A few days in Scotland

We've had a spate of holidays recently, which has been lovely, although the diary now stretches empty ahead of us until the back end of October. Sigh. Still, my digestion, liver and credit card all definitely need a bit of a rest, so I am hoping for some decent weather over the next few months so I can take up residence on our new outdoor decking and dedicate myself wholeheartedly to drinking tea and catching up with my Goodreads Reading Challenge.

The two "big" meals I will cover in a separate post, but in between the Michelin star, high-end deliciousness we still managed some excellent eating.

Firstly, we spent a quiet few days on the shores of Loch Fyne and, of course, we had to eat oysters at every given opportunity:

I also made it a personal goal to get thoroughly stuck in to the local venison; putting away both a loin, cooked to absolute blush-pink perfection:

And haunch shredded into a tender heap and piled into fabulously messy tacos:

Then to Glasgow, and my first lunch in the city found me sampling my first ever vegan burger - do you know, I really enjoyed it. It didn't have quite the mouthfeel of meat but the taste was rich and savoury. I will never be other than a carnivore, but I certainly wouldn't argue if someone served me up one of these in future. The beetroot bun wasn't quite up to the task of containing everything though, so I did end up eating it with a knife and fork. The shame.

We were primarily in Glasgow to go the TRNSMT festival and we were primarily at the TRNSMT festival to see Pulp play. What we learned while we were there: we are old. Festivals are not for the likes of us, even if we were of an age where we remembered the headline act being in the charts (as opposed to the majority of the audience who WEREN'T EVEN BORN IN THE 90s). The food and drink at the festival itself was not great, which, when you consider the amazing boom in street food vendors over the last few years was rather disappointing. Still, we consoled ourselves the following day with a meal at Glasgow stalwart, The Ubiquitous Chip. More venison, this time in the form of haggis (here hidden under a veil of swede and gravy):

And, of particular note, a couple of excellent desserts. D's peanut butter parfait with milk chocolate and yoghurt sorbet:

And my mango and passionfruit Rum Baba (not quite enough rum for my tastes, but forgiven since it was bursting with zingy tropical flavours):

Inver in springtime

A quick trip up to Scotland to blow out some cobwebs this weekend. A brief sojourn in Carlisle (not a place I would recommend as a foodie destination, but it does boast the most splendiforous secondhand bookshop) on the way to a night at our beloved Inver, a fabulous restaurant with rooms cum sanctuary that looks out over Loch Fyne. I'm sure I've written about it before, and if I haven't then mea culpa indeed because it is one of our very favourite places to eat.

The chef there has done stages in all manner of high-end places, including a (practically obligatory nowadays) stint at Noma. And the kind of food she cooks is very much of the same sort of sensibility - this is food that is seasonal and local and ingredient-centric but with the odd little twist or flourish that makes you go "Hmmmm" and then, more often than not, "Yum." It can be challenging sometimes, the combinations are unusual, but we have never been disappointed by the food in the five years that we have been making the trip.

This, I think, was the first time that we have been to Inver in the spring and the menu was heaving with glorious shellfish which very much floated our boats.

Snacks to start - oysters in sea buckthorn oil, cured mackerel, cockles in a pickled gel, crab on barley bannock. Fresh and lip smacking, and slipped down very easily with a glass of chilled fizz.

The garden plate - literally, greens from the garden (here, kale and goosefoot) which had just been shown the grill to give a hint of char and then served with a miso mayonnaise which rich sweetness. Makes one see the point of vegetables when they're served like this.

The Scallop and langoustine were so fresh and sweet that they required no intervention from the kitchen - served raw, they melted in the mouth, while the accompanying salad of young broccoli added crunch and a slight bitterness.

The dish of the night - brown crab meat on a buttery celeriac terrine, a salad of apple and white crab and then a creamy fermented celeriac sauce of dreams. It looks so modest in the photo; it tasted absolutely heavenly. Balanced to perfection - and I often find brown crab dishes to be too rich and sickly for my palate.

A feast of pig - loin, head, glazed belly and garlicky sausage with a zingy pickled celery and fennel salad to wake up the palate in between glorious, fatty mouthfuls.

Lanark blue cheese with chicory, chicory jam and gingerbread. I love it when restaurants only serve one cheese for the cheese course, especially when the treatment is so thoughtful and surprisingly delicious. 

