It was our personal foolish fault – my sister and I arrived at Perthshire hideaway Ballintaggart Farm completely ravenous. The 90-minute drive from Edinburgh to the heather-clad hills of the Highlands had been spent poring over the lodge’s seasonal feasting menus, and scrolling via the Ballintaggart farm store’s Instagram feed, making a psychological checklist of all of the Scottish produce we had been about to devour over the approaching days. Cosy knitwear and cozy lounge units (with free waistbands) had been packed in preparation for the eat, sleep, ramble, repeat itinerary we’d been so wanting ahead to on our pre-Christmas countryside escape (actually, that is the place The Vacation could be set if it befell in Scotland, particularly within the snow-sprinkled depths of winter).
Fortuitously, our rumbling tummies didn’t have to attend lengthy – as we had been staying within the two-bedroom Steading (one among three standalone buildings that make up the farmstead) we had unique entry to Ballintaggart’s cookery-school kitchen to organize (basically, warmth up) the ready-made suppers supplied, in a MasterChef-worthy setting. The substances are all homegrown or domestically sourced, and seem as if by magic every day in your retreat’s industrial-size fridge. For our first evening, we’d opted for the farm’s three-course supper for 2, which began with home-baked sourdough slathered in whipped butter, with the holy grail of olives (we’re Perelló princesses) and Nice Glen venison salami to nibble on as you take pleasure in a few ready-mixed negronis (there’s an ice bar and recent oranges at hand for zesty garnishing). Hen-liver pâté and crab-apple jelly on rye bread adopted, earlier than the star of our personal personal cooking present – Perthshire sport venison on a mattress of smoked celeriac, roasted beetroot, and buttery kale. We had been slowly being lulled into probably the most pleasant meals coma, a lot in order that we virtually forgot to take the apple cake out of the oven; however the scent of heat butterscotch sauce – which melted scoops of accompanying malt ice-cream right into a velvety, caramelised sauce adequate to drink – quickly acquired us on our ft once more.
Our first feast full, we raided the lounge’s board-games cupboard and sunk into the sheepskin-strewn sofas for a night of hearth food-centric Scrabble. My sister sensationally managed to spell out ‘sourdough’ earlier than we referred to as it an evening. Ballintaggart is perched on a hillside above the River Tay, so there’s little to disturb your sleep, save the clucking chickens from which your breakfast eggs are gathered every morning. We’d already change into acquainted due to our beneficiant welcome hamper, delivered on arrival, stuffed to the brim with selfmade granola, bread and brownies, and blackberry-and-cinnamon jam, plus seasonal fruit. Bacon from the native butcher, butter from a close-by dairy farm, and juices from the lodge’s orchards accomplished the hyper-local, farm-fresh ensemble. The rolling valley views had been sufficient to tempt us to eat breakfast outdoors, even in late November (the bedrooms’ French doorways open immediately onto a panoramic terrace), and we mused over what century you may think you had been in whereas searching throughout the sheep-grazed fields sloping down in direction of the river, hemmed solely by stone partitions and hay bales. Within the distance, smoke rises from a few cottage chimneys, and apart from the occasional tractor trundling out and in of a barn, there are only a few traces of the fashionable world right here (Outlander fantasies unlocked).
In an try and stroll off the a number of banquets now beneath our belts (and profit from the valuable hours of daylight), we ventured into Faskally Forest, ambling alongside tree-lined trails across the shores of Loch Dunmore. Referred to as ‘Massive Tree Nation’, Perthshire’s woodlands are a pine-scented tangle of towering Douglas firs, wild cherry bushes, and centuries-old oaks, touchdown outdoorsy guests in some significantly scenic strolling territory. When you’re feeling significantly spritely (or have a set of wheels), the Queen’s View close to Allean Forest is properly well worth the climb for its dramatic outlook over Loch Tummel and the blue-tinged Glencoe Mountains. If it was adequate for Queen Victoria in 1866 (and Robert the Bruce’s spouse, Isabella), it might greater than do for us in our less-than-regal, waterproof-wearing ensemble. However, it was time to trek again, as we had been each now in a hike-induced state of hangry-ness and in determined want of our subsequent meal.
But once more, Ballintaggart delivered (fairly actually) the products to our door, and we eagerly started prepping the butternut-squash pithivier with smoked celeriac, salsa verde, roasted veggies, and dauphinoise potatoes tossed in rosemary. Having labored in one among Edinburgh’s Michelin-starred eating places, my sister felt extra at dwelling in Ballintaggart’s cookery-school set-up than I did – the burnt-orange Everhot vary cooker (solid in a carbon-negative manufacturing unit within the Cotswolds) within the neighbouring six-bedroom Farmhouse is likely to be extra up your road should you’re much less hands-on within the kitchen.
With on-site tennis courts and the Rob Roy Manner in your doorstep, there are infinite methods to proceed the eating-exercising cycle round Ballintaggart, however – in all honesty – we ended up doing extra of the previous with pit stops at Aran Bakery in Dunkeld and the lodge’s lovable farm store in Aberfeldy. Loading up a big Ballintaggart tote bag for our journey again to Edinburgh, crammed with hand-rolled oatcakes and numerous jars of selfmade jams and chutneys, we had been road-trip prepared, but reluctant to depart the help-yourself Scottish larder we’d absolutely indulged in. However, with the lodge’s ever-rotating occasions calendar of field-to-fork feasts, foraging outings, fermenting and pickling periods, mini masterclasses, and cookery programs – like us discovering every day’s dinner – it’d be laborious to have your fill of Ballintaggart.
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Due to her nomadic childhood within the Far East, Chloe Frost-Smith‘s first journey recollections are crammed with tuk-tuks, water buffalo, and paddy fields. Happiest when barefoot or on horseback, Chloe is a rustic woman at coronary heart and sometimes daydreams about ranch life within the American West. She’s presently primarily based in Edinburgh as a journey author and editor, road-tripping across the Highlands together with her devoted hound Humphrey.