Many moons ago, the siren call of the Great Glen was proving just too difficult to ignore – and so a weekend in Fort William beckoned.
The beauty of Loch Linnhe is undeniably breathtaking and the weather forecast set fair.
Having a string of meetings across Scotland and the prospect of a five-hour drive were mere irritants for the relish that lay ahead.
I’d warned the hotel at the time (I won’t name it to spare its blushes) that I was travelling a long way and might be late but they assured me that there would be dinner available despite the kitchen planning to close at 9pm. You can see where this is going…
I arrived at 9.05pm – a time that will forever be etched on my brain – and, despite keeping the hotel updated of my progress along the route, faced a brusque and clearly unfriendly ‘welcome’.
Even before checking in I asked about dinner. “The kitchen is closed, the chef has left.”
And so I faced the prospect of the most miserable and pathetic “cold platter” that man could muster – and this in a relatively smart hotel.
I despaired of our inability to make people – especially foreign travellers to our shores – feel wanted and loved. Can there be any better place on the planet to visit than Scotland when the weather is benevolent and the people kind?
I’ve been back to Fort William myriad times since and always have the same sense of trepidation about what reception I will face.
Forgive me then, Nevis Bank Hotel, for not expecting much.
Having been checked in and unpacked, I was ravenous.
The hotel’s own restaurant – Browns – has something of a reputation and it meant not having to wander out in that all-encompassing drizzle that thrashed at the window.
Truth be told, the décor and layout isn’t that much to look at but the menu offered far more appeal.
What blew me away was my bête noir – the service. Perhaps, at last, we are as a nation beginning to learn that we have to work hard to keep our visitors happy.
The guys and girls at Browns were absolutely on-point. I’ve eaten at some pretty swanky restaurants, household names where the chefs regularly flaunt their talents on TV or even have their own documentaries. The serving staff at Browns matched each and every one of those swanky jaunts.
If I’ve ever left any restaurant more satisfied than the efficient and cheerful experience I received at Browns then I can’t remember it.
Still, I’m getting ahead of myself…
I was whisked away to have a drink as soon as I popped my head in the restaurant, with the waiting staff already aware of me before I’d uttered a word. Clever stuff that makes you feel wanted.
I’d managed a few gulps of a pint of bitter and was soon on my way to prepare for the feast ahead.
The restaurant, while full, was a tad too quiet and too many whispered tones. I suspect that was down to the fact we had a league of nations in terms of visitors; Japanese, Chinese, Americans, Europeans from all corners. But the food was fabulous.
Pan seared scallops on crispy pork belly served with a caramelised apple and maple syrup puree was the first plate to land in front of me with beautiful efficiency and plenty of charm to ensure all was okay. Crispy belly pork can be a thing of beauty or a wretched slop of fat. This was absolutely sumptuous.
It melted with enough crisp to make it bite alongside beautifully sweet scallops and a tangy puree. I was gleeful. That puree was amazing on its own; a joyous creation. It couldn’t last, could it?
I love the thought of fish and try and try, honestly I do, but sometimes I just think it’s a lot of fuss, and bones, about nothing.
But I have a weakness for sea bass. It could be nothing else – grilled fillets on baby potatoes, fine beans and sweet chorizo, topped with crisp fired ginger chilli and spring onions.
The sea bass was a little overpowered by the chorizo but not enough to make it a disappointment, or enough to mention when the waiting staff glided in to check if all was okay… there was enough heat and spice with the ginger and chilli to bring the whole dish together and give it a little kick.
As I laboured over the potential of squeezing in a dessert, I ear-wigged the young front of house team divesting advice about everything from the best restaurants to eat on Skye, to the next day’s weather forecast, dealing with queries over different currencies and even springing into action to return a forgotten cardigan; all of it flourished with a smile.
Having relaxed with a couple of glasses of house wine, there could be no escaping the home-made ice cream: rhubarb and custard, pistachio and blackcurrant. I had two of the rhubarb and one of the pistachio and felt a regression to my childhood days. Simply brilliant.
The quality of food would have helped eradicate some of the bad feeling about my previous visits to Fort William but it was the level of attention and care by the staff that restored my faith in our ability to compete, and beat, some of the best service hotels anywhere in the UK can offer.
And that can only be a good thing if we want to continue to attract guests and their tourist dollars from home and abroad.