Haste Ye Back
By Roberta Muir
It’s always hardest to write about the things dearest to our hearts; describing sights, smells, flavours and experiences is easy, describing feelings is much harder, and Scotland is somewhere that I feel. I believe I’ve saved the best til last on this tour of Britain and Ireland but as we sail from Belfast into the port of Stranraer on Scotland’s southwest coast I can’t help but wonder if this will be the time I fail to feel the magic of my father’s homeland…
First stop is Scotland’s earthiest city, Glasgow, which grew up around the shipbuilding industry of the River Clyde and is proud of its gritty, working-class background. It seems appropriate to head to The Ubiquitous Chip, a wonderfully quirky venue down a cobbled mews in the bohemian West End, a collection of relaxed eating and drinking spaces: the cobbled courtyard overgrown with greenery like a tropical rainforest, the cosier dining room, moody brasserie, new light-filled mezzanine overlooking the courtyard, plus the big pub, wee pub and corner bar, a nook or cranny to suit every occasion.
Opened in 1971 ‘The Chip’ was definitely at the forefront of the reinvention of Scottish cuisine, putting Scotland’s superb produce on the plates of local diners at a time when it was largely going to continental Europe where it was more appreciated. The focus on produce remains The Chip’s signature, with the back page of the menu listing the provenance of most ingredients and native foodstuffs such as haggis, Finnan haddies, tatties (potatoes) and neeps (turnips) handled simply and deliciously. Meats like Perthshire pork and local seafood, one of Scotland’s greatest natural resources, are prepared in simple, thoughtful combinations. Medium-rare Orkney salmon with faintly-vanilla-scented mashed potatoes is surrounded by a vivid red capsicum and vermouth sauce, while Aberdeen Angus sirloin sits comfortably alongside beef stovies (a traditional peasant dish of hashed potatoes, meat and dripping), wild mushrooms and béarnaise sauce. Great produce, simply prepared, tasting excellent! While desserts such as a tart of rhubarb poached in ginger with a light custard are very tempting, this may be your best chance to try a selection of Scotland’s farmhouse cheeses, including several unpasteurised specimens like mild Lanark Blue sheep’s milk, Tobermory Isle of Mull cheddar and Inveroch Isle of Gigha goat’s milk cheeses. Just like the dining options, The Chip’s large, well-priced wine list offers something for everyone and with 150 malt whiskies on offer Scotland’s national drink is treated seriously as well.
But the Highlands, Scotland’s most magical region, are calling, so we head to Scrabster on the far northeast coast (further than many lowland Scots ever venture). Here, nine years ago, Jim and Mary Cowie bought an old salmon icing station with bothy (sleeping quarters) attached; it was virtually derelict and took patience, perseverance and almost three years to restore to the charming structure that now houses The Captain’s Galley Restaurant. From the street it looks no different to many old-whitewashed cottages, but step inside the dining room, which has just one window facing the main street (a modern addition) and one small ‘window’ high up on the back wall (actually a shoot through which ice was tossed to chill the salmon originally processed here), and you’re entering another world. The entire structure, including the perfectly domed ceiling, is built of local stone with flagged slate flooring, woodwork trim adds warmth and the adjoining bothy is now a rusticly cosy bar for pre-dinner drinks. The kitchen and front conservatory, recent additions, blend well into this listed building.
Jim worked most of his life in the seafood industry, selling and processing the local catch. He’s an instinctive cook who, despite gaining the critics recognition in the past couple of years (including most recently a Michelin recommendation), is most pleased by the fact that his 28-seater restaurant is usually full and is quick to point out that he’ll continue to do what he’s always done – cook for his customers not the reviewers. His philosophy is simple: take superb local seafood, literally whatever the boats bring to his door that day, and prepare it simply while having a bit of fun with flavours along the way. The brief ever-changing menu lists four each entrees, main courses and desserts. Hand-dived scallops with Café de Paris butter; a quenelle of picked crabmeat alongside one of guacamole and one of lime granita with crisp, chilli-spiked tortilla crisps; and a thick moist fishcake of salmon, pollock and halibut topped with tender deep-fried rings of squid, are typical starters. Mains are of generous proportion and may include saithe (a thick meaty cod-like fish) coated in Cajun spices, seared until blackened then well rested alongside a buttery mound of colcannon (potato and cabbage mash) with a sweet pile of succotash, or a mound of delicate, succulent halved grilled langoustines with a saffron-golden aioli. A rich, melting chocolate fondant with classic vanilla ice cream is one of the few dishes that never leaves the menu, while seasonal rhubarb (Scotland’s favourite dessert at the moment) appears as pale twigs poached in a light ginger syrup, alongside a wobbly, just-holding-together amaretto pannacotta - the best rhubarb dish I’ve tried in 5 weeks of rhubarb desserts! Jim’s delighted to finally be able to offer a platter of four Highland cheeses, evidence of just how far the revolution in Scottish cuisine has come even in the past six years, as when he opened in late 2002 he wasn’t able to find a single local cheese to put on the menu.
The drive across the very north of Scotland is something everyone should experience at least once in a lifetime. I first came to the Scottish Highlands almost 20 years ago and was staggered by its beauty; every subsequent trip has left me equally gobsmacked. One of Europe’s last great wildernesses, its beauty is not the unbelievably green fields of Ireland or the simple majestic peaks of northern Wales, rather much of it, the northernmost region of Sutherland in particular, consists of brooding rugged chunks of rock rising up out of heather and gorse-covered moorland scattered with lochs and burns. The roads, generally single lane tracks with frequent well-marked passing places, twist and wind through the landscape, and around every corner is a sweeping vista of craggy mountains, steel-grey lochs and purple-brown moorland more beautiful than the last; the sky is normally obliging shades of brooding grey to keep the colour scheme consistent.
