A spectacular place — the kind where the view alone almost justifies the trip. The room was genuinely next level, and you could tell someone, somewhere, cared deeply about the details.
And yet… it felt like it had been designed by two entirely different people who never met.
On one hand: beauty, intention, craftsmanship.
On the other: decisions so baffling they almost felt experimental.
Take the menu. 129 items. Which is usually less a menu and more a warning sign. As expected, none of it was good — in fact, it bordered on performance art in how consistently disappointing it was. A masterclass in how variety and quality are often mortal enemies.
Lunch? Not served. Instead, you’re chauffeured elsewhere like a confused extra in a reality show, only to text your way back. Charming in theory, slightly absurd in practice.
Then there’s the TV in the restaurant — inexplicably on, showing something entirely unrelated — like someone accidentally brought a living room into a fine dining setup. And the blue pillows… small detail, but completely off-key, like trainers with a tuxedo.
Service had the numbers but not the rhythm. Plenty of staff, yet somehow too many mistakes — and the need to pre-order dinner hours in advance removes any sense of spontaneity.
All of which is a shame, because this place is so close to being exceptional. Fewer choices, more care, and a bit of editorial discipline — and it could be incredible.
