Newcastle needed a suitably luxurious hotel – but I’m not sure this is it

Some hotels are seasonal. Not in the sense that they close for certain months, but that they suit certain times of the year more than others. Turning up at the Dakota hotel on a blisteringly hot day, directly across the River Tyne from the landmark Baltic Flour Mill, felt strange. I got out of my Uber in my shorts, squinted in the sun, then disappeared into the shadows of a building where it perpetually feels like late evening February.

In theory I’m a Dakota fan: when I stayed at their Manchester hotel, way back in 2019, I thought it sleek and chic. A great place for a date, a better place for a debauched (but still luxury) weekend. The Newcastle sibling is cut from the same cloth but feels somehow flat-packed. It opened in March in an unlovely former office building that has been tarted up with on-trend glass partitions, dramatic pools of downlighting, vintage industrial clock motifs and huge jars of fake white flowers.

It looks the part in photos, but sitting in the small cocktail bar made me feel like it had all been generated by AI (the main bar is next to the restaurant). An outdoor terrace has no view of the river and is hemmed in by foliage and heaters clearly geared up for chillier Newcastle weather.

Foliage and heaters obscure the view of the river from the Dakota’s outdoor terrace

But there were things I liked about the hotel’s overall design, most notably the sludge-greige colour scheme that reminded me of Rick Owens’ trademark “Dust”. It is, as they say, a mood. The bedrooms are large, and mine had giant arched windows with Venetian blinds, which my 1980s soul is always cheered by. Bathrooms are stark grey, with tubs and nicely spacious. My 1990s soul connected with the Molton Brown miniatures. The 2020s me was thrilled that signing into all the TV apps in the bedroom was easy. As it should be. Also, the slate area in the desk on which to rest your hair straighteners is a nice touch.

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This is the kind of hotel I’d be delighted to stay in if I was in the city for work for a few days. Staff are beaming and service is great. Judging by all the Prada, tans and teeth that I shared the lift with, the Dakota has become a draw for Millennials for a weekend break or night out. Which means they’re probably eating in the Dakota Bar and Grill, which has the same dark wood and brass rivet New York steakhouse vibe as the Manchester branch. The interior is illuminated by myriad sources, which passes for sophistication. And it just about works. But the menu doesn’t (which it really should because it’s so simple).

The cocktails I had in the bar were excellent; a mezcal negroni and a Dolce and Banana cocktail with that genuinely lovely synthetic banana flavour that reminds you of penny sweets. In theory, dinner was going to be straightforward: steak and chips, with a few other bits and bobs. I went to the giant Hawksmoor in Canary Wharf recently, which reminded me just how good a top-tier chain restaurant can be. The steak couldn’t have been bettered. In Newcastle, the cow shouldn’t have died in the first place.

While the Dakota offered an enjoyable array of drinks, the chicken ravioli was a horror show

Things started as bad as can be. Chicken ravioli with pancetta, parmesan and egg yolk sounded like a must have but was a horror – a rubbery gyoza casing came filled with a set of flavours that felt like they’d just gone through a messy divorce, as well as a hand blender. Bread came, along with an uninvited bowl of marinara sauce and a disc of goats cheese in it. My dining companion had grilled Iberico pork, which he said was flavourful but overcooked in parts.

I ordered the £85 Wagyu fillet from Westholme Australia (there’s also a Wagyu rib eye from Kagoshima for a truly wild £150), asking for it on the cusp of rare and medium rare. It came closer to the fully cooked end of the latter – just a little pink, with none of the softness or marbling I’d expect from good Wagyu. It had also been grilled with herbs rubbed on the skin, which I hate, because I’m a purist when it comes to cow. No sauce, no nothing – just the beef please.

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I did, however, enjoy several glasses of Touriga Nacional from the Fire & Smoke section of the reds and wondered if the restaurant here might be better for the lunchtime Sunday roast than a date-night splurge.

I looked back at my notes on my trip to the Manchester Dakota the next morning while having breakfast and one thing was consistent. The eggs Benedict here is also “gold-standard”. The perfect muffin and poached eggs, salty crisped bacon and an indulgent but not sickly hollandaise. It didn’t repeat on me, as so many Benedicts have done in the past. But there was to be one upset on the way that I hadn’t anticipated.

The River Tyne, along which the Dakota is situated

When I got back to London, I realised I had left my shorts at the hotel, which cost two Wagyu fillets and then some from Mr Porter. A slightly bewildered member of staff took my call and assured me they had been found and that a link to pay for the postage for their return was coming my way. The shorts arrived the next day. When they had come from Mr Porter, they were inside a gift box, wrapped in black tissue. When they turned up from Newcastle, they had been crudely rolled up, and a piece of A4 paper sellotaped around the middle with my name and address scrawled on (the Special Delivery sticker went across the paper and some of the scrunched, fully exposed fabric). I was annoyed, but I laughed out loud. And I was glad the link to pay for the service had never arrived.

Doubles from £125, or £145 including breakfast. There are two fully accessible rooms. Mark C. O’Flaherty travelled as a guest of LNER (lner.co.uk), which runs regular services between London and Newcastle, with a journey time of three hours, from £28 each way.

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Dakota Hotel Newcastle, 112 Quayside, Newcastle upon Tyne NE1 3DX (0191 406 8777; dakotahotels.co.uk).

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