Scotch eggs, the aristocracy, and The House of Bruar

Just past Blair Atholl on the A9, The House of Bruar epitomises a very specific idea of Scotland, and a very specific class of the Scottish countryside experience. It’s Scotland as dreamed by the English aristocracy – think Balmoral, not Glencoe; Speyside, not the Hebrides. It’s landscape as something to be hunted, fished or shot upon rather than an awe-inspiring wilderness to be explored. It’s Prince King Charles posing in a kilt next to a stream. The 433 people who own half the rural land in Scotland presumably shop here. No one mention the Highland Clearances. 

In The House of Bruar you will find such luxury goods as a cashmere twinset; the sort of waxed jacket ‘outdoor gear’ that will only keep you dry for as long as it takes to jump out of the Land Rover and shoot a pheasant; a range of sporting tweed from the ‘specialist stalking department’. I once saw, and I am completely serious, a ‘Baby’s First Shotgun’ playset in the kids’ section.

It’s an essential stop on any Highland adventure. I get the Scotch egg, because they do very good ones in a range of flavours and they are, in the broader scale of artisanal Scotch eggs, quite reasonably priced. My son has a sausage roll and a sugar mouse. The enormous food hall showcases the best of Scottish produce, and the toilets have very fancy soap. The last time I was there a helicopter took off from what turned out to be a helipad in the car park, and set off into the Cairngorm wilderness. I assume the pilot was either a member of the royal family or Tom Cruise.

---

The House of Bruar, Pitagowan, nr Pitlochry Open daily, 9.30am-5.30pm

houseofbruar.com / @thehouseofbruar

This article is from issue one of GNAW, our new food and drink magazine dedicated to sharing stories from across Scotland’s food scene. Pick up a free copy from venues across Scotland, and follow GNAW on Instagram @gnawmag