A Cook’s tour
The thought came to me as I ate yet another dinner on my own in a Scottish hotel prior to yet another meeting. I am traveling around Scotland – and elsewhere – so much, staying at a variety of hotels and dwelling places, and eating my way through life. Why not create a diary of MY reviews, good or bad, of any stories that stir me to write?
The Caberfeidh in Stornoway has come to my rescue in the past, when I was delayed in Glasgow because of the Icelandic volcanic dust cloud. I eventually got to Porte-aidhre Steornobhaidh long after any vestige of Neil-the-taxi had given up and gone home. Katherine-Mary was there to sort that out, and Neil-the-taxi was duly summoned to take me into town. “And I’ll just phone them at the hotel to keep the kitchen open for you – you’ll be needing your dinner”. And so it was, when I got in to find everyone well into the post-prandials. They came up with a stunning T-bone steak that night, the pepper sauce I had ordered from the menu discarded in favour of the delicious pot of bearnese the chef “thought I would like”. Tonight then I was looking forward to a good meal.
Neil-the-taxi did indeed turn up after a wait of barely ten minutes, and when told I have to go back tomorrow was sorry to say that he wouldn’t be able to bring me to the airport, as he is going to the Black Isle with his daughter. And would I tell them at the Bayhead Clinic that their gutters are dripping onto him (he lives next door) and they will need to fix them before the winter.
I booked dinner for 7:30pm, and ordered a restorative glass of sauvignon blanc while I looked at the menu. The Caberfeidh has gone through several changes in the kitchen, and the current regime is making use of good local produce, including the seafood that the islands have discovered doesn’t all have to be exported to France and Spain. Tonight’s menu included Leurbost mussels in red onion and coriander broth, and pan fried local scallops with mint pea puree, crisp belly pork and apple sauce. I decided on these as a starter, and the “grill of the day”, venison collops and guinea fowl with dauphinoise potatoes.
The hotel is busy at the time of the year. Many people make the journey from Barra in the South all the way up the Outer Hebrides, across the waterlands of South Uist and Benbecula, the higher paths of North Uist and Harris, on into Lewis and then that magnificent sail through the Summer Isles back to Ullapool. I had a newspaper to read while I waited, and I settled down in the lounge, contemplating my supper. An hour later, I was beginning to think I should give up and walk down to the Thai restaurant in town – one of the best Thai restaurants I have been to, with genius applied to seafood. In the nick of time, I was ushered through, with reassurances and apologies for the delay, to a table way back in the dark recesses of the room! Now, I have been dining as a “single” for many years, and I don’t do dark corners. The restaurant was showing signs of recent heavy use, but there were plenty of tables towards the windows, so I stuck to my guns, and of course, a table miraculously became available. The view is of the car park, but better than the dark.
The scallops were fresh, but the pea puree was too bitter – a wee bit too much balsamic I think – and the belly pork might just as well have been Ayrshire bacon. None of the juiciness you envisage. The venison was rare to medium, and the guinea fowl tender, with a good selection of veg – asparagus, brocolli, parsnips, the ubiqitous carrot, and rather overdone dauphinoise. I was just deciding whether the sauce was too salty when all hell broke out with the fire alarm going off. It’s funny how people don’t respond, but just pause and look at one another, daring someone to make a move to the door. From my vantage point by the window, I reckoned that I could step out if the ball of flame appeared through the kitchen door, so I waited to see what would happen. Just as well, as the even more harrassed waiter appeared to tell us that it was the old trick of leaving the bathroom door open when you run the shower – a common problem in hotels.
While signing the tab and forgiving them for the mistakes, I noticed that a fantastic Moet et Chandon ice bucket on the end of the bar, far from delivering champagne, was now the home to two goldfish. What a waste, I thought, until I was informed that Basil and Sybil really like it in there!