We do not take pictures with a post in mind. We never have. No shot list, no minibar photo. Some hotel bloggers post sixty pictures of the same hotel. It is either a fetish or a paid promotion. We just stay.
The estate sits in the Franschhoek valley, on the slopes of the Dassenberg, surrounded by vineyards. Roughly 78 hectares for around two dozen rooms. It feels enormous, because it is. And for that number of rooms, it also feels empty. At breakfast, we were glad to see another guest.
That is the point, of course. People come here for the quiet, the privacy, the space. Whether they get it is another question.
The main building is a restored 19th-century Cape Dutch manor house. Walking in, the first impression is quiet grandeur. Art everywhere, sculptures across the grounds, a lounge that feels more like a wealthy private home than a hotel lobby.
It is a beautiful property. There is no getting around that.
Founded by Analjit Singh. “Leeu” means lion. So does Singh. He bought several farms and built what is now the Leeu Collection, which also includes Leeu House, Le Quartier Francais, and Linthwaite House in England.
La Petite Colombe, the sister restaurant to La Colombe in Constantia, also sits on the estate and is a main attraction for the hotel. We had a reservation but cancelled it. By that point in the trip, we had given up hope for the La Colombe Group.
We stayed in Fynbosch Cottage, one of the standalone options on the property. On paper, it is the real thing: private garden, plunge pool, and a dedicated butler for the duration of your stay.
On paper.
The cottage is lovely. It feels like a small house, not a hotel room. A sitting room, a bedroom that opens straight onto the garden, a big bathroom, good linen, and the mountain view in front. The kind of place you walk into and immediately put your bag down and sit.
But it sits a good ten to fifteen minutes on foot from the main building. You can call for a buggy, which is fine. What is less fine is that the cottage was not on the estate map. We asked beforehand, and it took a couple of days to get a straight answer.
Just that it was “on the property.” Somewhere on 78 hectares.
The weather was against us. Rain and wind, both nights. And the cottage has the acoustics of a drum. Every gust, every branch, every creak. The house speaks to you, loudly.
One night, lying in bed, I genuinely could not tell if baboons had come down from the mountain to throw a pool party outside, or if it was just the trees. Or an intruder.
My mind wandered to the panic buttons in the bedside drawers. They were there, which tells you something. We passed a guard on the road leaving the main building area.
Near our cottage, a watch house a little further up the hill with lights on, but we never saw anyone there. They are probably watching every metre, but it did not feel like it.
The pool had a large willow tree beside it, shedding yellow leaves faster than anyone could clear them. Not that it mattered. The weather soon ruled out both the pool and the hot tub.
And the hot tub, even on a good day, we would not have used. Hot tubs need constant maintenance. When they sit still between guests, they become something else entirely. The Nespresso machine, you can rinse. A hot tub, you are getting in.
A path ran along the side of the cottage behind a low hedge. Workers passed by regularly. The garden, the pool, the hot tub, all visible. Not exactly the privacy you expect at this level.
On a couple of occasions, we noticed a smell around the cottage that anyone who has walked through central San Francisco would recognise. Maybe harmless. Probably harmless. But in a cottage sold on privacy and seclusion, it did not add to the feeling of being looked after.
Trust in the privacy and security of the cottage? Not entirely.
Dinner was included in our stay. We missed it. It was buried in a pre-arrival email between questions about transfer details and Apple TV apps. At check-in, nobody mentioned it. We only realised later, at checkout, when it was not on the bill.
We had dinner once. The dining room is beautiful, and open only to staying guests. The service was good, attentive, warm.
The food was fine. Solid, competently prepared. The meat was cooked correctly, the carrot needed a little more attention, the mash just on the brink of being lumpy. Not a bad effort, but nothing that made us reach for a notebook.
Breakfast is served in the same room. A small buffet with cook-to-order options. Slightly better than what we had at Le Quartier Francais, which itself was not something to write home about. One of the saddest breakfasts on our trip.
And speaking of things that were supposed to be part of the stay, where was our dedicated butler? The one promised on the website. We never saw one. Perhaps the butler was on the same map as the cottage.
The estate is home to Mullineux & Leeu Family Wines, a partnership between winemakers Chris and Andrea Mullineux and Analjit Singh. Two wineries: Mullineux in the Swartland, Leeu Passant here in Franschhoek.
The wine tasting was the highlight, as it was the last time.
We did the Mullineux Single Terroir tasting, different soil types in the Swartland. Granite, Iron, Schist, with clear differences in the wine. They use broadly similar vinification, so you can taste the role the site and soil play. It is the same idea that makes Burgundy fascinating: one grape, different places, different results. Terroir is everything.
The Schist 2024 Chenin Blanc was outstanding. Focused, mineral, with a precision that made everything else in the lineup lean slightly to the side.
Naturally, it was sold out.
There is no question that the estate is beautiful. The gardens, the art, the mountains. The people are nice, the service is friendly. A step up from Le Quartier Francais.
But beauty and a good stay are not the same thing. Something about it felt a little impersonal.
Cold is a hard word, but still. A beautiful house where the lights are on but no one is quite home.
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