The trademark of quality

It is the answer of the consummate host, but today he's in the dog house, having inadvertently shut the family's Italian hunting dog, who answers variously to Caruso or The Doge, out on the patio. When it becomes clear the dog has cut his tail, Ryan departs even more remorsefully in search of first aid, but not before summoning coffee and pointing out the landmarks from the window.

The Crinan Hotel, under the ownership and management of Nick Ryan and his wife Frances for 29 years, has become a byword for hospitality. Last night it was named Hotel of the Year in the Macallan Taste of Scotland Awards, with Burt's Hotel in Melrose and the Summer Isles in Achiltibuie the runners-up. All three, like most of the establishments from large to tiny in the Taste of Scotland guide, are run by their owner-managers in a distinctly hands-on fashion.

They are strong on individuality - some would say idiosyncrasy - but form a refreshing antidote to the universality of everything from the butter portions to the decorative knick-knacks of the chains and franchises.

Since Ryan's guests tend to be regulars plus newcomers directed by the recommendations of friends, he can look at guide books with some detachment - and frankly finds many of them wanting.

''I withdrew from one years ago after someone I had to ask to leave turned up as an inspector,'' he said eyes widening in disbelief still.

The Taste of Scotland scheme, he says, has had a few ups and downs, but now he thinks is firmly on track with its emphasis on fresh local produce.

Perched above Crinan harbour and the final lock of the canal, with a sea-eagle's view over the Sound of Jura from the upstairs bar and restaurant, the hotel's trademark is fish and seafood straight from the boat.

Back to the business of hotel success, Nick Ryan recounts what was clearly a chastening experience. Having taken an elderly relative to Glasgow Airport to catch a flight which was seriously delayed, they ended up in an airport hotel along with 400 other frustrated travellers. In the face of complaints about lost luggage and endless demands from people who would be appeased only by getting on an aeroplane, Ryan could only marvel at the besieged receptionists and allow that his sense of purpose and job satisfaction would probably not withstand such a battering, which is partly what prompted him to nominate the guests as the key ingredient.

His, he acknowledges, may be high-powered businessmen who want everything at the double in city centre hotels but, when they head towards the westering sun, they are seeking relaxation, good food, comfort, and a happy atmosphere.

Once questioned rigorously by one of the bright young management trainees produced by hotel schools as to the socio-economic status of his guests, he instantly created a new category - three As: artistic, affluent, and alcoholic. ''Artistic people are interesting and good company, you want them to be affluent so that they spend money, and alcohol helps a lot,'' he grins.

Bow-tied and suede-waistcoated, he combines a bit of artistic jauntiness with being dapper. He started in the business at the age of 15 as a bell boy on the Queen Mary - following in the footsteps of his father who had worked for Cunard for 42 years. Essentially, however, he ran away to sea because he did not want to work for his father and uncle in the guest house they ran in North Berwick. It meant, though, that he learned his trade where everything was ''of the best'' so that variable quality in food was rather an eye-opener once he became land-based.

He and his wife Frances settled in Crinan when he became manager not only of the Crinan Hotel but of the two other local hotels which were then run as a group: ''the only job I could get,'' he says. When they were sold off, the Ryans were determined to buy the Crinan, although he confesses he now can't remember how they managed to raise the money.

Between then and now, hotel-keeping in Scotland has undergone a sea-change. Nick Ryan has his own way of charting progress: ''Standards have gone up massively. I remember when the tourist board first started their campaign for all rooms to have a bathroom, and now that is something we take for granted.

''Twenty-five years ago, you didn't see flowers on the tables or in the bedrooms, 20 years ago you couldn't get a bit of garlic, but one of the great effects of the Asian population in Glasgow is that the fruit and vegetable market now has all sorts every kind of exotic vegetable you can think of, not to mention 20 different kinds of lettuce - and everywhere you go you seem to get one of those Cape gooseberries on your plate.''

Although they drive to the fruitmarket in Glasgow three times a week, he's equally ebullient about how much easier life has become for Highland landladies with the advent of Tesco in Oban, and encourages us all to badger our local supermarkets for good ingredients, citing as an example Lady Claire MacDonald's gastronomic cooking culled partly from the Co-op.

The cult of the celebrity chef has gone too far, he says, calling on an analogy from his cruise liner days. ''Gerraldo and his orchestra played on the Queen Mary, the Queen Elizabeth, and the Canberra. My father spent 42 years sailing with Cunard and only once saw Gerraldo. In other words the chances of getting a meal cooked by some of these people is pretty slim.

His attitude that life and work are inseparable has spun off on the family. Son Ross is now working in the hotel after training as an artist and some of his paintings are adorning the walls along with his mother, Frances Macdonald's stunning seascapes, whose wave formations are often sketched by Frances while Ross and daughter Julia are surfing. Julia divides her time between Crinan and her husband Jamie Spencer's community projects in the Madagascar rainforest.

THE family are all attracted to the sea and keep a yacht in the harbour. Nick himself is passionate about fish and is delighted that its qualities are becoming more widely appreciated. ''People know how good it is for you,'' he says.

At Crinan a bad fire 23 years ago closed the hotel, but provided the opportunity of building the rooftop restaurant with its stunning sea views and, at that stage, they opened a coffee shop in the village simply to keep the business going. That's still going strong, but reputation, and an ever-changing seascape, are not enough to keep taking the punters' money in Ryan's view, so three years ago they opened up the roof again and put in a new bar.

Effectively, it is now a mini art gallery, to Ryan's delight. He acknowledges that once he didn't think decor was too important; that's another change people like Ken McCulloch of One Devonshire Gardens and the Malmaison have brought about. He may be an old hand, but he's not going to fall into the trap of complacency.

Scottish hospitality may be variable, but the best meets the standards of song and story.