Bruce Anderson, The Spectator Magazine, 19 August 1999

Why go to ultima Thule to learn how to cook? So I arrived expecting pretentiousness and disappointment. I could not have been more mistaken. There were about ten of us, mainly strangers, all wondering in a polite way how we would fare in one another's company for the next week. But our reserve was instantly broken by a combination of cocktails and a cook.

Rosemary is the cook from central casting. She is roly-poly, noisy, cheerful roaringly enthusiastic... She does all this without intimidating the guests on the cookery courses. It is made clear from the outset that they are volunteers on holiday. But Rosemary's joy in her craft was so infectious that everyone rushed to participate.

The castle is surrounded by the living larder of the hill and ocean... She teaches her pupils how to make those ingredients sing. Their efforts are, of course, further encouraged by the knowledge that within a few hours they will be eating what they are preparing. The meals at Amhuinnsuidhe were of the highest class: an easy two rosettes, with individual dishes and indeed meals fully worthy of the third...

By the end of the week, Rosemary's pupils had flourished under her tutelage. You could hear them talking excitedly about future dinner-party menus, though wondering how on earth they could recapture the freshness of her ingredients.

It is not necessary to want to learn to cook to come to Amhuinnsuidhe; people also come to paint, or fish, or just relax; there are also musical weeks. Equally, wives can cook while husbands kill things. But whether or not you help prepare it, you eat Rosemary's cooking at meals and there is no finer food in Scotland. I do not believe that there is a better cookery school anywhere, or one more beautiful, or one which provides finer meals.