The idea for Reestit did not appear during a gleaming business lunch with water in stemless glasses. It arrived at 1 am, in front of the dying embers of a peat fire, as I slumped over a laptop with fifty-seven browser tabs open, each one promising a “unique” holiday experience that looked remarkably like the one before. I was staring at 4.8 star ratings with the focus of a forensic accountant, trying to understand why one person adored the “rustic charm” while another reported a shower that hummed like a low-flying aircraft.
Somewhere between listings, it occurred to me that I was less interested in perfection than in honesty. I didn’t need paradise. I just needed to know whether I’d enjoy making toast there.
The Shetland Connection
I grew up knowing that anything worth having usually takes time and a fair amount of wood smoke. In my family's Shetland heritage, Reestit Mutton isn’t just food; it’s an act of faith. You salt it, hang it in the rafters (the reest), and allow peat smoke and patience to work their quiet magic. What emerges is something transformed - not flashy, not complicated, but unmistakably itself.
And at some point, while still awake far later than any sensible person should be, I wondered why we couldn’t do the same with travel.
Why couldn’t we take the raw, unruly mass of guest reviews and cure it down to its true character? No marketing varnish. No glossy promises. Just the essential flavour of a place, preserved with a bit of common sense.
I wanted to build something that didn’t just show you photographs of a kitchen, but told you whether you’d actually enjoy standing in it, slightly barefoot, trying to coax toast out of an unfamiliar appliance.
A Compass for the Curiously Minded
Reestit was made for people who like to know what they’re getting into. For independent travellers who don’t mind a quirk - as long as it’s disclosed in advance. People who see charm in oddness, but prefer not to discover it at the top of a spiral staircase with a heavy bag.
The aim was to smoke out the reality of a place. To find the little bits of gold dust - the host who leaves fresh eggs - and the honest hurdles - the stairs that appear to require a sherpa - long before you’ve zipped your case.
Not to judge. Just to reveal.
The Journey Ahead
As we light the first fires here at the Hearth, the goal is simple: to offer a slightly more intelligent, slightly more human way of choosing where to stay. We’re starting with our three core analytical smokes, but the kiln is warming nicely, and there’s plenty more to come.
I’m genuinely pleased to have you along for the journey. It should be an interesting one - and with any luck, one that involves better kettles than most of the ones I’ve met so far.
Safe travels and honest stays.