A quick palate cleanser of blood orange and beeswax. I loved this, by turns bitter and sweet; D found the texture of the candied blood orange a little challenging.

Poached pear with walnut ice cream and walnut streusel and a sauce of pear juice shot through with the warmth of ginger and pepper. Another very unassuming looking dish that delivered fabulous alternating layers of succulence and spice.

Petits fours: chocolate cream on sea lettuce (frankly, challenging) and beautifully warm madeleines dusted with bay sugar (not in the least challenging; could have inhaled a bucketful even after a full meal).

Of all the meals we have had at Inver, this may have been the best yet. We are already plotting the next trip.

Inver Restaurant

Strathlachan

Strachur

Argyll & Bute

PA27 8BU

01369 860537

Foodie abroad: return to Inver

It's been less than a year since I last wrote about Restaurant Inver and I don't wish to repeat myself, but I can't allow the meal that we had there a fortnight ago to not go unmarked on this blog which, aside from anything else, is a much loved personal record for D and me of great food and great memories. As far as food and memories go, this last trip to Inver, the little restaurant on the shores of Loch Fyne, was up there with some of the best.

Full disclaimer: we were there to celebrate our tenth (tenth!) wedding anniversary. We were predisposed to be happy. We had a bottle of champagne in the room before dinner. And, as I've pondered fairly recently - has lockdown deprived me of any critical faculty I ever had with regards to eating out? I feel like I've been very effusive of late! But I stand by my assertion that Inver is one of my very favourite places to eat, and I think it is getting better every time we go. 

We started with cocktails and snacks in the cosy bar area, the best of which was some tiny cockles, suspended within their shells in a zingy lemon and fennel jelly. Although a special mention should also go to the miso hazelnut dip that accompanied the raw vegetables; anything that has D tucking into raw veg is worthy of note. Sometimes the “snack” section of a tasting menu can be substantial such that you arrive at the meal proper wondering if you have the capacity for anymore. Inver have got the knack of preparing perfectly judged morsels that deliver on flavour, texture and interest without taking up too much precious room.

 

Cockles!

And for said meal proper, we moved to the dining room, to a table looking out over the darkening loch and an offering of sourdough that was crunchy of crust and springy of bread. Perfect for dunking in the first course (one of my favourites): a tomato broth with cumin seed butter. Now I am never one for a soup course, but this was an absolute flavour bomb – buttery, rich, a hint of elusive spice and sweet-sour notes from the tomato.

And there were more treats to follow – D’s favourite course of torched mackerel with nasturtium and a loose textured, deeply savoury venison sausage which popped up on the main were particular highlights. But then we came to pudding.

Mackerel!

Now, I am not a fussy eater. There are very few things in the world that I truly dislike and would struggle to eat. But among those things is rice pudding. I just cannot get on board with rice pudding. It makes me shudder just to think about it. With a tasting menu, you accept that you just have to eat what you are given (allergies aside) but my heart sank a little when I saw that we would be having a fig leaf and ricotta rice pudding with fig and walnut and burnt honey sorbet (honey! Another ingredient that isn’t at the top of my favourites list.) D was so convinced that he would have to manfully plough his way through two desserts that he eschewed the cheese course.

In retrospect, this was a real shame. It turns out that when rice pudding is as light and creamy as this, and sits on top of a rich compote of figs and walnuts that is redolent of all of the spices of Christmas, and there is a crunch of toasted coconut on the top, and a sorbet tastes like the very best honeycomb, then it turns out that I like it. As D pointed out, the texture of the rice pudding itself was atypical – we think the rice had almost completely broken down as the texture was quite silky. As part of the whole, it worked beautifully. I’m not going to call myself a rice pudding convert because I think very few rice puddings will ever present and eat like that. But it was an absolute dream of a dessert in terms of marrying wonderful textures and flavours and I have seldom been so happy to be proved wrong.

Rice pudding!

Other notes: we think that Inver used to do a matching wine flight but that appears to have been knocked on the head, which is not really the end of the world since the wine list is thoughtful both in range and price points. We are both bitterly regretful that we missed out on not only the cheese course but the marvellous picnic breakfast the next morning (we had to leave early to catch a ferry and the kitchen very kindly did us a sandwich lunch to take with us which was really above and beyond). If you find yourself here, do NOT make our mistakes.

