Day 230 - A spot of lunch

With all this writing and working we've been doing since we've been in Skye, we're risking losing all the muscle strength we've gained from our previous weeks of walking. It's a good thing that going anywhere from the cottage requires a walk down hill...and, more important, a walk back up on our return. That climb seems to be all the cardio one needs for a day.

So, it was for purely health reasons that we decided to take a walk for lunch. Our goal had been to try the small cafe that sits at the bottom of the hill from us. However, for some reason, they must see us coming because every time we walk by it's closed. Our neighbours last week, Claire and Dave, managed to find it open one day and said they had an enjoyable lunch, so we keep trying.

The Gasta at Armadale Castle

There are not a lot of walkable dining choices in the area, but we thought the cafe at Armadale Castle about a mile down the road might be a good spot to try, so we headed there. The cafe, called Gasta, is housed within a beautifully restored building that was once the stables. It dates from the 1820s. They specialize in locally sourced food. We enjoyed a lovely homemade sweet potato, apple and coriander soup with savoury scones, and the weather was still nice enough for us to enjoy it out on the tranquil patio to the back of the restaurant.

This is probably a good time to bring up Scottish food. It doesn't have a glowing reputation, and that's probably down to the Scots themselves and their sense of humour about haggis. But these are the same people that take water and barley and create what many believe to be the greatest whisky on the planet. The common thread of Scottish cuisine is that it's food and drink primarily devised simply. It's unpretentious. I grew up absolutely LOVING my grandma's shortbread. Leave it to the Scots to be able to take three simple ingredients -- butter, sugar and flour -- and devise something that can become addictive. (And yet, like a fried egg, there are people who can mess up even the seemingly simplest of foods.) But shortbread is the one must-have in our house at Christmas ... just the smell of it coming out of the oven is enough to invoke the spirit of the season within me.

Let's talk a bit about haggis ... which despite what the Scots will try to tell you, is not an animal unto itself and therefore you should not accept their offer to go haggis hunting with them. Haggis is actually Scotland's national dish -- for real. You can't attend a Burns Supper without at least one Bagpiper piping it into the room as if you are about it eat the last swan rather than the ugly duckling. And it just may be one of the ugliest foods on the planet, and still it is revered. If you don't know what it is, here goes: take all those bits of a sheep you're not quite sure what to do with -- heart, lungs, liver -- mix it with oatmeal (cause you don't eat enough of that here for breakfast) and suet, toss in some onion and spices to make you think you're eating something else and some broth so it won't be so dry that you can't swallow it. Then look back at the slaughter table and you'll see the sheep's stomach still sitting there all lonely and wondering why it's not been used yet. Stuff your mixture into that until it's near bursting. Tie off the ends in a pretty bow. Then boil the hell out of it ... after all, it is a pudding. Slice into nice sausage patty-like pieces and serve with turnips (neeps) and potatoes (tatties) ... oh, and whisky. Now you understand why they make such good whisky.

I mean, you'd think seeing that recipe you would fully understand why the Scots have a reputation for being cheap frugal. In reality, haggis is quite tasty ... a cross between stuffing and sausage. And today, they use a synthetic bag to stuff the offal in because, I guess, lungs, hearts and livers are okay, but the stomach is, well, offal.

But to show you that it's not all bad, let's delve a little deeper into grandma's recipe book:

• Black pudding: It's everywhere -- beneath my scallops the other night, as an extra layer on a sandwich, next to your eggs at breakfast. If you don't know what it is, it's the slightly richer brother of haggis. It mixes pork and beef fat with oats or barley, and then, so as not to waste a single drop, blood is added. It's that last ingredient that gives its distinctive, unmissable colour. Blood has to be used up right away when slaughtering, so you won't find this in any urban cookbooks because city dwellers don't usually have an abattoir on the premises.
• White pudding: If you really can't stomach the blood in the above, just add more suet. Your heart will thank you ... just before it stops. Of course, I have a theory that the oats are added to absorb the bad cholesterol so you don't.
• Cullen Skink (or as our new friend Dave calls it, Killin' Skunk): After the previous ones, this recipe is going to sound downright worthy of a Michelin star. It's a soup made with smoked haddock, potatoes and onions. Like a hearty New England Chowder, only with a bit more oomph.
• Clapshot: No, it is not a medical injection for harbour visiting sailors. Rather it is a mixture of the aforementioned "neeps" and "tatties" combined with chives, butter or dripping, salt and pepper. (This meal is getting better and better!)
• Tablet: Finally, dessert! Take sugar, condensed milk and butter, and cooked together until crystalized. Comes in a variety of flavours, including whisky, and I assume haggis.
• Battered/Deep-fried Mars Bar: Yes, you have reached gastronomic heaven. Although I can't verify this as fact, I'm guessing the Scots saw this concoction by an American -- who came to England and created the Mars Bar as we know it -- as some form of culinary English/American invasion into Scotland. In retaliation, the Scots decided to try decimating it with the old boiling-oil treatment so effective in driving off the enemy from castle walls. Someone cleaning up got it all over their hands, and voila, a star is born. It may even have saved the fish and chip industry. 

I shall leave you there. I know you're racing to book a plane ticket and book dinner reservations. But before I go, I should put all jest aside and advise you that down the road a few miles of our cottage is Kinloch Lodge which held a Michelin Star for the previous seven years. And elsewhere on the island, the Loch Bay restaurant earned its first star this year. That's two deserving restaurants on an island of 10,000 people (note: Toronto doesn't have any Michelin Star restaurants). 

They both must make one mean haggis.