A Seafood Pilgrimage to Fort William

Mallaig Langoustines

If you want to eat Scottish fish and seafood in Fort William, there’s only one place to go: Crannog at Garrison West.

This beloved seafood restaurant has temporarily relocated to Cameron Square, while major repairs are underway at its original home on the Town Pier. The square itself is a lively hub—home to the excellent Highland Cinema, complete with a wood-fired pizza oven and a crowd-pleasing bistro menu, and the equally welcoming West Highland Museum, a treasure trove of military history, geology, flora and fauna and much more. 

Ice cold and briny

It’s a tragic paradox that seafood is Scotland’s largest export. Our world-class produce reaches 76 countries—58% of it to France. You’re more likely to eat a Scottish langoustine in Brittany than in the Highlands, where a Thai prawn from the supermarket is often the default.

So when I’m looking for somewhere to take visiting Norwegian guests, Garrison West is the only choice. Fortunately, it excels in both quality and value.

The atmosphere is spot-on—a rustic-meets-gastropub charm that suits the menu perfectly.

I begin, as I often do, with oysters and a perfectly mixed dirty martini. Both are ice-cold and briny, setting the tone for what’s to come. From there, the specials board reads like a love letter to Scottish waters: pollock, coley, fruits de mer, Oban lobster, Orkney salmon, North Sea hake, and Mallaig langoustines. Dining here doesn’t just feel like a treat—it feels like a patriotic duty.

Moreover, portions are generous and deeply satisfying.

My Mallaig langoustines, pink as Scottish sunburn and glistening with sea-sweet freshness, arrive with a classic dish of warm garlic butter on the side. They’re sweet, tender, and utterly indulgent—a generous drizzle of the butter only deepens their rich flavour.

Mr. Bite takes on a whale-sized portion of monkfish scampi & proper chips—golden, crisp, and perfectly fried, served with a sharp house tartare that cuts through the richness beautifully.

Lise opts for the North Sea hake, gently poached and nestled in a fragrant seafood broth, its surface dotted with plump mussels and fresh herbs. It’s light, aromatic, and deeply comforting.

It’s the kind of meal that feels both indulgent and rooted in the West Coast’s culinary heritage.

The dessert list is just as thoughtful. My Basque cheesecake, paired with earthy apricots, is luscious, silky, and creamy. Nil’s affogato is impressively generous, and the Gaelic coffees are rich, smooth, and flawlessly executed.

Our Norwegian friends give it an enthusiastic thumbs-up—a sure sign we made the right call. Honestly, it’s the kind of place we should all be choosing more often. And perhaps we need to balance GDP with wellbeing and sustainability via national consumption targets and incentives. 

Some seafood for thought.