So through this prehistoric landscape we drive to the Summer Isles Hotel in Achiltibuie on the north west coast, surely one of Britain’s most remote hotels with one of the most beautiful views over the Summer Isles in the mouth of Loch Broom. The unassuming white frontage, covered with windows to make the most of the views from the public rooms, is instantly welcoming, while a range of comfortable accommodation is scattered around the property including spacious log cabins, a charming stone croft converted to a two-storey suite, and another cottage in its own grounds two-minutes walk from the hotel.
A table d’hote dinner is served promptly at 8pm with pre-dinner drinks in the bar beforehand. The best oyster I’ve ever tasted came from near here, so I’m delighted when plump, perfect local oysters are served with drinks … as delicious as I recall. The light-filled dining room has rustic touches including small posies of bright flowers from the garden, giving a feeling of dining in a private home, with staff hovering politely in the doorway between courses. The menu changes daily, with a strong focus on local produce including seafood and game, and pastas, breads and desserts all prepared in-house. After the main course the waiter asks which we’d prefer first, cheese or dessert; we go down the European route of cheese first (interestingly the other three tables – all Brits – choose dessert first). Now they have my attention, I feel like a kid in a lolly shop, choosing between such excellent British cheeses as Colston Bassett (widely the favoured stilton wherever we’ve been), Scotland’s Dunsyre Blue and Ireland’s Cashel Blue, Devon’s Ticklemore goats cheese, single Gloucester and Isle of Mull cheddar as well as a few French classics including Fourme d’Ambert and a very ripe Brie de Meaux, served with a variety of crackers, house-made relish, grapes and figs. The dessert trolley follows and is equally pleasing with a tangy fragile lemon tart, honeycomb ice cream, meringue and fresh berry terrine and Baileys and white chocolate cheesecake. Well-chosen wines are offered with each course, though guests are also free to select a bottle from the extensive list.
The hotel’s
breakfast is deservedly famous for its luscious ripe berries (in season),
superb Achiltibuie kippers and Loch Fyne smoked haddock as well as the full
Scottish breakfast of eggs, bacon, black pudding, and tattie scones. And while
lunch is a far simpler affair, it’s my most memorable as the one dish on offer
is a cold platter of West Coast seafood including those memorable oysters, langoustine, squat lobster, crab, cured and smoked
salmon and mackerel served simply with house-baked bread, mayo and butter.
All good things must come to an end, and if you have to come down from a Highland high, the best place to come to earth is Scotland’s most charming city, Edinburgh. And perhaps the best address to wash ashore in Edinburgh is The Balmoral Hotel. Built in 1901 by the Scottish Railways at 1 Princes St, Edinburgh’s most exclusive address manages to have a simultaneously grand yet utilitarian feel, with the slight air of an exclusive gentleman’s club.
Tables at Number One, the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant, are set with crisp, thick linen, Christofle, Riedel and Villeroy & Bosh, yet the effect is understated elegance in the way that Scotland, and this grand old city in particular, does so well; the laquerware-maroon walls with touches of burnished gold add to the clubby atmosphere. Dinner here is a leisurely affair, starting with a plate of four tiny appetisers, each less than a mouthful, such as foie gras and gingerbread sandwich, chorizo and parmesan doughnut, sweetcorn and coriander crepe and a cube of smoked eel and potato gratin. They’re enough to tickle the palate but the official amuse bouche follows, perhaps an unctuous cube of smoked pork loin with quinoa and caramelised apple.
The menu itself continues the Balmoral’s flare for dichotomy offering traditional fare with a modern edge. Produce reflects Scotland’s pride in home-grown goods such as glassy-centred hand-dived scallops with shards of translucent crisp pancetta, Savoy cabbage puree and a hint of French truffle. Creamy soft polenta provides a bed for a thick chock of on-the-bone Monkfish topped with crisp flash-fried mussels, and fillet of Borders beef is matched with a rich raviolo of oxtail, pureed squash and braised leeks. Challans duck is cooked sous vide to succulent pinkness then pan seared for colour and texture, producing a deliciously moist result, enlivened with a tangy pineapple and clove glaze alongside a disc of crisped mashed potato.
Scotland is a country known for its baking and sweets, and here desserts often shine more than elsewhere. A pre-dessert of coconut pannacotta topped with rose champagne jelly and pistachio foam is refreshing and primes the palate as intended. Slivers of poached rhubarb sit atop a crumbly pistachio financier base alongside a scroll of honey parfait, while rich chocolate mousse contrasts with slivers of dried blood orange and cool chocolate sorbet. And to end as we began, a plate of tiny, less-than-a-mouthful petits four, including a swirls of lemon meringue, a tiny cube of strawberry jelly, squares of basil dark- and praline milk-chocolate, and a wafer thin cocoa nib tuile.
Like Australians, Scots are naturally hospitable but not necessarily naturally good at ‘serving’, it took both countries some time to develop a real ‘hospitality’ mentality. At the Balmoral, service is a strength with staff achieving the delicate balance of friendliness without familiarity and service without obsequiousness, they are themselves and it works well. The wine list is extensive reflecting the best of old and new world, though with a heavy emphasis on old as might be expected in such a revered establishment.