The Misty Isle’s magic: Feasting my way around the Isle of Skye
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What happens when a food writer swaps London’s bustle for Scotland’s beauty? Lilly Subbotin discovers the unexpected culinary delights of Skye – from langoustines on a harbour boat to black garlic butter that tastes like witchcraft. 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.
![[Freshly caught langoustines served with a view – seafood doesn’t get better than this]](https://static.independent.co.uk/2025/01/22/12/isle-of-skye-food.jpg)
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?.
![[A pint of Guinness with the most picturesque sunset you’ll ever sip by at the Stein Inn]](https://static.independent.co.uk/2025/01/22/12/IMG_6006.jpg)
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.
