The Seaside Boarding House review: The cosy gourmet getaway on Dorset’s Jurassic Coast with a proper sense of place

In an influential 2016 essay entitled Welcome to AirSpace, the American cultural critic Kyle Chayka defined a look which has become so prolific in hospitality that it’s led to a global march of coffee shops, co-working spaces and restaurants ‘that share the same hallmarks everywhere you go’. When it comes to hotels I’m sure you can picture the sort I mean: reclaimed industrial spaces with poured concrete floors or parquet, lots of plants, terrazzo bathrooms, Eames-adjacent chairs and a smattering of jewel-toned crushed velvet. Oh, and super-fast WiFi, the better to document your stay on social media.

There’s nothing wrong with any of this — it’s a package I’ve sought out in various cities over the years when travelling for work, precisely because you know what you’re getting. But it keeps you in a bubble: however many miles you are from home it can feel as though you haven’t really gone anywhere at all. As Kyle puts it, ‘as the geography of AirSpace spreads, so does a certain sameness’ — for all its comfort and convenience, this algorithmically codified aesthetic is making getaways (whisper it) a bit boring. Basic, even.

Thank goodness, then, for the Seaside Boarding House, a converted Edwardian villa overlooking Chesil Beach that’s a real breath of fresh (sea) air. Certainly it’s stylish, with its reclaimed wooden floors, crisp organic bedding and walls painted in seafoam shades. The bar will do you a textbook flat white, and your negroni will come with a modish bowl of Perello olives. But said cocktail is brought to you in a proper drawing room, with a crackling fire surrounded by shelves stocked with the likes of Anthony Powell and local boy Thomas Hardy. The ceiling lights are brass pre-war originals, the bannisters came from a ship. This is the sort of place where you can expect to see a toast rack (complimentary).

Even if the Seaside Boarding House had gone a bit heavier on the succulents and rose gold, its setting would make it impossible to mistake for anywhere else in the world. The building, originally one of a pair of houses owned by members of the Pitt-Rivers family, commands a remarkable position above the sand, offering views from Portland Bill all the way over to Star Point. In the summer it’s packed, the terrace doing a roaring trade in rosé, but on a winter weekend it’s a glorious place to hunker down and admire the ever-changing waves. If you’re lucky you might spot a dolphin.

The hotel is the brainchild of Mary-Lou Sturridge, former managing director of the Groucho Club, which led one reviewer to ever so slightly sniffily dub it ‘Groucho-on-Sea’. We see no evidence of this: along with half a dozen weekending couples from around the country there’s a steady stream of locals and their dogs stopping off for coffee on the way home from a tramp along the South West Coast Path, which runs right past the hotel. Some return, sans sandy boots, for dinner in the lovely, Michelin-recommended dining room, whose tables are set with antique crockery and silverware and fresh flowers.

Seafood, unsurprisingly, is the kitchen’s focus, and the hand-picked crab, carrot and Melba toast is an easy yes, although we give very serious consideration to a twice-baked cheese souffle which our server confides they ‘can never take off the menu’. Wild sea bass with red cabbage and peppercorn sauce is superb, elegant without being fussy and accompanied by a moreish mountain of new potatoes tumbled in seaweed butter. For pudding we share a malt creme brulee and a chocolate mousse which is easily the best either of us has ever tried, beating even the legendary one from Chapon’s mousse au chocolat bar in Paris.

The next morning we wake to the sound of the waves and acres of blue filling the bay window. A quick call to the front desk and two coffees materialise discreetly on a silver tray outside our door (the team here are fantastic, friendly and consummately helpful). There are no televisions in the rooms, which I love, although you can switch on your Roberts Radio if you really can’t do without the news. I opt to ease into the day by lying in the claw-footed bath looking out at the sea. Downstairs, breakfast feels like the best sort of country-house hospitality, with a buffet table laden with freshly baked scones, banana bread, yoghurts, poached fruits and homemade granola. The hot options are pleasingly retro: think boiled eggs with anchovy-toast soldiers, and excellent kippers.

If you’ve brought a car, Bridport, with its antiquing opportunities, is just 10 minutes away. We came by rail and South West Trains regrettably abbreviated our visit, but if we’d had more time we’d have been setting out for a long, blustery walk on the beach, perhaps stopping off at lunchtime at the nearby Hive Beach Cafe for the catch of the day. We happily holed up in front of the fire instead, the team practically having to prise us out of the armchairs when it was time to leave. The Seaside Boarding House is something so many ‘AirSpace’ hotels claim to be, but are emphatically not: a home from home.

Rooms from £265 a night on a bed-and-breakfast basis. Visit The Seaside Boarding House’s website for more information and to book.