Scotland’s Festive Feast: A Highland Pursuit Fueled by the Ultimate Driving Machine
For a decade, I’ve navigated the intricate landscape of automotive performance and luxury. My tenure has been marked by a deep dive into the very essence of what makes a vehicle more than just transportation – it’s an experience, a tool, and often, an extension of our ambitions. This year, my Christmas tradition took an unexpected, yet profoundly satisfying, turn. While many of my esteemed colleagues in the automotive journalism sphere might be discussing the merits of the latest supercar over a catered Yuletide lunch in some plush London establishment, my reality, and that of my photographer colleague, demanded a more hands-on approach. We were tasked with a singular mission: to procure every single element of our three-course Christmas feast, complete with libations, directly from the artisans and producers scattered across the magnificent, and often challenging, Scottish landscape. And to accomplish this ambitious undertaking within a tight two-day window, we needed more than just a reliable mode of transport. We needed a statement.
The notion of traversing Scotland’s rugged terrain in a delicate roadster, its limited storage seemingly designed for a single festive mince pie, was swiftly dismissed. The requirements were clear: we needed ample space for a substantial Christmas turkey and all the accompanying trimmings, the agility to navigate winding country lanes, and the sure-footedness to conquer the notoriously capricious Scottish weather, which, as is tradition, threatened to unleash its full fury in the form of gale-force winds and torrential downpours. It was during these earnest discussions, fueled by strong Scottish coffee and a shared resolve, that one vehicle emerged as the undisputed champion: the BMW M3 CS Touring.
This generously proportioned, five-seat estate car, a veritable sanctuary of leather and advanced engineering, is a frankly astonishing creation. Its lineage is deeply rooted in track performance, evidenced by a specification sheet that reads like a motorsport engineer’s dream. Boasting an output of 543 horsepower – a healthy 20 bhp increase over its predecessor – this is a machine sculpted from carbon fibre, featuring a 3D-printed cylinder head and a lightweight crankshaft. The suspension and fluid circuits have been meticulously refined to withstand the extreme g-forces encountered on the racetrack. Yet, it possesses a duality that would make Jekyll and Hyde envious, proving remarkably adept at serenely gliding along the M90 out of Edinburgh, its specially designed titanium silencer hushed to a near whisper at the touch of a button. The ride, while firm and focused, remained surprisingly composed, and the steering, even at speed, was steady and predictable. The only significant intrusion was the resonant roar of the Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tires, a sonic signature that, while exhilarating, was heavily dependent on the road surface.
Our journey began with a deliberate descent from the motorway into the secluded enclaves of Glen Devon and Dunning Glen. The B934, a ribbon of damp but immaculately smooth asphalt, twisted and turned through Seussian hillsides painted in a vibrant palette of lush greens and rich browns. Here, the M3 Touring truly came alive. In its most relaxed automatic gearbox setting, the eight-speed ZF torque converter delivered seamlessly timed, elastic shifts. Despite its considerable dimensions – measuring two metres between its mirrors – the car’s pinpoint steering allowed it to be positioned with astonishing precision, effortlessly hugging the tarmac, even giving us ample room to dodge a pair of startled red squirrels.
Cresting a gentle incline, the substantial edifice of Simon Howie Butchers loomed into view on the outskirts of Dunning, adjacent to Mr. Howie’s own idyllic farmhouse. This is a true Scottish success story. What began as a modest village butcher’s shop has blossomed into a regional powerhouse, with branches in neighbouring towns and a significant supply contract with major supermarkets. Crucially, Simon Howie is also the UK’s largest producer of haggis, an astonishing 1.3 million of these national delicacies churned out between Christmas and Burns Night alone.
Though Mr. Howie was away, operations manager Robbie Crook graciously welcomed us. Our first stop was the “pudding room,” where the rich, earthy aroma of black pudding immediately ignited our appetites. Our primary objective, however, was the haggis itself. The complex, comforting blend of minced pork, beef, and lamb offal, combined with oatmeal, barley, and a proprietary mix of seasonings, defines Scotland’s hearty national dish. Crook proudly explained their production of gluten-free and vegetarian variations, noting that the latter often serves as an accessible “gateway haggis” for the uninitiated. The innovation didn’t stop there; haggis balls, encased in a crispy batter and breadcrumb coating, transform the traditional fare into delightful, bite-sized bon-bons – a perfect candidate for a festive starter and a robust foundation for our Christmas menu.
Next, we ventured into the sweet- and smoke-scented bacon room. Crook elucidated the meticulous process behind their pigs in blankets. Pork belly, expertly hand-rubbed with a dry cure, is aged for up to ten days before being smoked for four to six hours over fragrant wood chips. The resulting strips of succulent bacon are then machine-sliced and artfully wrapped around plump pork chipolatas, promising a truly mouthwatering side dish.
With our first two crucial ingredients secured, we returned to the M3. The wind had escalated into a formidable force, and the rain began to lash down with relentless intensity. A hedgerow-hugging B-road led us across a swollen River Earn, its waters teeming with salmon making their arduous journey upstream. Sections of road were canopied by overhanging branches, shedding their leaves like confetti, and the verges were awash with standing water. This was unequivocally not Morgan Super 3 weather.