And I hope that someone that comes across this blog entry does make the trip because it is well worth it. Look out over the loch, eat tremendous food and enjoy this most wonderful of havens secure in the knowledge that even if your least favourite dish in the world pops up on the menu, there is a pretty good chance you will be licking the plate and exclaiming in joy and re-examining all your preconceptions. I promise.

Restaurant Inver, Strathlachlan

Before moving on to discuss our recent meal at Inver I first just have to say PARKIN. I currently have parkin in the oven, in readiness for Bonfire Night and have decided that it is officially the Best Smell in the World. Forget about baking bread or roasting chickens, this is what you want wafting from your kitchen when you invite people round. Of course, if I was an organised housefrau, I would have baked it at least a week ago so it had time to mature a little bit, but heigh ho. I am sure it will still be delicious.

Now, talking of lack of organisation, I am very annoyed at myself for not writing about Inver when we went in March of last year. It's an absolute little gem of a place which deserves to be better known (AND they served us a potato ice cream which was exciting enough to justify a post just by itself). Anyway. Better late than never, let me introduce you to a small but perfectly formed monument to modern Scottish cuisine.

The restaurant itself is situated on the shores of Loch Fyne and feels incredibly isolated, although if the roads are clear you are only an hour or so outside of Glasgow, and the town of Inveraray is not too far over the lway. But when you stand and look out over the waters, you could be a million miles from civilisation which is just how we, increasingly misanthropic as we age, like it.

Next door to the dining room, the owners have put up four shepherd bothies to allow guests to sleep over. We've stayed in two of the four and can report that they are extremely cosy and comfortable, with a slight Scandi feel to the decor, and floor to ceiling windows to allow dwellers to fully immerse themselves in the view.

The Scandi feel extends into the food served as well, and it did not come as a particular surprise to me to learn that the chef spent some time at Noma. That particular style of food - elegant, sparse, inextricably tied to the surrounding landscape - is becoming, if not ubiquitous, then certainly very prevalent in a lot of modern restaurants but when the cooking is on point, that is no bad thing. There's a lovely article on Great British Chefs that talks a little more about chef Pam Brunton's approach to food and her involvement with local suppliers and local produce. Certainly, the care she takes in sourcing her ingredients is repaid a thousand times over when you come to eat.

The highlight this time around was pheasant with apple and pear, which was an absolute masterclass in balancing sweet and savoury elements in a single dish. The breast was served with the veriest hint of blush, the leg was wrapped around sausage-meat with a little pheasant heart perched on top to add a kick of iron. Meanwhile, the buttery sourness of the apple and pear, alongside a crisp pastry, added both texture and the distinctively bittersweet notes of autumn. I must admit, I am not always a fan of fruit with meat but I couldn't get enough of it here. And, actually, one of the other showstopper moments was an amuse-bouche of duck with plum on a speculoos biscuit which, again, showed a flawless touch in harmonising ingredients of this sort.

Guests in the evening are served the tasting menu, which at £65 a head is pretty stupendous in terms of value. When we were staying, lockdown restrictions in Scotland meant that we were unable to drink wine with the meal but they did offer a juice accompaniment which D sampled and seemed to enjoy - particularly a coffee kombucha which came with the peppered doughnut dessert (and, fear not dear reader, we did manage to have some wine in the bothy before dinner).

The first time we went to Inver, I remember that as we drove away I told D that I had found my happy place, and I had a similar sense when we returned. It is not just the stunning landscape that surrounds it, or the quality of the food, but the ambience is absolutely second to none - warm and welcoming, a true haven. This year has been a particularly tough one for the hospitality industry, but I do hope that Inver weathers the storm and that we find ourselves there again soon. The world needs more Happy Places in it.

Inver

Strathlachlan

Strachur

Argyll & Bute

PA27 8BU

01369 860537

A brief escape

Usually, D and I manage to mistime everything but the gods were obviously smiling on us last week as we sneaked in a few glorious days in Scotland before the country heads back into lockdown. 

We've really toed the line this year, and have barely left the house, let alone ventured abroad. We had one night in Whitby back in September, and one lunch at our beloved Reliance a few weeks ago, and that's been pretty much it. Both of us are cautious by nature anyway, and given that we've been able to work fulltime from home, it seemed foolish to tempt fate in other ways. But, increasingly, we were getting cabin fever, and the opportunity to escape for a few days, in celebration of D's birthday, was just too good to pass up.

