Hotel Sacher – Torte and Terrific

Since 1876 the Hotel Sacher Wien, located in the very heart of Vienna, [pictured right at night] has been the hôtel de choice (that’s not really a term, I just think it sounds posh) for celebrities, world political leaders, gazillionaires and try-hard parvenus seeking the indulgence of one of Europe’s finest hotels.

The hotel is named after its founder, Eduard Sacher (pron Sarker) who’s father Franz, created the Sacher Torte, and just like the famous dessert which shares its name, is layer upon layer of rich, creamy, finely crafted delight dripping in opulence, oozing in indulgence and leaving the palette wanting more. 

From the street it’s a relatively unimposing, yet stately building (aren’t they all in Vienna?) facing the Opera House and nestling amongst other noted Viennese institutions. She sits proudly with her neighbours the corner of Karntner Straße, the city’s main pedestrian mall, and Philharmonikerstraße. Even the address conjures beauty.

As I walk through the understated porte cochere past the smartly uniformed bellboys, the majesty of the building takes a firm grip on every sense. Moving casually past the smiling concierge with the highly polished crossed keys emblem on his lapel, I journey through the entrance with Café Sacher on my left and the Restaurante Rote Bar on my right.

The Rote Bar, with its ‘must-be-seen-at’ wintergarden is the place for Viennese society to gather before, after, or, if the performance is dull, during the opera. Deep red wallpaper, which, in any other setting would have you phoning the décor police, covers every wall with subtle fleur de lis motifs. Large potted palms, a grand piano, rich upholstery and plush carpets are the canvass for the living painting which is the restaurant. In the corner is an imposing mahogany bar, where exotic cocktails and fine wines are served to privileged diners.

Those on the street can only glimpse through the windows at the fur-clad clientele as they sip martinis and dine on pâté de fois gras. With so much visual activity in the restaurant, all that’s left to the imagination is the history of various discussions that would have spread like fine crumbs over the surface of the heavily starched tablecloths.

Deeper into the hotel, past the glass-ceilinged lobby, The Blaue Bar is as blue as The Rote Bar is red. Royal blue wall coverings and deeply upholstered chairs create a heady atmosphere conducive to important and world-changing conversations. If, as we tend to think, one could solve the problems of the world over a few drinks, this is the place to do it and I’m sure the walls of this magnificent bar have eaves-dropped on plans and schemes to divide, conquer and put it all back together again in various languages.

Back through the lobby, the gallery which once housed the personal office of Anna Sacher, who ran the hotel for forty years until the 1930’s after the death of her husband Eduard, is now a photographic gallery of world dignitaries and constellations of stars – all one-time residents or guests of the hotel.

I stand staring at the photos which surround me and feel the violet eyes of Elizabeth Taylor pierce my back (even though her signed photo is black and white).

There are too many photos to study and too much hotel to further explore but the presence of so many world leaders and prominent identities on the walls permeates the various salons and rooms of the building. I allow them to guide me through. After all, the hotel is so rich in the personal history of its former guests, who better than them to conduct my tour.

They lead me through the lobby again and past a pair of life-sized marble statues in female form, standing sentry in the hallway to the Marble Hall. Primarily a breakfast room, the Marble Hall is a typical example of delicate, if not unashamedly ostentatious European architecture and décor that is shared with so many palaces and official buildings here.

Festooned in crystal chandeliers and lined in a mountain’s worth of cream marble, the hall is grand to say the least. I’m sure bacon and eggs would taste better here than anywhere else.

From the Marble Hall a labyrinth of corridors and salons circuitously leads to the famous Café Sacher at the front of the hotel facing Philharmoniker Straße. Divided into two – half for smokers, the other half reserved for partons who prefer their torte “sans tabac”, the two salons of Café Sacher bear the name of Kaiser Franz Josef and Kaiserin Elisabeth. Together, they form arguably, Austria’s most famous coffee house.

Of course, coffee ,Viennese and other, is served with the specialty of the house – the Sacher Torte: a rich slice of chocolate gateau, lined with apricot jam and sealed in a comforting blanket of the world’s finest chocolate.

So coveted is the taste and texture of the torte, it’s secret recipe has been held within the walls of the hotel since it was first created in 1832 when Franz was just a mere apprentice at the court of Prince Metternich. Apparently, Franz had to stand in for his master to create a special dessert for an important visiting dignitary and came up with the delectable muddy torte. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was unceremoniously sacked for showing up his absent boss, but like good artists who suffer in life for their art Sacher’s legacy outlives him.

The Café Sacher is a less formal but no less significant element of the hotel’s composition providing another dimension to the total experience. Marble floors and deeply patinated timber furniture set the scene for a true “let’s do coffee” morning.

Compact but not crowded, the hotel seems to have more F&B outlets than Melbourne’s Crown casino, all with a very different focus and style of service I hasten to add. Charming nooks and snugs, salons and grand rooms fill the ground and first floor like a neatly packaged box of chocolates.

But it’s the lobby that captivates and leaves little to the imagination. Located in the centre of the building the lobby is more a vestibule than foyer. Hotel reception is neatly tucked away to the left and the absence of luggage carts leaves the room as a place to sit, take coffee or just linger in the most private of public spaces. It is undeniably the hotel’s premier salon in the fine European tradition.

Chic guests, impeccably dressed and quietly spoken, exchange conversation over coffee under the muted light provided by the stained glass ceiling. Massive portrait artworks hang on the high walls casting glances to each other over the heads of guests, further populating the room and participating in the discussions. The oversized furniture is soft, large and comfortable. Lounges, armchairs, banquettes and ottomans, generously dressed in co-ordinated upholstery fill the parquetry floor space. To one end a large open fire hides behind a Biedermeier coffee table where two beautifully dressed women discuss business. In the centre of the room, slightly screened by a genuflecting parlour fern, two suave men do the same in another language.

The air has a slight scent of tobacco, but not the offensive type we associate with a dingy pub. Ancient blended aromas of sweet pipe and cigar smoke have taken residence in the hotel lobby and gently linger as a soft hint in the rooms and salons. Their presence is an integral component of the hotel’s composition – a sensory signature that is counter balanced with the scent of fresh roses. Remove the loitering hint of Churchill, the Kaiser, King George or German invaders and the total fabric of the hotel would fracture.

Above the corridors and salons of the ground floor are six layers of fine accommodation – a private and privileged world of residential luxury. But the common areas (if I dare to use the word) can and should be enjoyed by all.

But a word of caution! Care should be taken when walking through the corridors not to trip on the trail of fallen superlatives dropped by previous visitors.

An on location report from Austria and Central Europe for TravelMole by international travel writer Kevin Moloney