Taste Ranald Macdonald’s wines, and you can forgive his ancestors for allying with the Vikings

The Macdonalds of Clanranald are one of the oldest families in the world. Their lineage comfortably predates the Scotland of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Descended from the Macdonald Lords of the Isles and sea kings of Dalriada, the Clanranalds emerge from the mists, myths and archaeology of the Dark Ages. But they were guilty of a misjudgment. Just as Robert the Bruce started life as an Anglo-Norman noble, the Macdonalds had to navigate the violent uncertainties of pre- and early medieval Scotland. They also had to reckon with the Vikings.

(A Viking longship arrives at a beach, and the bosun divides the crew into three squads. ‘You lot, burning and slaughtering. You, looting and pillaging.’ Instantly, the third group complain: ‘Oh no, not raping again.’)

Like El Cid on the Spanish/Moorish frontier, the Macdonalds exercised tactical flexibility. Sometimes, they fought the Vikings; on other occasions, they allied with them. In 1263, there was one alliance too many. The Clanranalds fought alongside King Haakon Haakonson of Norway at the battle of Largs. The Norsemen suffered a strategic defeat, and a terminal one. The Viking threat to Scotland was ended, and Alexander II, the victorious King of Scots, consolidated his success by seizing the Lordship of the Isles.

750 years later, Ranald Macdonald, Younger of Clanranald, still looks as if he might have Viking blood. But he has settled for a more peaceable vocation, as a restaurateur, wine merchant and cigar impresario. His premises at Boisdale Belgravia and ditto, Canary Wharf, are well-known, and deservedly so. If you want outstanding fish and shellfish, followed by bloody, well-hung Scotch beef or perhaps haggis, Ranald is your man. On haggis, I confess to heresy. Traditionally, it is served with champit tatties and bashed neeps: a tedious acreage of mediocre vegetatation.