Nick Barclay's Grand Hotel

D Magazine, Jun 01, 2002 by Nichols, Nancy

"YOU SURE DO SEE A LOT MORE going on around this place than you do in a restaurant," groans Nick Barclay as he trudges up the stairwell, toting all three of my suitcases. On the second floor, he flashes me a devilish grin. "In fact, sometimes it's really a bit like Fawlty Towers here."

"Here" is The Barclay House, a small hotel carved into the English hillside overlooking the river valley of Looe, a historic Cornish fishing village that dates back to the 12th century. From my cozy, bright-blue room with a big bay window, the refined surroundings appear to be anything but an inn run by insanity.

Barclay charmed Dallas for 18 years with his brilliant cuisine. He broke plenty of Dallas hearts and palates two years ago when he closed his popular modern Euro-British restaurant, Barclays, at the pinnacle of its success to move back to the southwestern tip of England (where the cuisine could use a little modernizing) with his wife Kelli and their three children, Hannah, Nick, and Lucy. "Not only did I want to be close to my mum," says Barclay in his chirpy British accent, "but I've always dreamt of owning a place like this. We wanted to raise our kids in the country, as far away from the Golden Arches as we could get."

They purchased a 12-bedroom Victorian hotel originally built in 1890 - relatively new by Cornish standards - about 45 minutes from the closest Big Mac. Barclay also acquired eight luxury cottages, built of Cornish stone, as well as three wooded acres that surround the property. Together the Barclays rolled up their sleeves and started renovating.

The result is a warm, friendly place that is as elegant as it is casual. There are two parlors: one beckons you to sit in front of the fireplace with a cuppa tea and have a good "chinwag" with fellow travelers; the other invites you to relax with an after-dinner brandy. Between the two parlors, a hand-carved staircase winds up three floors of guest rooms, each with all of the comforts of home, including satellite TV, coffee and tea service, and a deep soaking tub.

We should all have a home so grand. From the front rooms, the view is breathtaking. The Looe River runs just beneath the hotel, and with each tide comes a new spectacle. During high tide, the emerald green waters provide a highway for sailboats. After the waters recede to the sea, the muddy bottom is a bird's (and birder's) paradise - thousands of curlews, dunlins, and grey plovers gather swiftly, stabbing at the buffet of crabs and mussels half-buried in the soft mud.

Not to be outdone by his feathered friends, Barclay has a "personal fisherman" who calls the kitchen from his cell phone so the chef can ready the ingredient, for the catch of the day. The local waters are full of sea bass, sole, brill, turbot, and John Dory. The menu - priced by the course and changed daily - is familiar to Barclay loyalists. But the tables have turned on the chef - now the man who taught Dallas about "bubble and squeak" finds himself educating the Brits on the finer points of pico de gallo.

Besides his valet from the sea, Barclay has a regular stream of local purveyors who bring him produce, meats, cheeses, and herbs. The fresh flavors of Watercress, real English peas, and just-picked berries dance in your mouth. Paired with a bottle of Cornish wine, a meal at Barclay's Restaurant is Cornwall on a plate.

From the hotel's positioning in Looe, it's easy to explore the far comers of this country, which is rich in the heritage of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable, the Hound of the Baskervilles, and the Pirates of Penzance. Five thousand years of history hit you at every turn.

On a rare day off, Barclay and I met under the Texas flag in front of his house and set out in the green Ford Explorer that he brought with him from Dallas. (It's easy to see why the locals fondly refer to him as "Texas Ted" - he's the only driver in Looe with a left-hand drive and Texas plates.) We trundled across the countryside - a picturesque patchwork of velvety green pastures divided by miles of ancient hedgerows - to Padstow, a fishing port on the Atlantic coast. We tried to lunch at one of Britain's top dining spots, The Seafood Restaurant, owned by Rick Stein (yes, the one with the famous TV show), but we missed the 2:30 pm closing time. Instead, we meandered through stone cottages built in the Middle Ages and opted for traditional fare at a local pub.

From Padstow, we headed north along a beautiful stretch of classic Cornish fishing villages and rugged coastline to Boscastle, then on to visit the preserved remains of Tintagel Castle, the legendary birthplace of King Arthur. After Texas Ted parked the Explorer, we set out for a nice walk across the heather- and gorse-clad cliffs.

I devoted the next day to discovering Looe. From Barclay House it's just a fiveminute walk along cobblestone streets to the center of this tiny village. I wandered the curvy alleyways, discovering The Old Hall, a fabulous bookstore with a large collection from Cornwall's most famous author, Daphne du Mauriers; several surprisingly good local art galleries; and many small antique shops filled with remarkable buys.