On Friday night, we dined at the wonderful restaurant, Inver. We first went last year and I can't see that I ever blogged about it - so I think it only fair to let it have its own post.

For the rest of the time, we mainly contented ourselves with eating glorious seafood. We were staying in a cottage on the shores of Loch Fyne, which is a name that may well be familiar to you from the restaurant chain. We went to the original Loch Fyne oyster bar and, well, you see for yourselves...

D loves a seafood platter and this one was incredibly good value, featuring a vast array of mussels, clams, langoustine, oysters, crab and lobster for £60. Me, I don't tend to go in for platters so much, but I couldn't resist sampling some oysters and it turns out that if you add a bit of smoked cheese and chilli sauce and whack them under the grill they are just as delicious, in their own way, as if you go for the naked-but-for-a-slick-of-shallot-vinaigrette version.

We spent a good few hours mooching round the little town on Inveraray which boasts not only a castle but an extremely interesting and well preserved jail and courtroom experience as well. In between learning about prisoners, and buying old fashioned sweets on the tiny high street, we repaired to the Brambles Cafe & Bistro, which did an excellent line in breakfasts and cake. In fact, D celebrated the day of his birth with a vast slab of apple and bramble pie, and wore an expression of unashamed glee throughout the consumption of the same.

It rained pretty much continuously, which, given the unremittingly gloomy news coming through, began to feel like pathetic fallacy. But then, on our last day there, the sun fought back and the most glorious rainbow appeared in the sky, soaring up over the grey expanse of loch. Which I take as a timely reminder of the Dolly Parton quotation - if you want that rainbow, you do have to put up with the rain. My goodness, but we've had some rain this year, haven't we? But there is still loveliness and beauty out there and I hope that all of us can hold onto that as we move into the darkest days of winter. 

Recipe corner: Ecclefechan tart

I know I still need to put the recipe for Christmas pudding cheesecake up but that is at home and I am not. I am currently in Edinburgh, waiting for a train back to Leeds and so it seems fitting to be talking about Scottish food.  If you have never been to Scotland (or, weirdly, Waitrose which sometimes sells little ones at Christmas as some sort of mince pie alternative) then you will probably never have come across Ecclefechan tart and that is a shame because it is lovely. I think it is nicer than its more widely known distant cousin, the Yorkshire curd tart.

I made D go to Ecclefechan once. Reader, there did not appear to be anything there. We spent the evening playing cards in the hotel bar. But we did have Ecclefechan tart. And when I told the proprietor of the Ecclefechan House Hotel that I was basically there because I was a tart groupie, she was kind enough to let me copy the recipe which had been in her possession for donkey’s years.

So, some notes. The first: I have not provided a recipe for sweet shortcrust pastry here, feel free to use your own. Or, you know, Google it. The recipe does not call for blind baking so we did not and I have not mentioned it below. It was fine. But if you are a pastry purist and you want your bottom super crisp, then you might need to improvise a little here.

The second: I was slightly short on dried fruit so I made up the weight with some mincemeat that I had hanging around. Which isn’t quite in the spirit as it will have introduced a slight element of booze and spice which shouldn’t really be there. But it still tasted lovely so it’s worth considering if you have any leftover from Christmas that needs a good home.

The third: the vinegar will smell very pronounced when you first add it, but will cook out to a mellow, slightly sour back note in the finished dish, so do not be tempted to skip.

Ingredients

1 quantity of sweet shortcrust pastry, sufficient to line a standard tart tin (ours is 9 inch)

100g butter
2 eggs
150g soft brown sugar
1 tbsp vinegar
200g mixed dried fruit (sultanas, raisins, currants)
50g chopped walnuts

Cream, to serve

Serves 8 

Roll out your pastry, line your tart tin and place in the fridge to chill until required. Preheat oven to around 160 (fan).

Place the butter in a saucepan and melt over a gentle heat.

Meanwhile, whisk the eggs and then tip in the sugar and whisk again to combine.

When the butter is melted, remove the pan from the heat and set aside for a couple of minutes to allow it to cool very slightly.

Stir the melted butter, the fruit and the vinegar through the eggs and sugar mixture.

