HOLDING a wooden fish box between them, two lads stood at the kitchen door. “Do you want some fish?” they asked me, grinning from ear to ear. “They’re fresh.”

The box was full of beautiful mackerel, round fish with deeply forked tails, their smooth, iridescent green and blue skins and bright eyes, shimmering in the summer sunshine. Murchadh (Gaelic for Murdo, meaning a seaman or mariner) and his pal had been fishing off the rocks at Neist Point. This is where the most westerly point of the Isle of Skye plunges into the sea and where the lighthouse shines its winking light to warn ships of the dangers of some of the highest cliffs in Europe, jagged rocks and the sweep of Moonen Bay, as they navigate their way through The Minch.

Neist Point is as far as you can drive beyond The Three Chimneys, along the single-track road that leads to the restaurant. As with all of Stevenson’s lighthouses, we can wonder at how on earth they succeeded in building them in the most precarious places around Scottish shores. But build them they did, against all odds and the elements. These days, the lights are all electronically controlled and the foghorns are silent, but when we first moved to Colbost from Croydon, the languorous, low boom of the foghorn could be heard from our bedroom, echoing through the still air on a winter’s night.

As soon as weather permitted, we went to visit the lighthouse with the children. The lighthouse keeper at the time was also called Murdo, a lovely, genial man with a big smile. He was an excellent carpet-layer during his off-duty days and fitted the new runner to our tiny staircase which led upstairs to the rooms above the restaurant, our family home for over 20 years.

By the 1980s, families no longer lived in the cottages built alongside the lighthouse, but they had done so in the recent past. The keepers always meticulously maintained the whole property, including the long winding pathway and steps that are the only access to the lighthouse from the top of the cliffs, where the road ends. It is quite a treacherous walkway, particularly in bad weather when the wind is high.

Murdo was welcoming and happy to take us all the way up the spiralling staircase to the big glass lamp, a wonderful construction, with its reflective mirrors and lenses all beyond comprehension to the layman and certainly to us. But the beauty of the truly panoramic view and the sense of distance all around, were palpable. It was obvious that the children were in awe of the occasion and the sense of place. I hoped they would never forget that moment with Murdo at the top of the lighthouse, looking far out to sea and beyond to never-never-land. Those rocks are a favourite place for chefs and waiters to go on a day off, to fish for saithe for their tea, or to spot a sea eagle, or a basking shark. Dolphins, porpoises and whales migrate through the Minch, so there is often an opportunity for a spot of whale-watching too. The cliffs are home to hundreds of seabirds which wheel and cry around their nesting sites, diving into the deep for fish. Moonen Bay and the rocky inlets around the nose of Neist Point are popular spots for local fishermen to drop long lines of prawn and lobster creels. They know these waters like the backs of their swarthy hands, with special places noted by their elders and passed down father-to-son.

But let’s go back to those lads at the kitchen door hoping that I would buy their fish for the restaurant. I was torn. What a prize catch, but how would I cope with gutting and filleting so many and would they sell? I knew they would have to be sold fresh, as mackerel deteriorate quickly. But in those days, I had very little help and every day’s timetable of preparation was packed. In the end (and to save face) I bought just a few and to this day, I regret not being able to take advantage of this local bounty brought to my door by the lads so eager to earn some pocket money during their school holidays. More than this, with the advent of greater experience gleaned from a few more years at the stoves, I realise I would have sold them easily, if dished-up in the following simple, but appetising way and sold as a dish-of-the-day to diners keen to be served a true taste of Skye.

Mealie mackerel with rhubarb, orange and ginger sauce

In tribute to Murchadh, Murdo and all mariners, I urge you to buy some fresh mackerel fillets this summer and make a great supper dish. An oily fish, mackerel is inexpensive, rich in flavour and very good for you. Cook it lightly, in some hot rapeseed oil, pressed skin-side down for three minutes in a frying pan or griddle. Add a knob of butter when you turn it over to cook on the flesh side for no more than two minutes, depending on the size and thickness of the fillets. Add a splash of orange or lemon juice before serving.

Traditionally, fillets would have been dipped in oatmeal or flour before frying. Mackerel is a "round" fish, with no scales and is perfect for baking or roasting whole, its gutted cavity filled with lemon and fresh herbs. You can barbecue the whole fish or the fillets, very successfully too. Mackerel has always been smoked to preserve it in Scotland. Smoked fillets are widely available, a great treat all year round, in salads or whizzed-up into a pate with crowdie, cream, lemon juice and chopped parsley. Serve the fried fillets, with this sharp rhubarb or some gooseberry sauce, both special ingredients in sweet and savoury summer recipes and traditionally, a perfect foil for oily fish.

The mackerel fillets in the photograph were seasoned with sea salt and ground black pepper before coating in medium oatmeal sprinkled on a large plate and pressed into both sides of the fish fillets. As a guideline, allow one tablespoon of medium oatmeal per fish fillet. They only take a few minutes to cook as described above.

Rhubarb, orange and ginger sauce

(Enough for two or three people, or up to six fish fillets)

2 sticks of Scottish garden rhubarb, washed and cut into 3cm chunks

1 rounded tbsp granulated sugar

1 piece of root ginger about the size of the top half of your thumb

Zest and juice of half a large orange (you will need the other half for garnish, plus a little extra squeeze of juice to complete cooking the fish)

Method

1. Place the chopped rhubarb into a small saucepan that has a close-fitting lid.

2. Add the sugar, finely grated root ginger, finely grated orange zest and orange juice to the pan. Mix well and place on a very low heat, cover with the lid. Allow to cook gently for around 10 minutes, until the rhubarb has broken up and become pulpy.

3. Remove from heat and beat the cooked rhubarb with a wooden spoon for a minute until it becomes even more puréed.

4. Push the puree through a plastic sieve into a clean bowl with the back of your wooden spoon. Keep pushing the puree through until all the rhubarb has been used. Don’t forget to scrape the puree from the base of the sieve, as the thick fruit will also collect there.

5. Warm gently before serving with the cooked mackerel. Serve with new potatoes, garnished with butter and fresh mint, for a true taste of summer. Add summer vegetables such as baby carrots and lightly cooked courgettes or fresh spinach.

Shirley Spear is owner of The Three Chimneys and The House Over-By on the Isle of Skye and chair of the Scottish Food Commission, which is helping to build Scotland into a Good Food Nation. For more information visit threechimneys.co.uk or phone 01470 511258