Since Skye is nicknamed the Misty Isle, my preconceptions - having never been to Scotland, let alone a Scottish isle – of arriving to a vague mixture of rain, fog, deep-fried things, brutal landscapes and very friendly people wasn’t totally unfounded.
It wasn’t until I was sat on a boat – the Seaflower – in the harbour on the Island of Rona (population: two), sipping on a large glass of chilled white wine, stuffing my face with langoustine that had been caught that morning, with the sun beating down on my 50SPFed face, that I realised I might have been slightly misguided. Surely I was in the south of France? The Caribbean, perhaps?
When we saw a pod of seals, leaping dolphins and a humpback whale on our crossing back to Skye, I saw what a fool I’d been. Scotland is pure, utter magic.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The first place we touch down is Lean to Coffee in the village of Ashaig. An old stone building with no windows has been given a roof, heaters and dried flowers, straddling the line between completely al fresco and a terrace. They serve up excellent toasties – I try a venison and cheese that couldn’t have hit the spot more after a long drive – and fantastic pastries.
When the coffees and the hot sauce arrive I find out just how much local businesses support each other on Skye. The former comes from Birch coffee, a roastery in Portree that also has two cafes, one on Skye and another in Inverness. They sell their own slap-up cakes; one chocolate and raspberry tart I later try is made by founder Niall’s mum and is utterly delicious. The fermented, small-batch hot sauce is made by Birch’s head roaster Elliot. It’s the brightest orange imaginable and packs a wonderful, zingy punch.
The fiery sauce is also sold at Cafe Cuil – pronounced “cool” for non-gaelic folk. Owner Clare originally opened it in Hackney in late 2019. Understandably, things didn’t quite work out due to a certain plan-running epidemic, but she moved it back to Skye in the idyllic setting of Carbost.
And cool it is – so much so I feel genuinely annoyed, as a Hackney resident, not to have it on my doorstep. From an immensely cheesy beef brisket rarebit with onion jam to a fried chicken sandwich with homemade slaw and hot honey, this place utterly dominates brunch. As I sip on a “bloody mairi” made with Raasay gin and Buckfast and nibble on mac and cheese bites with truffle mayo, I think of all the hangovers I could assuage if this was my local. Luckily, Clare still does the occasional pop-up in London so I can get my Cuil fix.
In addition to sharing local products, the people of Skye know how to get the most out of the island’s abundance of rich natural produce and wildlife. The Stein Inn, AKA the oldest inn on Skye, serves up a simple seafood menu that’s delivered daily from Lochbay opposite. Before eating we sit outside and watch the sunset across the sea, making it the most picturesque pint of Guinness I’ve ever sipped. We then try lobsters, mussels, langoustines and crabs, all cooked by Chef Charlie over just a couple of hobs in a tiny kitchen.
It’s incredible what she can do with such limited space; the cooking is simple, which allows the ingredients to sing at the top of their lungs – exactly what you want when they’re this fresh. As for the pub itself, I tipsily share on my Instagram story (after several glasses of crisp piquepoul) that it was “the pubbiest pub I’ve ever had the pleasure of pubbing in”, and I stand by it. Exposed beams, low ceilings, stone walls and a crowded but comfy and cosy ambience that makes you want to curl up like a sleepy cat. A truly special place.
There’s no one who gets more out of Skye’s bounty than chef Calum Montgomery, owner of Edinbane Lodge. His menu, A Taste of Skye, is all about highlighting what he can get on his doorstep. Whether that’s hand-dived scallops from Portree just 12 miles away – huge, fat juicy things that taste nearly as good raw (I tried one fresh off the diving boat) as they do when tended to by Calum – or a white chocolate pudding infused with meadowsweet foraged in the lodge’s grounds, which gives an aromatic, almost medicinal flavour, topped with local wild brambles.
Sixteen things on offer that night, ranging from carrots to cornflowers, are grown in Edinbane’s own polytunnel and tended to by none other than Groundskeeper Willie (his actual name). It’s an exquisite menu that includes some of the most incredible things I’ve ever eaten, like a teensy nibble of beef tartare so delicate it’ll have ruined all tartare going forward, and an oyster emulsion that comes with seaweed crisps to dip into – a lesson in lip-smacking flavour. The bread can’t go unmentioned either, nor can the black garlic butter that tastes like Marmite witchcraft.
Many more ingredients are foraged locally, either by Calum or his team. The following day he shows us his spots for mushrooms, though I struggle to point out anything that isn’t either poisonous or magical. Oops.
One of the many things I found incredible about Skye is despite the island being 50 miles long – the second-largest island in Scotland – and the fact that you have to go pretty much everywhere by car, that old cliché is true: everyone knows everyone. This is obviously helped by having just one secondary school on the island, but there also seems to be a general Skye-ness that most residents take immense pride in.
It couldn’t be more different than living in a city where most people don’t even know the name of their next-door neighbour. That and the untamed natural beauty, fairy pools, wild sprawling landscapes, ancient mountains and a sky that, at certain points, broadcasts the northern lights. And if anyone there disliked me for my Englishness, they didn’t let it be known.
