Immerse yourself in the style and grandeur of a bygone age at this art deco gem on a tidal island

'James Bond has arrived,’ says the waiter, beaming at my husband, Pete. I know this will make his night, and our worries about feeling overdressed melt away as we’re shown to a table in the decadent Palm Court Lounge. We’d both fretted about the compulsory black tie and evening dress – Pete attempting to revive his crumpled suit at the back of the wardrobe, while I descended into a must-find-the-perfect- dressy-dress spiral. But I’m glad that we’ve dusted off our finery. Dinner at Burgh Island Hotel is an event, just as it would have been back in this establishment’s heyday. Since the hotel first flung open its doors in 1929, everyone from Noël Coward to The Beatles has partied the night away here. Agatha Christie even holed up in the hotel’s Beach House to write a couple of her detective novels. 

‘James Bond’ and I start with drinks and canapés. Nestled on plush cocktail chairs among the potted palms, we soak up the sounds of couples and families toasting anniversaries and birthdays. My cocktail is an Aviator Martini, a tribute to my namesake, Amy Johnson: the first woman to fly solo from England to Australia, and a former guest at the hotel. With Maraschino, lemon syrup and lavender bitters, it’s a sweet sip that complements our tangy cheddar choux puffs and moreish salt-cod croquettes. But the best is yet to come. We’re guided to the Grand Ballroom, where the tables are arranged around a vast, gleaming dance floor and a jazz pianist tinkles away on a grand piano.

The room is a faultless homage to 1930s grandeur, with crystal chandeliers and original art deco murals depicting a flurry of elegant socialites. On certain days, the hotel’s live jazz band might tempt you to show off your own moves, with the double doors opening onto a starlit outdoor dance floor throughout the summer. The menu is as impressive as the setting, featuring elevated classics, from foie gras terrine to freshly caught hake. To start, I have the seaside-inspired lobster, which is light and fresh, layered with soft Brixham crab and drizzled with a pop of passion fruit and lemongrass oil.

The Creedy Carver duck, farmed just an hour or so away, is a sight to behold – blushing and dotted with a side of tender baby beetroot and orange suzette sauce. I wince a little at the sight of the ‘deconstructed’ cheesecake, but I can never resist anything with blood orange. And it’s a creamy globe of orangey heaven, spiked with Grand Marnier, sitting atop a white-chocolate digestive crumb. I have zero regrets. Especially as Pete tucks into a gorgeous selection of local cheese, and offers me a forkful of creamy Devon blue with fig chutney. Back in our room after dinner, we open our windows and listen to the sounds of the sea.

Burgh Island Hotel is a one-of-a-kind place. It’s located on its own tidal island, making getting here as much fun as staying. At low tide, the hotel’s fleet of 4x4s can whiz you across the beach from the mainland, while there’s the sea tractor for use at high tide. The weather is a bit moody during our drive down, but the skies brighten up as we pass through the heavy gates and the stark white hotel emerges through the trees. Instead of checking in at reception, we’re guided to the bar – my kind of welcome – and two coupes of Champagne arrive instantaneously. Above us, the sun peeks through a great spiralling stained-glass ceiling, casting a warm light across the room. I already feel giddy from the glamour of it all.

Most of the rooms are named after hotel guests, but ours is the Mermaid Suite, as it overlooks the Mermaid Pool. Sheltered by the cliffs, this natural sea-water pool looks calm and inviting (but I can hear the waves crashing beyond). Sadly, it’s out of action during our stay, but I imagine returning in the summer to dive off the jetty. Our room has a cosy lounge and is decked out with vintage furniture – from the walnut art deco headboard to the retro Bush radio. When checking out the next day, it’s like emerging from a dream. We just have time for a swift pint in the hotel’s pub, The Pilchard Inn. Clinging to Burgh Island’s cliffside since the 1300s, it’s the ideal place to sit and watch the tide ebb and flow, while imagining fishermen and sailors fighting squally storms and returning home after days at sea. Then we see our ride bombing across the beach and – while browsing online for Burgh-inspired 1930s furniture – prepare ourselves for the jolt back to modern life.