons who have been coming here for years to celebrate. Black, red and gold interiors, felt so regal and yet the gold balloons, glittered party hats, ribbon confetti and silver crackers added a tasteful touch of whimsy. A large glass window showcased the port, dark in the evening with lit-up boats moving back and forth like slow-moving shooting stars against the night sky.

It was no surprise to me that they were a part of the Chaine des Rotisseurs. I couldn’t help feel but a little proud that I was somehow in the same brotherhood. The food was incredible. From start to finish, fresh succulent seafood: scallops so sweet my only regret was there was only one. Cloudlike lobster claws crisply breaded, offset by a creamy black truffle remoulade. Amazing service, hot plates, impeccable timing and an exciting show of shiny cloches, a gorgeous bottle of Riesling — oh, make that two bottles — glasses of Champagne, cheery fireworks, vintage music and a seriously good crowd of people. Happily inebriated full of love, hope and joy. Couples danced. The waiters danced. The barmen danced. We all danced.

THE DAY AFTER

The following day, comfort food was a necessity. We had booked a table at Casse Croute, a small restaurant that we chanced upon while walking. Cozy, relaxed interiors, candlesticks melting languidly onto the worn wooden tables, fine silver cutlery but a no-fuss atmosphere. The cuisine hit the spot: a flavorful consommé of oxtail and crunchy julienned vegetables was the perfect foil to the cold damp weather, a generous mountain of homemade pasta with tender morsels of beef and freshly shaved truffle, a velvety Saint Julien wine. Again the staff was welcoming. Surprise, by the door, again with the Chaine des Rotisseurs! As the Germans would say, it was truly “herzlich,” a word that would most aptly describe our entire weekend. It’s loosely translated as “warm” or “cozy” but its root word is “herz,” which means “heart” — an honest warmth that radiates from the heart. From our waiter at the Vierjahreszeiten Grill, who mischievously poured me more wine even though I obviously had a little too much already, to the kind regulars at the Fischereihafen restaurant who at the end of the night made us feel like regulars, too, to the slightly tipsy old lady who recommended — using drunken, funny gestures — which table we should book at Casse Croute … Hamburg is synonymous with herzlich. And I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my new year than taking a trip into the past with my love.