With a reputation that precedes it, The Three Chimneys is lauded as one of the best restaurants on the Isle of Skye. Positioned in an idyllic spot with sweeping views of Loch Dunvegan, the setting offers reinforcement of the restaurant's food provenance positioning under head chef Scott Davies.
The rustic stone exterior, a former crofter’s cottage is surrounded by the raw beauty of the Skye landscape. It creates a striking contrast to the clean and elegant contemporary interior. The restaurant is small, as you’d expect from a converted croft building, but this scale was made more apparent when the nearby table departed, allowing us to notice that music was actually playing.
Service was courteous and friendly as you’d hope but lacked polish - the anticipation and refinement I would expect from a destination restaurant of this standing and price point. My butter knife lingered till the end of service despite the bread having been demolished quite some time earlier. I ended up with butter on my sleeve as a result - my fault of course but with not much room to negotiate a stream of plates on a relatively small table, it would have helped matters if it had been removed. The dark wood table was littered with crumbs from the crusty bread but no effort was made to hide our indiscretions and freshen the setting over the course of service. It sounds incredibly churlish to mention these points (there are others) but they are the practical basics of hospitality and contribute to the feeling of being looked after. Attention to detail makes a difference and restaurants at much lower price points are able to manage this.
The menu itself suffered from the affectation that many fine dining restaurants succumb to in titling the dish and then assembling a selection of seemingly random words beneath the title. Grain. Lovage. Meadowsweet. Perhaps there is intentionality and it's designed to add theatre and intrigue. It doesn't. Perhaps it sets the stage for service staff to interact? But then it only succeeds if your server is able to introduce or explain the dishes with an authority born of experience. Our server had not tried any of the dishes which is a failure of the restaurant.
We ordered from the a la carte menu - the only option presented on the Sunday we visited. I selected crab, langoustine and venison but was torn between the monkfish and venison. The dessert choices failed to inspire on paper, possibly due to a paucity of description but they comprised a tart, white chocolate mousse and cheese board. On ordering, it was with great fanfare that our server declared that my crab was an excellent choice having been sourced from the waters of the adjacent Loch (Dunvegan) that morning. A 'food mile' measurement that we agreed could best be expressed in percentages of a mile. Our server was young and very earnest and had the conversation continued, I all but expected him to have disappeared in pursuit of a tape measure and the precise answer.
When the first course arrived (the aforementioned crab with the short commute) it was presented as a yoghurt bisque with radish and ginger. It was a novel pairing, very accomplished cooking and beautifully plated. It met all expectations of freshness and taste. But it was the size of an amuse bouche. Without exaggeration, it barely constituted much more than a forkful of food and a not particularly generous one at that. The langoustine dish, equally accomplished and flavoursome, equally small. Deconstructing the dish did not reveal the presence of an entire langoustine.
Fearing my venison main would be assembled with tweezers and presented as gossamer thin slices, I added salad and potato to my main course - supplements at £6 each. This course was more appropriately scaled and again, beautifully cooked. It was presented with Jerusalem artichoke dumplings, haunch faggot and birch leaf consommé. The salad was fresh and well dressed which served to cut the richness of the venison. The potato arrived as a decorous oblong of deep fried starch. Sadly, this ode to Hasselbacken was an oily miss having been left to sit too long and oozing oil, fell short of its potential. I would have actually left it had I not been so hungry. The options for a cheeky anything on the way home are non-existent given how remote Carbost is.
Our desserts arrived and the tart immediately evoked comparison to South African Melktert (Milk Tart). It was excellent and the kitchen broke from script and served a portion that by comparison to the earlier courses could be described as wildly generous and in keeping with South African serving traditions. There is no such thing as too large a slice. The cheese course also looked good but all the cheeses were familiar and I was glad of my choice.
I fully appreciate that fine dining is constitutionally different to hearty bistro cooking and there is tremendous range across the continuum of restaurants that categorise themselves as such. But within this area of culinary experience, it is possible to find balance and leave guests feeling fed and looked after. 'Leave them wanting more' may hold sway in certain circles but in hospitality, sending diners home hungry is counter productive. I can't fault the cooking at the Three Chimneys, other than the potato accompaniment and the portioning. Culinary skill and quality ingredients shone through. But there is a feeling of generosity and care in the best dining experiences that is intangible and often the sum of a number of small elements which are felt when absent.
I can understand the price of ingredients limiting the extent to which they're used in restaurants that are further afield but when the product is extracted within sight of the restaurant, you'd expect more generous portioning. Showcasing exceptional local produce is as much about celebrating its quality as it is about ensuring guests have enough to truly appreciate it.
At £271 excluding the optional service charge means dinner equates to £150 per head. We had a single glass of wine at the table. At this price point, it invites comparison to some exceptional restaurants and on this basis, fell short of the mark. Would I go back? Possibly but I wouldn't make it my destination.