I’ll never forget the drive up to Inverness – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and then, just past Aviemore, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a scenic detour through some sodden sheep fields. We were soaked and giggling by the time we pulled up, but honestly, that little mishap only ramped up the anticipation. As we stepped into this cracking ground-floor apartment right in the heart of the Highlands capital, my heart did a little flip. It’s the sort of place that screams stylish self-catering heaven – plush king-size beds in two bedrooms, all kitted out with everything you’d need for a cosy break with mates or another couple. First impressions? Spot on. Sleek, comfy, and begging us to kick off our wellies and get stuck into some proper holiday feasting.

From the off, it was all about the food. We’d stocked up en route at a decent supermarket, dreaming of hearty Scottish suppers, but Inverness proper lured us out straight away. A quick wander along the River Ness – views to die for – led us to the local farmers’ market on the Saturday morning. Blimey, what a treat! Stalls groaning under fresh Loch Ness salmon, venison sausages, artisan cheeses that could make you weep, and heaps of local veg. I grabbed a bundle of kale, some tatties, and a wedge of crowdie cheese, feeling dead smug about my ‘local sourcing’ skills. Back at the flat, with its brilliant open-plan kitchen, we had a right laugh attempting a venison stew. I say ‘attempting’ because I overseasoned it with thyme – tasted like a forest floor, but washed down with a cheeky bottle of Highland red, it went down a treat. Self-reflection moment: I’m no MasterChef, but there’s something dead satisfying about faffing about in a holiday kitchen, isn’t there? Makes you feel like you’re living the dream, even if the gravy’s a bit lumpy.

Evenings were pub central. The Castle Tavern, just a stroll away, became our local – proper ale on tap, like their Nessie’s Brew, and platters of battered haddock that were pure gold. Crispy, flaky, with chips fat enough to dunk in tartar sauce for days. We holed up there one night after a market haul of black pudding and haggis samples, pairing it with their sticky toffee pud that had us all groaning in delight. Another fave was The Kitchen Brasserie, tucked nearby – we splashed out on wood-fired pizzas loaded with smoked salmon and wild mushrooms. Divine, and the portions kept us stuffed for hours. Mornings? Poridge oats from the market, topped with local honey and berries, whipped up in the apartment’s spotless setup. No faffing with hotel buffets; this was our domain.

One rainy afternoon, we tried our hand at baking soda bread with flour from a nearby deli – total disaster, more like a doorstop, but we slathered it with Loch-side butter and laughed it off over tea. Pub crawls filled the gaps: Leakey’s Bookshop Cafe for cake and coffee (those scones!), then Hootananny for live fiddle music and whisky chasers with cheese boards. Every meal felt like a celebration of the area’s bounty – fresh, hearty, unpretentious. By the end of our stay, bellies full and hearts content, I was already plotting a return. If you’re after a base for eating your way around Inverness and Loch Ness surrounds, this is it. Proper foodie bliss.