MANOR RESTAURANT
Cabarfeidh Hotel
Stornoway, Isle of Lewis
(01851 702604)
THE Bill
Dinner for three, £65.97, excluding drinks
SOME STORIES stay with you. The man who received a letter half a century after it was posted. The dog that rescued its owner from a burning building, only to die itself. Of all the tales I heard during the time I spent travelling in the Highlands and Islands for The Scotsman's Nationhood tour last month, it was one that happened nearly 90 years ago that will remain with me the longest.
The Iolaire was a navy patrol ship, formerly a luxury yacht. At around 9:30pm on 31 December 1918 she left the Kyle of Lochalsh bound for Stornoway with 284 servicemen on board. All of them were from Lewis and Harris, and all of them were First World War veterans. They had fought at the Battle of the Somme, at Ypres, and at Flanders. They had watched their comrades die - over 1,000 men from the Isle of Lewis alone lost their lives in the Great War - and now, on Hogmanay night, after four long years of war, they were returning home.
The boat was within striking distance of Stornoway harbour when she hit the rocks known as the Beasts of Holm. Just 20 yards from shore, as the harbour lights of home twinkled over the freezing water, the Iolaire sank, taking 205 lives with her and plunging an entire island into a grief so deep it tore the community's heart in two.
Lewis, arguably, has never fully recovered. In the 1920s there was a mass exodus as families left for the mainland or abroad. At a time when a post-war generation was struggling to cope without millions of young men, on a small Scottish island the effect was magnified ten-fold by a desperate tragedy that happened just outside its front door.
Lewis doesn't have the sort of tourist trade that its more accessible cousin Skye has. It's tricky to get to - an expensive flight or a long drive and a three-hour ferry journey make it one of the most remote parts of the British Isles - and then of course there's its reputation, as a stern, God-fearing island, where everything except church comes to a grinding halt on a Sunday.
But as I stood on the deck of the Ullapool to Stornoway ferry, listening to local men tell the terrible story of the Iolaire as we passed the very spot where the ship sank all those years ago, I realised that there is so much more to this island than the central-belt stereotype so often hung around its neck.
One night, then, was not enough. It gave me a taster, and a hunger to go back and explore. It was, however, long enough to discover Stornoway's Manor Restaurant. The hotel it is housed in, the Cabarfeidh, is nothing special, a homage to 1970s architecture on the edge of the main town, but the owners have worked hard to make the restaurant a destination worth making the trek for.
On the Friday night that I and my two colleagues - Kevin and Donald - were there, there were numerous locals (always a good sign) who had clearly made the pilgrimage. A quick look at the set menu, two courses for £21.99, reveals why. Much is made of local produce, dishes change almost daily, and there is a creativity to the food which is refreshingly modern, without becoming pretentious.
For my starter I went for the homemade country-style terrine with smoked goose breast, apple fig chutney and lady melba toast. This was hearty and tasty, the smokiness of the goose really filtering through the terrine, and the apple fig chutney a tasty contrast.
The boys both opted for the sautéed sea scallops with pesto lemon beurre blanc and crispy Parma ham julienne with sweet potato crisp for starter. Cooked to perfection Kevin said, the subtle flavours were wonderfully complemented by the pesto lemon beurre blanc, while the Parma ham and potatoes provided a welcome crunchiness to the dish.
One of the great treats about dining in somewhere like Stornoway is the immediacy of what is on your plate. Our waiter told us these were the first scallops of the new year, brought into the harbour by local fishermen that morning. Try finding an answer like that in George Street.
For mains, I plumped for the lamb noisettes on potato rosti, which came pan fried and smothered in a garlic rosemary essence and demi glaze served with fresh leek ragout, turnip mash and red onion marmalade. This was a delicious, meaty piece of lamb, wonderfully complemented by the marmalade and the leek. It wasn't, sadly, Lewis lamb, our waiter told us, but they prefer to use it when possible, usually in the summer.
Kev went for the medallion of Angus fillet au poivre with a whisky and green peppercorn sauce and homemade potato herb croquette. Tender and juicy, it was a huge slab of fillet and the sauce was wonderfully flavoursome, but without the gloopiness such sauces can often possess. Donald made similar overtures about his Scottish beef entrecôte steak, served with Strathdon blue cheese and port wine sherry glaze on garlic mashed potatoes - another deliciously satisfying dish.
There are many reasons to make the trek to Lewis. The stories, clearly, are just one of them.