KING OF THE NORTH

A long awaited visit to The Albannach is a treat for the Mystery Diner

For more years t han I care to remember, I’ve wanted to get up to Lochinver to visit mainland Scotland’s most northerly Michelin-starred restaurant. Somehow, however, something always got in the way: the place was shut for renovations or their winter break, my car broke down, there was an emergency at home. It seemed like fate.

I’d heard so much about Colin Craig’s culinary pyrotechnics that with each passing year the oversight became more glaring. Here was a chef who hadn’t sought fame, who had only ended up in Wester Ross after stints in Scourie and Shetland, because he found a big house he could afford. Yet despite operating a small restaurant with rooms in an out-of-theway street in a small provincial Scottish town, Images (clockwise from top left): The Albannach; seafood is a speciality; the dining room; food worth travelling for. the judges from Michelin had singled him out.

Regular readers may remember that we ran a feature on The Albannach in which Glaswegian Colin, a former musician who loves traditional ceilidh music, and partner Lesley explained their culinary philosophy and supplied some recipes, which further whetted my appetite.

So at the beginning of June, I finally got enough time to make my way up to Lochinver. Once again it seemed as if I may be fated to miss out as the town is on the North Coast 500 route. Given that The Albannach only opens from Thursday to Sunday – Colin and Lesley have opened a gastropub, the Caberfeidh, in Lochinver and divide their time between the two – they are now booked so far ahead that even long-term regulars are having to put their

towel on this particular deckchair months ahead of time. We, however, managed to get a midweek room at the inn (this is not a hotel review, but for the record it was huge, comfortable and is highly recommended).

The Albannach is hidden away down a side street, although it has views out over the sea loch. The outside of this Victorian pile is best described as shabby chic, but once inside the place exudes the comfort of age. Everything is wood and dark walls that make the rooms feel smaller but more intimate. This is not grand salon dining in a Georgian mansion or medieval castle; it’s far more couthie and comfortable than that, and all the better for it.

Our meal started in the conservatory where we assembled with all the other guests. Like the now sadly defunct Summer Isles, all guests eat at the same time and eat the same thing; there’s no menu as such, just a request for information on any allergies. Not that you’re left in the dark: the courses are listed on a hand-written chalkboard that you can read while the amuses bouche are passed around. This quartet of sumptuous nibbles – quails eggs with caviar and blinis, prawns, a chunk of roast duck breast, and oysters – made sure we were ready for the feast to come.

We started with crab cakes that arrived with an avocado and chilli sauce, which proved something of a surprise since the dish wasn’t on the menu we’d looked at before dinner. It was, if I’m honest, a slightly prosaic beginning that didn’t live up to the pre-match canapes, but it was too early to make a firm judgement.

Thankfully, the next course – which turned out to be the best thing we ate – was a triumph. It was listed simply as langoustines and ginger but that didn’t really do it justice. A trio of langoustines was accompanied by a glorious fresh, gingery soup that brought the accompaniment of sliced al dente vegetables to life. This was manifestly Michelin-quality cooking.

From there the courses came thick and fast. Next up was a local chanterelle and white wine risotto that was a little too al dente for my taste, followed a dish of roast hill-fed Highland hogget that was spot-on. I think that hogget (a sheep in the 9-18 months after it is lamb but before it’s mutton), is one of the most underrated meats, and cooked with braised roots, lentils, cabbage and a dark, rich red wine and blackcurrant sauce, this dish was the perfect antidote to the seasonal downpour outside.

We rounded off with a cheese course followed by a gorgeous caramelised pear tart with crisp and salt caramel ice cream, then coffee and petit fours. The visit has been a long time coming, but then you know what they say about a pleasure denied being a pleasure doubled...

‘This is not grand salon dining, it's far more couthie and comfortable, and all the better for it’