Slide Show On the Isle of Skye, most of the restaurants, including the Glenview, a relative newcomer with a menu that changes daily, also function as inns
A few days later, I was chatting with Paul McGlynn, the 35-year-old owner of
Isle of Skye Oysters, which provides oysters for many of the restaurants on the island. “You don’t have to do fancy cooking to make it taste good,” he said of the island’s seafood, as he cracked open another oyster for me to sample. They were just as good as the ones at the Glenview. “And then there are the other guys,” he continued, referring to the island’s seafood purveyors. “David Oakes in Sconsor, Peter MacAskill in Loch Eishort.” (Scallops and mussels, respectively.)
Mr. McGlynn’s philosophy is a testament to the freshness of the island’s seafood. Skye stretches out from the west coast of Scotland like a skeletal hand; sheltered between those finger-like peninsulas are the sea lochs, where much of the marine bounty is harvested by purveyors like Mr. McGlynn.
The reputation of Skye’s seafood isn’t anything new, of course: “That the sea abounds with fish, needs not be told, for it supplies a great part of Europe,” wrote Samuel Johnson in 1775, after his visit to the island, a fact that is still true.
But we wanted to go to the source. In doing so, Nancy and I found an intensely local, seasonal food scene (most of these inns are closed in the winter), and, from Mr. McGlynn’s shed to ambitious venues like the Glenview, a breathtaking level of freshness and casual creativity.
The Glenview
Oysters were just the start at the Glenview, a relative newcomer to the island. Opened in 2008 by Simon Wallwork, a British-born, Australian-raised chef, and Kirsty Faulds, his Scottish fiancée, the Glenview is one of the few restaurants we visited that didn’t feature stunning vistas of the craggy, verdant Skye landscape (not that the view is unpleasant: plenty of sheep grazed just outside the window). No matter. The décor is subdued and tasteful, like a well-appointed farmhouse.
But the real stars are on the plate. Like Mr. McGlynn, Mr. Wallwork has a decidedly straightforward attitude. “My philosophy is, ‘What’s local is what we’ll serve,’ ” he told me later. “Whatever the guys are landing is what we’ll put on the menu.” Indeed, that menu changes daily and usually includes not just local seafood, but meat and greens from elsewhere on the island.
After those oysters (served on a bed of seaweed, with a wedge of lemon the only accompaniment), our two-course menu began with an Asian-inspired seafood broth flavored with lemon grass, cilantro and ginger, with “hand-dived” scallops and bright orange mussels. The broth was fragrant but subtle, letting the shellfish shine. Another pleasing starter, a beet tarte tatin, featured goat cheese from the Highlands and a lovely tangle of Skye greens.
Among the entrees, a slice of roasted pork (again, from a Skye purveyor) was tender, with a rich sweetness. The only disappointment of the meal was a roasted pollock (known in Scotland as lythe), caught off the port of Mallaig, just across the Sound of Sleat from Skye. The fish had a tender, flaky texture, but was overwhelmed by a layer of raw parsley, chervil and mint. Still, the flavors of the sea and land lingered as we finished our meal with a wee bit of maple fudge.
The Glenview, Culnacnoc, near Staffin, Trotternish; (44-147) 0562-248; glenviewskye.co.uk. A two-course dinner, without drinks or tip, is £24.50, or about $38 at $1.56 to the pound. Closed from December to February.
The Flodigarry Country House
Just up the mostly single-lane road from the Glenview is the Flodigarry Country House, with a relaxed bistro and a dinner-only restaurant, as well as 18 guest rooms (in fact, almost all of the places where we dined during our trip also function as inns). We had hoped to spend our lunch at one of the bistro’s outdoor tables, which offered views of the shoreline; alas, a constant drizzle kept us indoors. The interior was almost a parody of a Scottish dining room (tartan carpets, coats of arms and pieces of armor on the walls), but we found it charming.
First up was a satisfying seafood chowder (known in Scotland as cullen skink) with island haddock; more of those bright, tender mussels; chunks of potatoes and a huge langoustine perched on top. We had more langoustines (caught in creels, metal-framed baskets woven through with nylon rope, in a nearby loch), grilled and served halved with a simple garlic and herb butter. Like the oysters, they combined brine with sweetness and were spectacular.
We sampled pan-fried Skye scallops, daintily balanced atop circles of local zucchini, along with crispy fried leeks, and pints from the Isle of Skye Brewery. Curiously, the scallops were served at room temperature, but were pliant, not rubbery. Each had its vivid orange roe, which partly encircled the scallop, still attached, giving it an extra salty kick.
