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Communal or dinner-party dining is not for everyone, but staying in an opulent, whisky-themed Highland pile overlooking the North Sea the Mystery Diner thoroughly enjoyed his evening at Glenmorangie House
Ikept hearing whispers of the revolution that turned Glenmorangie House into a ‘sensory playground’. So, being a curious soul it was only a matter of time before I headed north to investigate.
The house belongs to the eponymous distillery, which is seven miles away at Tain. For years it was used as accommodation for the distillery’s guests, staff and visiting VIPs, but since the acquisition of Glenmorangie by French luxury behemoth LVMH, this substantial artsand-crafts style house has been turned into a spectacularly opulent nine-bedroomed hotel (six in the main house, three in the cottage in the large walled garden).
Happily for its owners, it’s right on the cliffs, with views straight out over the North Sea, and lies halfway between the Dornoch and Cromarty Firths. As one of the most upscale hotels on the North Coast 500, it is in continual demand.
To reflect that popularity and the aesthetic sensibilities of its new owners, the place has had a comprehensive overhaul aimed at bringing it bang up to date. The most eye-catching manifestation of that updating is the decor, which went from being a conventional Highlands country house hotel – mildly fusty, with pictures of Clan Chiefs and liberal splashes of tartan amid a sea of magnolia walls – to gloriously and luxuriously contemporary. Russell Sage Studio, the on trend interior designer who oversaw the jaw-dropping metamorphosis of the Fife Arms in Braemar, did the honours. The result is a root-andbranch transformation to what they describe as a ‘technicolour aesthetic’. This consists of bold colours and even bolder wallpapers from cutting-edge designers like Timorous Beasties and with nods to old favourites like Gustav Klimt and the pre-Raphaelites.
The rooms all have subtle and not-so-subtle allusions to Glenmorangie’s whisky heritage. It could be a dining table shot through with copper, a woodburning stove shaped like a copper still, or the golden wallpaper in the morning room which references the surrounding fields of ripening barley. There are also some amusingly random flourishes, such as authentic Orkney chairs, lightshades in the shape of molten orbs, and a technicolour giraffe statue in my enormous bedroom which was supposed to represent stills ‘as tall as giraffes’. Still, a little battiness is a good thing, and the overall result
was gaudy and faux-cluttered yet entertainingly impressive.
This is an area with much to see and do. There are fantastic golf courses at Dornoch, Portmahomack and all along the coast, some stellar fishing and field sports aplenty, plus lovely beaches and great walks. The splendour of Dunrobin Castle is on hand, Anta’s Highlands HQ is two miles away, and the nearby NiggCromarty ferry gives easy access to the Black Isle. There’s also a path down to the beach, croquet in the walled garden, clay pigeons and distillery visits.
But what of the food, I hear you scream? The first thing to bear in mind are that, despite the presence of some superb drams should the spirit take you, the food at this two-rosette establishment is not whisky-themed.
Secondly, and more importantly, food is eaten communally at one big table and all guests eat the same four courses together.
This horrifies many people, but I actually quite like it, and if your grand tour of the north is not going well then a dinner party where you’re not forced to speak to your travelling companion might be a godsend. We were not in that position, but it was still interesting to meet the other guests, who were mainly a lively crew of Americans in the whisky industry.
We all warmed up with a variation on an Old-Fashioned cocktail and canapes in the morning room before heading in to dinner in the sumptuous dining room. Once there, the courses came thick and fast. Our excellent first course of honey-glazed duck breast with celeriac, beetroot and candied walnuts was
“Food is eaten communally at one table. All guests eat the same dishes
the opening salvo in what turned out to be a nicely judged four-course meal. Next up was a baked fillet of halibut with samphire, pickled clams and shellfish velouté, which was a nice contrast and showed the kitchen’s versatility.
One of Glenmorangie’s refrains is the locality and seasonality of its ingredients (it’s not just talk either, they have spent a small fortune on a scheme to reintroduce oysters to the Dornoch Firth). With that in mind, our next course was a thick and deliciously tender slab of Aberdeen Angus from a neighbouring farm, which came with a herb purée, broccoli and wild garlic, with a red wine and rosemary jus. Simple but flawlessly produced, it was without a doubt the highlight of the meal.
So far so traditional, but we finished with a more aesthetically driven dish, a white chocolate and vanilla panna cotta with a roast hazelnut crumb, with rhubarb and a really interesting barley ice cream. It certainly wasn’t the best dish, but it was probably the most interesting.
We wound up with a visit from chef John Wilson, who arrived at Glenmorangie via the Lime Tree in Fort William. He came out of the kitchen to answer questions, and after chatting briefly was given a round of applause before we went to the drawing room for whiskies. The plaudits were well-deserved. This meal may have been more low key than the decor of Glenmorangie House, but it hit the same high notes.