Pour the whole lot into the tart tin and transfer to the oven to bake for around 30 mins. I covered mine with foil halfway through to stop the top from catching (but our oven is a beast).

Allow the tart to cool slightly before serving - it is best warm, not hot. Lovely with a good splash of cream.

Edited - 25 January 2021

We have been marking Burn's Night with a feast of Scottish food and revisited this recipe - but with individual tarts rather than a large one. To make two individual sized (5" diameter) tarts I used the following amounts:

35g butter

35g beaten egg

50g soft brown sugar

1 tsp vinegar

65g mixed dried fruit

15g chopped walnuts

Also - this sweet pastry recipe worked a treat (and I'm very nervous about pastry handling). I halved the recipe and there was enough for two individual tarts plus offcuts for a few mini mince pies. A sterling success.

Hello from Mull

So I promise to blog more regularly, leave you with the recipe for a truly excellent curry that FAILS TO LIST ONE OF THE KEY INGREDIENTS (thanks, Beth) and then disappear again in a puff of smoke.

The good news is a) the medication that I’m taking gives me a NORMAL DIGESTIVE SYSTEM. I cannot possibly convey to you how exciting that is after over a year of being nervous whenever I had to eat curry in public. And b) I am currently on holiday which is lovely. I write this from the flat we always take in Tobermory. There is a view across the harbour from the window. There is crappy television on the set. It is not long after seven and we are in PJs and drinking wine. We consumed rather a lot of seafood at lunchtime. Bliss.

I’ll be back soon, especially because I want to fill you all in on the most wonderful meal we had on the way up here, at a restaurant that sits right on the shore of Loch Fyne. In the meantime, Tobermory Cat (Ledaig to his friends) sends greetings.

Chips, cheese, chips and cheese

Heavy snow at the end of last week meant that we were slightly worried about the journey up to Mull. Luckily, the roads were clear but we were treated to stunning views like this:

It's been grey skies and rain for most of our time here; fortunately we don't come to Scotland for the weather. And, at last, this morning we have been treated to the clearest of blue skies and an island awash with winter sunshine.

As I mentioned in my last post, not much is open here. And the places that are open are offering somewhat limited menus. Which means for the last week we have basically been eating things accompanied by chips or covered with cheese.

On one occasion I ordered a macaroni cheese and it came WITH CHIPS. Just...why? Actually, the real question is why did I eat most of them...

I think it's safe to say that the 2.4 lbs I lost during the first two weeks of the year will be back on Monday and they may be bringing a couple of friends with them. Ah well. It's been a lovely, relaxing break but I am well and truly stodged out which means that I am positively looking forward to a couple of days of fasting next week (remind me of that when I'm drooping and moaning on Monday!)

A poor excuse for a meal plan

D rebuked me this morning for not posting this week's meal plan.  "How am I supposed to know what I'm going to eat?" he said. 

I didn't bother, mainly because:

a) there are only some many times you can write: "Fast Day - soup" without it being oppressively dull for all concerned and the entries for both Monday and Wednesday this week consist of "Fast Day - soup".

b)  we are going away on Friday so I don't know what, exactly, I'll be eating.  We'll be staying in Ecclefechan on Friday night so it will be something followed by Ecclefechan tart.  And we're having lunch in Oban on Saturday so likely fish will be consumed.  And Sunday night will either be a pub meal on Mull or the best of whatever the Mull Co-op has to offer.

c)  that just leaves two days of home cooking to plan.  And that didn't seem worthwhile.  But for what it is worth this is what we are having:

Tuesday:  Bang Bang turkey (only with chicken - using some leftover sauce from the Christmas batch and some leftover chicken which was located, lurking, in the depths of the freezer)

Thursday:  Cottage pie.  Brisket mince, again, from the depths of the freezer, stretched out with some veg and red lentils and topped with a blue cheese and chive mash.  Probably peas on the side because there should always be peas on the side of cottage pie (or shepherd's pie).

And there you have it.  You're welcome, D.

Foggy Friday

Bloody hell, another week as positively whizzed by and we're already nearly half way through January!  Out first week of fasting yielded me a pound loss (hurrah!) and D a magnificent 3.8 pounds.  He's being quite strict on non-fast days as well, so the result was hard earned and well deserved.