Flodigarry Country House, Flodigarry, Trotternish; (44-147) 0552-203; flodigarry.co.uk. Lunch for two, without drinks or tip, averages about £45. Closed November to February (open between Christmas and New Year’s Day).
Loch Bay Seafood Restaurant
On the peninsula of Waternish, across from the carefully manicured gardens at the edge of Loch Dunvegan, is the cozy Loch Bay Seafood Restaurant. The dark-wood dining room features comfortable leather chairs, and displays of pottery by local artists who are also responsible for the elegantly decorated bowls and plates.
I started lunch with one of the restaurant’s specialty ales, an ebulum — a strong, dark brew fermented with elderberries. It was probably the wrong accompaniment for the delicate seafood that was headed our way, but when was I going to have a chance to try elderberry beer again? And here came the seafood: first up, more prawns, from the loch mere yards away, again grilled with an herb butter. They were accompanied by terrifically crisp fries. (Housemade tartar sauce was also offered — it was tasty but entirely unnecessary.)
Another starter: a plate of peat-smoked salmon from Mallaig, sliced thin and presented in a crown shape. Unlike the Nova lox I’m used to, this salmon was a particularly pale shade of pink, and was less salty and greasy, more delicate, with a pleasant chew. We also ordered a bowl of Atlantic surf clams, culled from a loch near Fort William, on the Scottish west coast, served in a saffron-cream broth. The clams were appealingly chewy and paired nicely with the mild broth, but didn’t stand out, as some of the other local shellfish did.
Loch Bay Seafood Restaurant, Stein, Waternish; (44-147) 0592-235; lochbay-seafood-restaurant.co.uk. An average lunch for two, without drinks and tip, is about £45. Closed Saturday through Monday, and mid-October to Easter.
Kinloch Lodge
While
Three Chimneys, a rightfully beloved restaurant and inn in a particularly remote spot on the island, has garnered its share of international acclaim, Kinloch, the only Skye restaurant with a Michelin star, is the grand lady of Skye dining. Claire Macdonald, who owns the spot with her husband, Godfrey, also happens to be a real Lady. She is well-known across Britain as a cookbook writer — there’s even a room in the lodge devoted to selling her products. There’s also a drawing room, where you give your dinner order to a member of the smiling servers, while sipping one of the lodge’s many single-malts and enjoying a plate of prawn puffs and salmon mousse. Later, this is the spot to have coffee and petits fours amid a notably international clientele.
In the dining room, things get even fancier. Surrounded by portraits of Macdonalds past (theirs is one of two clans — the other being the MacLeods — that have dominated Skye for centuries), every table had a fresh rose and each place setting no fewer than seven pieces of silverware (eight if you include the bread knife). The daily-changing menu, created by Lady Macdonald and the award-winning, Brazilian-born head chef, Marcello Tully, offers pairings of wine, beer and even single malts with each dish. From the carefully curated wine list, I instead chose a glass of Sancerre, and Nancy a muscadet.
Though there is perhaps a bit too much choreography involved, with all that changing of rooms, the service at Kinloch was excellent and friendly. I also noticed that despite the lavish dining room, the paint on the swinging door to the kitchen was worn, presumably from years of waiters’ handprints — a sort of badge of history, I thought.
Our menu began with a luscious amuse-bouche of roasted tomato and olive soup. A plate of scallops, lightly seared, with a warm crab mousse, followed.
The prix fixe always includes a middle course labeled “Marcello’s Special” — in our case, that meant a small piece of steamed organic salmon, presented with a trio of sauces: avocado, beet and red pepper. The salmon had a delightfully crispy skin and tender, flaky meat. I pronounced the dish restrained — “in a disciplined way,” Nancy added admiringly.
An entree of hake arrived with a garden of greens — lightly peppery nasturtium leaves (which we found in dishes all over the island), dill, mesclun — and twirls of happily mild pesto. The fish, moist and flavorful, also got a creamy bump from a dauphinoise of potatoes.
At last, we had run out of seafood options, so Nancy chose the wild pigeon breast, small disks of meat wrapped in Parma ham. Nancy preferred the cauliflower and asparagus that came with it, but I liked the pigeon’s dark, gamey flavor. Perhaps, I thought, I’d finally had enough seafood.
If the NY Times can plagerize the rest of the world. why can't I plagerize the NY Times.
(the true writer of tthis article is DAN SALTZSTEIN Published: August 11, 2010)
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