It Mussels Be Love: Romantic Foods for Getting Fresh

Let me preface this article with an apology for the raunchy reference above. Allow me, also, to declare at the outset my desire to get us both through this without any mention of the associated aphrodisiac effects of oysters. Except for that mention, just then. However, this is a Valentine’s issue and, as such, some mention of smoochery must be made.

“No romance please, we’re Scottish!” you cry. And in many ways you’re quite right. But just because hugging only came to Scotland in the late nineties – and an unsolicited attempt might still garner you a chibbing in the Gorbals – does not mean that we ought not to participate in the farce for fun. Particularly, dear reader, when the food is as good as this. So, are you sitting comfortably? Snuggled with a loved one? Good. Then I’ll begin.

There are restaurants that you always imagine you’ll visit some day. You pass them often, in transit, en route to elsewhere. You promise yourself that you will head out there some time, with someone you love (or in the very least ‘dig’), because it’s a place that should be saved, until it can be shared. Loch Fyne Oyster Bar, ensconced as it is between hills that draw the breath from you, and the ethereal dark waters of Loch Fyne, is one of those places.

I am accompanied on this visit, in the name of research, by my good friend Beard. Beard’s slightness of frame belies an appetite that would make an elephant blush. His enthusiasm for food, quite legendary in these parts, almost outstrips my own. A good man to take to lunch, is Beard. The drive, to the soundtrack of Gram Parsons, has been pleasant. But the day is baltic and dreich and the warmth as we enter, of staff and of stove fires, dotted at intervals, is most welcome.

The immediate impression is one of homeliness, of a little house by the sea. All whitewashed walls, bleached wood and art, depicting sea life and fat, happy people eating oysters. An interior that accomplishes a nod to the nautical theme, without appearing contrived, is a feat in itself. The setting goes a long way to lending the décor this air of authenticity. How could it not, when every window offers views of the loch which plays host to all of the oysters, mussels, salmon and crabs, among others, that land on your plate? Don’t fret about that though, it looks as though they had an awfully good life.

With the enthusiasm of children in a fine sweets emporium, Beard and I select an oyster in every available flavour (£1.50-1.75 each). Oysters with garlic breadcrumbs, oysters baked with bacon, blue cheese and spinach and oysters on ice, with shallot vinegar and Tabasco and with chilli and coriander dressing. Duly delivered, they look almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

“Get your superlatives out”, instructs Beard. The saucepot. And, since by this point I’ve sampled the wine, I will. The warmed oysters are rich and brim with flavour; on ice the flavours of the Tabasco, shallot and chilli are clean and sharp. All taste ridiculously fresh. As does the smoked salmon fillet with wasabi and soy (£7.95), cut so perfectly it just falls apart in your mouth. Bliss.

By this point we are thoroughly enjoying ourselves and our enthusiasm for ordering threatens to get out of hand. Be aware of this, dear reader, if you visit. The place ain’t cheap. We rein ourselves in a little and order mussels mariniere (£5.50) which arrives in a steaming pot, beautifully presented. The mussels themselves are plump and tasty, the mariniere sauce is creamy, garlicky, but not too rich. Finally, a shared crab, salmon and herb fishcake is crumbly and surprisingly light. The accompanying Arran mustard mayonnaise dip is tangy and a perfect compliment to the crumbliness.

Fat and happy, we round things off with a pot of coffee in front of the fire. A sleepy contentedness descends. Before making the long drive back, might I recommend a constitutional? Behind the restaurant are a couple of short walks, allowing you to take in the views of the surrounding hills and perhaps indulge in some hand-holding and dreamy eye gazing, brought on by the oysters. There is even a two-story tree house, where you might sit, legs swinging, and contemplate the nature of things in companionable silence.

You can recreate the Loch Fyne effect at home with smoked salmon, mussels and some delectable sweet treats purchased from the shop. As mentioned, it’s not a place that’s terribly friendly on the wallet. But if you can’t at Valentine’s, when can you? Skinflints might want to hold out for the food fair on 9 and 10 May, when there will be a farmers market on the shore selling Loch Fyne produce, as well as venison, cheeses, cakes and Fyne Ales. Admission is free.

Well, we got through it. And I only mentioned aphrodisiacs once. And that time, just then. Put simply, if Loch Fyne doesn’t get you in the mood for smoochery, I’ll eat my hat. Dipped in Arran mustard mayonnaise.