All has been quiet chez nous; I've practically been hibernating since the start of the year and I have no intention of doing very much this weekend either.  There are books to read and films to watch and cats to cuddle and cups of tea to be consumed and very content with that I am too.  However, we are rousing ourselves at the end of next week and decamping to Mull for a week.  A week which we will probably spend mostly reading, watching films and drinking tea, just in a different environment and without the cat. 

It turns out that lots of things shut on Mull in January.  Actually, in other parts of Scotland too, since we are stopping off in Ecclefechan (home of the famous and delicious Tart) and planned to visit a famous Scottish person's birthplace which is situated there, only to have our intentions frustrated by out of season opening hours.  So we're going to Gretna Green instead because I've never been and it's on the way. 

If you're still ploughing through the remains of the Christmas turkey, I've got a marvellous recipe to share which post I will schedule now while I am thinking about it.  If you're not, how go your New Year Eatings? 

Have a lovely weekend all. 

MPM: 16th October 2017

Full disclosure - last week was not so much 5:2 as 6:1.  Although since we (and by we I mean D) cracked fairly late in the day on Thursday, total calorie consumption probably still came in at less than 1000.  I'm learning the art of moderation in my old age and am sometimes forgetting to eat for the sake of it.  Hurrah for personal growth.

This, plus the fact that I am currently Sober for October, led to a very pleasing 2lb loss this week.  3lbs more and I will be back down to this year's low, which occurred about a week after my operation when I was basically subsisting on copious cups of tea and the occasional biscuit. 

I'm not really talking about the Sober for October thing (it feels deserving of capitals for some reason) because I am sick of making proclamations on this blog and then failing and doing the written equivalent of falling flat on my face.  So, there it is, it's the 16th of October and I haven't had a drink so far this month but it's not a big deal and I promise not to mention it again.  Actually, on Saturday night I did accidentally eat a whisky caramel truffle so in the most puritannical of eyes, I've already blown it.  It was a really good chocolate though, and probably worth it.

Moving on to this week's meal plan.  I am away for work on Wednesday night in EDINBURGH and trying hard to be cool about it because D will be left at home alone to weep into his solitary supper.  Every other night finds us at home, and the plan looks like this:

Monday: fast day - soup

Tuesday: jacket potato with baked beans and cheese, salad, coleslaw

Thursday: bangers and mash with red onion gravy

Friday: spaghetti carbonara

Saturday: chicken Xacutti (a form of Goan curry.  We're making this using a Rafi's spice pack and have high hopes)

Sunday: roast pork belly with white beans, black pudding and braised red cabbage

Another 6:1 week (we decided that fasting on a day involving many hours of travelling would not work out too well.  Yes, it's an excuse.  Yes, we could have slotted in another day.  Yes, we are, in fact, rubbish).  Lots of comforting, autumnal type dishes, most of which are being sourced, in whole or in part, from our freezer so shopping is being kept to minimal levels. 

Have a lovely week les touts!

Home

The alarm went off at 5:15 this morning and we left Mull by the 7 o clock ferry which smelled strongly of stewed coffee. I dozed for much of the drive and so saw only brief flashes of the dramatic rolling hills that flank the road south from Oban, and the shining waters of Loch Lomond. We stopped once, briefly, for petrol and M&S sandwiches (smoked salmon and cream cheese, ham and cheddar) and, as a result, made it back to Leeds by early afternoon where the first cup of tea, brewed in our own teapot, tasted exactly like home.

The cat is back with us, much to our mutual joy, and is currently curled up next to me. She says to say hello to the blog readers.

I said yesterday that I would decide on my favourite holiday dish on the ferry; I lied. I tried to sleep on the ferry, with my head cushioned on my handbag. When we discussed it last night, D said that he thought Cafe Fish's Goan fish curry was the star turn - and it was, indeed, excellent, so I will go with that - certainly, I've already been searching out recipes online to try and recreate it. But it's hard to compare breakfasts and burgers and high end Glasgow establishments and island pub grub; suffice it to say we have eaten well across the fortnight and, no doubt, the scales tomorrow (or the next day) will bear witness. Sigh.

Still, I'll worry about that later. For now, I'm indulging in the mild melancholia that comes with the end of a holiday, tempered by my pleasure at being back at home surrounded by all home comforts, flanked by the feline and looking forward to an episode or two of Bake Off on the telly box. Life is good.

