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 merry detour through some sodden sheep fields. We were proper soaked by the time we pulled up, but honestly, that little mishap only ramped up the anticipation. I’d been dreaming of this Highland getaway for weeks, picturing cosy nights by the window with a dram in hand, and as we finally arrived at our charming studio-style ground-floor apartment right in the heart of Inverness, those first impressions hit like a warm hug.

Stepping inside, it was love at first sight – this bright, open-plan haven with its kitchen, dining nook, sitting area and bed all flowing together, massive windows flooding the place with light and framing cheeky glimpses of Inverness Castle’s bold silhouette across the River Ness. It felt romantic without trying too hard, perfect for two food-obsessed souls like me and Sarah. We dumped the bags and headed straight out, stomachs rumbling after that chaotic journey.

First stop was the local farmers’ market just a stroll away along the Ness – what a gem! Stalls groaning under fresh Highland venison, smoked salmon straight from the lochs, artisan cheeses that could make you weep, and piles of tatties so earthy they smelled of the glens. I grabbed a haul: plump sausages, crusty sourdough, some wild mushrooms, and a wedge of crowdie cheese that was softer than my resolve around carbs. Back at the apartment, we rolled up our sleeves for a cooking attempt. I fancied myself a master chef, sizzling up venison sausages with those mushrooms and a splash of cream from a nearby dairy. Sarah handled the sides – roasted tatties and a quick watercress salad. It was a right laugh, though I nearly set off the smoke alarm juggling the pans in that compact kitchen. Tasted cracking though, washed down with a bottle of local ale we’d nipped into a corner shop for.

Evenings were all about the pubs – Invermsaysay, you’re spoilt for choice within easy walking distance. The Castle Tavern round the corner became our local; we propped up the bar one night for fish and chips that were golden, flaky perfection, with mushy peas done just right. Another evening, we wandered to The Waterfront, where the sticky toffee pudding was so indulgent I had to loosen my belt – proper comfort food with a Highland twist, like adding whisky to the sauce. Pub grub here isn’t just fuel; it’s a flavour explosion, from hearty Cullen skink chowder at Hootananny (live ceilidh music as a bonus) to platters of haggis bonbons that had us licking our fingers.

One morning, hungover from too many drams at The Clachnaharry Inn – their steak pie is legendary, pastry like a dream – I had a quiet moment of self-reflection by the window, castle looming in the misty view. Here I was, faffing about with failed soufflés (don’t ask) and pub crawls, yet feeling utterly content. No grand adventures needed; just good eats, cracking company, and this little bolt-hole making it all taste even better. We left fatter, happier, and already plotting a return for more of that Loch Ness larder magic.