Ballyfin Demesne

From the Hideaway Report

July 2012 Hideaway Report

Arriving in Dublin, we picked up our car and set out along a major highway much like those at home. But before long, it took us to less harried byways and peaceful scenery. We headed into the country’s Midlands region, a place of neat towns and rolling fields filled with grazing sheep and horses. In the town of Mountrath, County Laois, 60 miles southwest of the capital, we found ourselves tracing a stone wall that marked the perimeter of a great estate. Having announced ourselves at imposing iron gates via an intercom, we followed a meandering road through fields and past a time-honored church to the front of Ballyfin, perhaps the finest Regency house in all of Ireland. There, awaiting us, was a row of five members of the staff, providing a scene to stir the souls of Downton devotees.

In the front hall, we found an antique mosaic brought from Italy during the house’s construction in 1822. This served as prelude to the magnificent public rooms, each with its own startling architectural riches. Time and again, we found ourselves gazing at the incredibly detailed plasterwork, attempting to trace its intricate motifs highlighted with hand-applied gilt. Throughout the mansion, the columns are embellished with scagliola, a trompe l’oeil art that requires a mix of plaster and various dyes, which is then painted and polished, a process far more costly than actual marble. The parquet floors are among the finest we have ever seen, while sumptuous fabrics and rugs are complemented by fine mahogany furniture, French chandeliers, mirrors by Thomas Chippendale and a collection of Irish art from the 18th century to the present.

This grandeur exists today thanks to the unstinting dedication of American businessman Fred Krehbiel and his Irish wife, Kay. The couple had long been in search of a fading country house to restore as a top-flight hotel and chanced upon Ballyfin in 2002. Originally built by the Coote family and designed by the celebrated architects Sir Richard and William Morrison, the house was sold to the Patrician Brothers in the 1920s, when the emerging movement for Irish independence made it prudent for large Protestant landowners to leave. The Brothers, a teaching order, turned the home into a school, helping to keep its rooms in relatively good repair. But eventually, the school declined and the deterioration accelerated in the early 21st century.

Sparing no expense, the Krehbiels completely restored the house, a Herculean effort that took almost nine years. Today, the 15 guest rooms reflect their passion for detail. The walls of our bedroom were hung with 17th-century Flemish tapestries, yet despite the grandeur, we felt cloistered in a cozy private world.

We soon fell into the seductive rhythm of country house life: large breakfasts over which we lingered with The Irish Times, followed by walks on the 614-acre property— especially around the lake to the walled garden where much of the produce for the kitchen is grown, and a hike up to an old tower from which seven counties are visible on a clear day. Otherwise, we swam in the pretty indoor pool or sat reading in leisurely anticipation of afternoon tea.

Under the direction of Fred Cordonnier, who has worked in Michelin-starred restaurants throughout Europe, including Patrick Guilbaud in Dublin, Ballyfin’s kitchen turns out reliably exceptional cuisine. Although everything that we tried was excellent, I would particularly cite the West Cork diver scallops with eel, peas and wild garlic; and the beef filet accompanied by oxtail, morels and veal sweetbreads. With a view of an illuminated cascade, the constant attentions of the aptly named food and beverage director Frederic Poivre, and a delightful wine list –which begins with a selection from Bordeaux châteaux founded by the so-called “Wild Geese,” Irishmen who fled to France in the 17th century — Ballyfin provides a dining experience that few hotels can match.

The staff’s effusive greeting at the beginning of our stay served as a foretaste of the friendly and attentive service to come. I particularly recall a whispered inquiry as to whether I would care for tea while reading in the 5,000-volume library; the encyclopedic knowledge of the house and its holdings displayed by the ever-present butler, Declan; and an errant button on my jacket being reattached in little more than five minutes before dinner.

One evening over drinks, a gentleman from Dublin marveled at the resurrection of Ballyfin: “It is truly a great gift to the nation that the Krehbiels have given us.” And a considerable gift to American travelers, as well.

Illustration © Melissa Colson

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