Day 14: Mull - summertime sadness

Is there anything sadder than the end of a holiday? 

The only bright spot on the (currently rain drenched) horizon is the fact that tomorrow I get to see my beloved Minx (assuming that there are no problems on the roads to delay us). Unlike some cats, who get in a bit of a snit after being sent into exile, she goes into giddy, grateful mode when we are reunited, so I am anticipating many purrs and cuddles tomorrow evening. And few things soothe the soul like a furry, purry ball of pussycat. Here, in fact, is La Minx doing her contended face:

Otherwise, I am sorry to leave Tobermory and Mull and Scotland but I think that we have managed a nice balance between activity and sleepy, bookish torpor. We have also eaten and drunk well for the most part (with one last fishy hurrah to come this evening). Naming a Top Holiday Dish will be hard, but at least it will give me something to do on the ferry tomorrow.

Day 13: Mull - eating out

Buggeration - I got so distracted by "Wolf Hall" that I completely forgot to post yesterday. Which is odd because I know how "Wolf Hall" is going to pan out: spoiler alert, it is NOT going to end well for Anne Boleyn.

And, of course, the challenge to blog every day was an entirely arbitrary, self-imposed one and no one will really care that I slipped up, but still, buggeration.

Let's distract from the fact that this is late by posting some pictures of food from a couple of Mull establishments, shall we? This has not been a holiday focussed on exotic or adventurous dining; if I had to sum it up in a single word, that word would be "comfort". And what is more comforting than sausages?

When I was young, and we would holiday in North Yorkshire, the biggest treat imaginable was a pub meal and I would nearly always opt for sausages. A proper, British banger, with chips or mash, you go a long way to beat it. MacGochans, one of Tobermory's busiest purveyors of pub grub, served theirs with bubble and squeak which is a variation I shall allow - just. While I think it is a bit of a shame that they are trying to position themselves as a restaurant with a bar rather than a pub that serves food, I still like it here and they served me up haggis lollipops so I am bound to love them forever.

We've managed two meals - a dinner and a lunch - in the peerless (for Tobermory at least) Cafe Fish with a third to come this evening. This salt and pepper squid was perfection - crispy and salty, warm from the pepper, the squid beneath with just the right balance of tender and chew. If you only eat out in one place while you are here, let this be that place. And definitely order the squid.

Day 12: Mull - the art of scones

Hidden away in a forest, about 12 miles from the town of Tobermory, is a gorgeous little walk through a forest called (I think) "Art in Nature". Someone has gone to the trouble of installing some beautiful sculptures into the forest itself. And, at the end, you emerge onto a white-sanded beach called Calgary Bay. It's idyllic, well worth checking out if you ever find yourself on Mull.

What I especially like is that it begins (or ends, depending on preference) with a tearoom. All good walks should involve cups of strong tea and fruited scones slathered with butter and jam. The scones at Calgary were golden and crumbly and lightly scented with cinnamon which is a splendid idea that I intend to pilfer when next I bake scones, which I do not do nearly enough.

A Very Good Day.

Day 11: Mull - over the yardarm

Ah, holidays. It is six o clock ON THE DOT and I am sitting outside the local pub with a glass of wine BECAUSE IT IS ALLOWED. Above, a surprisingly blue sky given how doomy and gloomy were the earlier weather predictions. It is also exceedingly mild considering that we are now into September. Not quite balmy, but not all that far off.

We have had such a lazy couple of days which has been gorgeous, especially since my book group decided to make "Wolf Hall" their Big Summer Read. I'm enjoying it very much, although I have started alternating chunks of its dense, beautiful prose with chapters of cupcake-strewn chick lit for shits and giggles. 

I also am in serious danger of turning in to a fish given the amount I've been choffing since we got here. Every meal, breakfast aside, has been marine based and it has been GLORIOUS. Check out the stunningness of Cafe Fish's posh fish finger open sandwich (today's lunch) draped with a beautiful, dill spiked slaw:

Day 10: Mull - Meal Planning Monday abroad

After a week of eating out for every meal, being in self catering accommodation is utterly glorious. This morning, I have had an apple and a cup of tea for breakfast - you can't do that when you have a solicitous Scottish matron hovering at your elbow (as in our Islay B&B) and you won't do that when you've paid good money to include breakfast in the room price (even if the scrambled eggs are rather pale and watery).

