To the village of Stein, then, on the far side of Skye. On this dank, dark and stormy mid-October night it consists of a beach (no sand), some palm trees (seriously), a 16th-century inn (mobbed), maybe 10 houses, at least 20 rabbits (very bold), a loch (dark) and finally a Michelin-starred restaurant (entirely full).

Just to be able to sit down tonight at this wooden table at 8.45pm on the dot and eat, say, these beautiful scallops – one raw, one seared to caramelised perfection and a third with a crisp hazelnut crust – we drove for, ooh, six hours over moor and past mountain, through Glen Coe and Kintail then finally up and over the Skye bridge and then on and on for bloody miles before winding wearily down the steep hill here to McLeods Terrace. A slightly longer journey than Michelin perhaps recommend even for a newly crowned one-star restaurant.

In return there has been a steaming bowl of fresh haddock soup, a buttery fried sandwich of crab and Mull cheddar on the side. Crisp herring goujons in oatmeal to snack on, bread made just for this sitting at hand. There are prawns, or langoustines, or whatever you want to call them, today hauled from the minch, or the sound or the butt, and like no prawns or langoustines I have had since I was a kid, being large and plump and fresh and sweet – and very gently cooked. And lobster, tiny cubes of tart apple and sorrel leaves. On the very same plate. And we still haven’t had the monkfish, or the clootie dumpling souffle.

But before we get to that consider this: as we dashed into the rain from the Stein Inn a few doors down Debs asked me if I was seriously, I mean seriously, having dinner in a Michelin-starred restaurant wearing jeans and a checked shirt. Even Luca had put a jumper on. Er, yes. That’s because I know, having been here last week signally failing to get a table for dinner (prompting tonight’s return journey), that the Loch Bay is not like most other Michelin-starred restaurants, having 20 seats and plain wooden tables. Forget this nonsense people claim about Michelin inspectors demanding a whispering sommelier, a million-pound wine cellar and a minimum of three feet between tables. There’s no sommelier here, everything is, ahem, cosily arranged, the tables so small Luca and I occasionally bump elbows and as for a dress code? Spookily, every male in here tonight, including the staff, is wearing either a checked shirt or a polo shirt. And there are also jeans all round. Does it make for relaxed eating? It does and in a wild, windswept and, depending on your point of view, remote spot that’s straight out of central casting.

To that monkfish, then. Like every single piece of food that comes from that tiny kitchen we can see into from here tonight, it is simply and beautifully presented. Firm, clean fish, oysters plunged for a second or two into water to take the edge off them, local cress, chanterelles, shellfish sauce. Easy? No, but it's made to look easy and elegant.

To finish there’s that clootie dumpling given the Michelin magic, meaning it looks like a fondant and tastes like dumpling but isn’t in the least bit heavy. We have the assiette of desserts too – heavy, chocolatey squares, tart, icy sorbets, shortbread, local blueberries, toasted almonds, scoops of cream – this is very classical Michelin.

A perfect meal? Nothing is perfect. If you ask me, and nobody ever does, Michelin-standard chefs in Scotland can be split into two schools: the salt lovers and the salt avoiders. If you ask me Michael Smith, a very nice guy who I met last week when failing to get that table, is in the latter school. I think some of these courses – the soup, the monkfish and the triple-cooked chips – could have done with a pinch more seasoning. Otherwise it's well worth the epic journey.

Loch Bay

1 Macleods Terrace, Stein, Skye (lochbay-restaurant.co.uk, 01470 592235)

Menu: A flawless tour of the giants of west-coast seafood with lobster, prawns and monkfish given the Michelin magic. 5/5

Atmosphere: It's a tiny lochside restaurant on Skye with just 20 seats. Cosy and reasonably comfortable with the sort of vibe Hollywood types would pay fortunes for. 4/5

Service: Not like any Michelin-starred restaurant you have been in before. Relaxed, casual and they generally leave you alone. 4/5

Price: The five-course seafood menu with extra tricks and treats thrown in costs £65. There’s a three-course fixed-price menu at £39 too. Great value. 4/5

Food: This is what Scotland is all about: gloriously fresh, majestically simple seafood from the lochs and bays. 9/10

Total: 26/30