Showing posts with label skye red. Show all posts
Showing posts with label skye red. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

The Railroad to the Isles

As I mentioned in my previous post, Mrs V and I had planned to climb Ben Nevis the day after completing the West Highland Way. That plan had to be put to one side as my feet were something of a state, and also the weather decided not to cooperate. Minor interesting fact, there is apparently a gale at the summit of Ben Nevis every three days on average! Thankfully, we had a back up plan, a day trip to Mallaig.

I have only ever been to Mallaig a handful of times, usually as an alternative to the Kyle of Lochalsh way to Skye when heading home to Uist. I have a lingering memory of the greatest steak sandwich in all of human civilisation being available from a van on the quayside (shocking that food trucks existed before the urbanites got the notion in their heads, eh?). There were no juliennes of this, coulis of that, or salsas of the other, just perfectly cooked steak between two pieces of buttered bread, delightful.

Bear in mind when I say this that Scotland is one of the most beautiful places on earth, yes I am biased I know, but the railway line from Fort William to Mallaig is one of the most stunning I have travelled. Oh, and we took the steam train.


Although we had this as a back up plan, we hadn't bought tickets for the train, so we took our chances and joined the queue on the platform. Happily we managed to snag the last pair of first class seats, and when the time came duly took our seats in the 6 seater carriage. Our fellow travellers for the trip were an English mother and daughter, and a Swedish couple. The Swedes were over mainly to check on a cask of whisky they owned at a distillery, and doing a few trips to other distilleries. Naturally with a shared interest in the things that can be done with malted barley, we got to chatting. The English folks were very much looking forward to crossing the Glenfinnan Viaduct as they were huge fans of Harry Potter.


After a few hours of trundling through the Highlands, with steam billowing alongside the carriages, we pulled into Mallaig itself. With just a couple of hours to wander and grab something to eat, Mrs V and I made a bee line for the Chlachain Inn on account of there being a 10% discount on food in a brochure on the train. Stepping into the public bar my heart almost leapt for joy, not only were there handpulls, but the beer was from the Isle of Skye Brewery. I went straight for the Skye Red, a beer I had thoroughly enjoyed in 2014. In many ways it reminds me of O'Hara's Red, but with the added benefit of being cask conditioned.


With time ticking away, thoughts turned to food, and being in Mallaig means one thing, and one thing only, seafood, plucked from the cold waters of the Scottish west coast. While trying to decide on a main course, Mrs V decided to break out of her usual culinary safe house and try haggis. Mrs V is not a big fan of offal in general, much to my chagrin sometimes, so I was understandably rather shocked when she ordered the tempura battered haggis with a peppercorn brandy sauce. I was even more surprised, and somewhat delighted, when she wondered aloud where haggis had been all her life, she loved it, absolutely loved it, a fact further confirmed a couple of weeks later in Glasgow when we had haggis pakora in an Indian restaurant. When it came to main courses, Mrs V took the seafood platter, which featured a veritable raft of locally caught fish and crustacea, while I went for langoustine and chips....


Drenched in a garlic and herb butter, by the time I got through all 6 of the langoustine and most of the chips, the bottom of the bowl was filled with garlicy, butter, mushy chips that were decadent in the extreme. If we didn't have to head back to the train station, I could happily have had another serving. Fresh seafood, landed that morning on the quayside just yards from the front door simply cannot be matched. That fact may explain why I rarely eat shellfish when I am not at the coast.


The train back to Fort William seemed to go much quicker than the ride out, again we were sat with our Swedish and English friends, and this time we availed ourselves of the bar in the restaurant car with cans of McEwans, a step down from the Skye Red for sure, but still a perfectly good beer, a phrase I once thought I would never say.

If you ever find yourself in the West Highlands, and I thoroughly recommend you go, a trip to Mallaig on the train is something well worth the money, and when there make sure to stop in the Chlachain Inn. Whether just for a pint, the Skye Red was in fine form and excellent both sparkled and unsparkled, yes I am that sad that I asked for a half pint of unsparkled to see the difference and unsparkled didn't shine next to sparkled, or for a meal. It was superb.


Friday, August 8, 2014

Westering Home...

Going home, in the most literal sense, is a path well travelled. Whether coming from Inverness, Birmingham, Prague, or Charlottesville, all roads lead to Uig. From Uig the ferry sails to Lochmaddy, and from there a car to Benbecula. Inevitably there is about an hour and a half of time killing to be done in Uig, and usually said time is killed at the Pub At The Pier, or as it is known these days, the Bakur Bar.


The last time I had darkened the door of this particular building was when it was called the Pub At The Pier, and I spent time chatting with an American tourist, from Joshua Tree, playing pool, and drinking something or other. This time I walked in, saw hand pulls bearing the logo of nearby Skye Brewery, and did something that happens rather infrequently, ordered an IPA, hopped with Sorachi Ace no less. A few mouthfuls later, I ordered another, delicious it was. It was actually my first draft beer since arriving in Scotland (these posts are in not particular order) and thus began my three week reverie of cask ale.


Not wanting to get stuck in a rut, I followed pint 2 of IPA with Skye Red. Once upon a time known as Red Cuillin, it was everything I expected from a red ale, plenty of sweet malt juiciness, toffee, caramel, some light cocoa, with just enough spicy hops to make it interesting...by now the ferry was turning in the bay, ready to let people off before loading those of us heading west.


In days of yore you could always tell the locals from the tourists on the ferry. Tourists went to the observation deck to bird watch, or attempt to see marine wildlife, while the locals generally headed for the bar. CalMac had renovated the ferry since last I sailed on it, so I got right royally lost, where the hell was the bar? Turns out that the bar was now part of the general gift shop area, and only had bottled beer, one of which was Skye Black, formerly Black Cuillin. Skye Black is a wonderfully smooth porter, brewed with honey and oatmeal, yum, yum, yum...


After a few days on Uist, we headed back east, stopping in the brewery shop to pick up some bottles, and some swag. Other than the Black and the Red, I bought a couple of bottles of Hebridean Gold, a pale ale brewed with porridge oats, giving it a delightfully creamy mouthfeel, soft honeyed sweetness, and a drinkability that could easily get a chap in trouble.

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