But we are obviously still on holiday, so I'm loath to commit to a firm meal plan for the week. We've got a table booked at Cafe Fish on Friday and we always try and fit in a trip to Mull's foremost public house, MacGochan's, where they serve surprisingly good steak. Also, currently reposing in our fridge, a sackful of fresh fish: mackerel, pollock and ling, caught by our own fair hands which we intend to turn into a hearty stew and a lightly spiced fish pate. So zero likelihood of going hungry here.

I've been trawling through photos looking for stuff to share; is it just us who seem to snap nothing but food? But anyway, here we have D's first seafood platter of the holiday:

This was taken at Sea Salt, in Islay, a pizzeria cum bistro which did a decent line in seafood. D loves a platter. He has got through a couple of others since, and plots to hoover up more before our return home.

Also from Sea Salt, a black pudding and goats' cheese salad. This was a starter. A STARTER.

I adored this intensely savoury combination, lifted by the tangle of sweet onions on top, and would love to use it myself. This was all a bit much though especially when, y'know, it's a starter and there is more food to follow.

Here is something a wee bit more...wee.

Caviar with oatcakes and creme fraiche - what a treat to see this on the menu at Cafe Fish on Saturday. I can't remember the last time I had caviar - it is probably considered rather passé in these days of austerity. Gorgeous.

Day 9: Mull - gone fishing

We are settled in to our self catering apartment in Tobermory. The location is perfect: the building was originally a bonded warehouse for the distillery and is situated at one end of the main street with views across the bay. We are within staggering distance of the pub (excellent) but nothing is very much further away than a five minute saunter.

D and I spent the afternoon fishing and several fillets of freshly caught mackerel are about five minutes away from being cooked for supper. As such, this post shall be necessarily short and sweet.

Day 8: Oban/Mull - crossing over

Oban rose in my estimation this morning when, while mooching around waiting for our ferry, we spotted not one but two local cats. I always approve of a town with cats.

This one was sitting outside the Seafood Shack, patiently awaiting his breakfast, which shows him to be a feline of impeccable taste. The Shack is probably the best place to eat in Oban, serving up the freshest seafood possible with minimal messing. Crabs are dressed, mussels cooked in a little wine and garlic, salmon lightly smoked. Sandwiches are available in three varieties: crab, prawn or aforementioned smoked salmon, generously filled and ludicrously delicious in their simplicity. Unfortunately, it is impossible to make such a thing look glamorous.

Last night, we dined at a local seafood restaurant called Ee-usk which, again, favoured a simple approach and produced some very nice food as a result. I had hake with a mussel sauce - two favourite ingredients of mine - and was pleased to see them so sensitively treated, especially after ranting about the British propensity for over-cooking yesterday.

But beyond fish and felines, Oban failed to reveal to us any hidden depths and I am not sad to go, particularly as we are now away over the sea to Mull where we intend to spend a week doing very, very little. The blog posts may well get very dull indeed...

Day 7: Islay/Oban - interlude

The town of Oban chiefly consists of a road lined with shops and bars that hugs itself around the curl of a bay. Above, a great, round tower looms and, at the far end, sits the ferry port. The constant sight and sound of the ferries going back and forth make Oban feel very much like a place to go through rather than to. Which is why, this year, we decided to make it a destination in itself and spend an evening. I will report back shortly as to whether or not this was a wise decision. Perhaps some places are better off as thoroughfares.

We have already completed the Oban distillery tour, our sixth in four days, and have declared ourselves officially "whiskied out". Tonight, there will be seafood and then tomorrow, we set sail for our beloved Mull. I am looking forward to being in self catering accomodation with my own, albeit basic, kitchen. Eating out for every meal becomes tedious very quickly, especially when (food snob alert!) so many places out there serve such remarkably average food.

I am always wont to leap to the defence of British food culture which, at its best is one of the most exciting and varied and lovely in the world. In the middle of the market, though, we Brits do need to take a couple of things on board. One: seasoning is not a dirty word. A pinch of salt, a dash of pepper, even a squeeze of citrus, can bring a dish to life. And two: for the love of the Teapot do we HAVE to cook everything to the point of cremation? Professional chefs - and, it follows, diners - need to get a wee bit braver.