The BMW’s rear-biased, yet fully variable, multi-plate clutch M xDrive system, however, performed with exemplary composure. It faithfully delivered every ounce of requested power, allowing us to trace confident arcs through the challenging conditions without a hint of instability. The only moment of recalcitrance occurred when encountering significant standing water, which caused the CS to exhibit a degree of skittishness. Even with the least aggressive of the three available tire options, they were clearly being pushed beyond their optimal operating parameters.
We bypassed Crieff, opting instead to ascend into the rugged expanse of the Sma’ Glen, its slopes adorned with crimson ferns and hardy heather. The road then climbed further into exposed uplands, culminating in a fast-paced section towards Amulree. In its most compliant setting, the M3’s adaptive suspension maintained a commendable level of comfort, with only minor, yet noticeable, reactivity over a couple of unusually bumpy sections on the descent into Dunkeld.
Despite the sodden conditions, Dunkeld presented itself as an absolute gem. Thomas Telford’s iconic seven-arch bridge gracefully spanned the majestic River Tay, leading us into the heart of this tiny, ancient town. On a narrow lane, just a stone’s throw from the venerable 700-year-old cathedral, we artfully maneuvered the BMW in front of The Clootie Dumpling cafe, our destination for the sweet course.
Mike and Jacinta Cairney’s establishment is renowned for its namesake Scottish spiced cake, meticulously prepared to the cherished recipe of Mike’s late mother, affectionately known as Granny Margaret. “Mum would bake clootie dumpling for our birthdays, with a 10 pence piece hidden inside,” Mike reminisced. “If there were any leftovers, she’d fry it up the next morning with bacon and eggs, haggis, black pudding, and Lorne sausage.” This culinary memory, a staple of many a Scottish childhood, is precisely what draws many customers to the cafe, seeking that potent dose of nostalgia. Clootie dumplings are also a traditional centrepiece at weddings, Christmas, and Hogmanay celebrations.
Jacinta eloquently described the intricate preparation process. A dry mixture of flour, fat, breadcrumbs, raisins, sultanas, brown and white sugar, ginger, and warming spices is laboriously beaten by hand with treacle, eggs, and milk. A linen cloth, or ‘cloot,’ is then subjected to boiling water until scalding hot, before being laid out and dusted with flour, forming the foundation for the dumpling’s characteristic chewy exterior. The rich dumpling batter is carefully poured in, the cloot tied securely, and the entire package is then boiled for a substantial four hours. I was presented with a generous, warm slice, accompanied by a dollop of fresh cream. It was a revelation – remarkably mellow and significantly lighter than traditional Christmas pudding, and we departed with an immense half clootie dumpling, a testament to its irresistible charm.
Navigating the increasingly severe storm conditions, we directed our course east towards Angus, traversing saturated country roads. The sheer volume of standing water made it feel as though we were piloting a submersible rather than a high-performance estate car. The subsequent 36 miles were a slow, deliberate crawl through a fog of 200-metre visibility, the 3.0-litre straight-six engine’s twin 2.1-bar monoscroll turbos reduced to little more than a hushed whisper.
Our spirits were significantly lifted by the warm reception awaiting us at South Powrie Farm, situated just north of Dundee. Here, we were set to discuss all things turkey with Thomas and Susannah Pate. Their farm is one of a select few across the UK entrusted with rearing the esteemed KellyBronze breed, celebrated for its unparalleled flavour profile. The Pates tend to a flock of 600 turkeys, which, as day-old chicks, could comfortably fit within the confines of the M3’s capacious interior. However, we only required a single bird, a necessity given their impressive growth rate, with some reaching weights of up to 15kg. Our planned encounter with the full flock was thwarted by their wise decision to seek shelter from the tempest in their field housing, prompting a plan to return the following morning under more clement skies.
At 8 AM the next day, we were greeted by a chaotic yet endearing symphony of clucks, squawks, and yelps as the highly curious turkeys performed a waddling sprint to greet us in their two-acre haven of woodland and long grass. Their plumage was truly magnificent, a deep, almost iridescent bronze, shimmering with hints of brown and rainbow hues. The adolescent males, or stags, sported prominent snoods and wattles – fleshy crimson appendages above and below their beaks – and proudly unfurled their tail feathers. Yet, gender proved no predictor of social standing; this was dictated by a literal pecking order, with the dominant birds asserting their authority by plucking feathers from their subordinates. One particularly ambitious individual, emboldened by the fresh faces, even took a tentative nibble at my wellington boots, and then my leg. I resolved to meet it again in late December… In the meantime, we carefully secured a whole, frozen turkey for our journey.
In the immediate lead-up to Christmas, the Pates engage in the direct sale of fresh turkeys to the public, operating from their farm and at designated collection points along the east coast. One of these locations also happened to grow and sell exceptional vegetables, so our next destination was set. Crossing the formidable Tay Road Bridge into Fife, we finally encountered an opportunity to truly unleash the M3’s formidable power.
In its most aggressive engine setting, the CS remains commendably restrained below 3,000 rpm. However, beyond this threshold, the acceleration becomes so potent and relentless that it feels almost exponential. With the exhaust flaps fully open, the rising revs are accompanied by an ever-intensifying bass note and a mounting inductive aggression – dramatic, certainly, though perhaps not entirely spine-tingling. The sweeping expanse of the A92 proved to be the perfect stage, allowing the M3 to devour the tarmac with effortless pace and impeccable balance, the car feeling utterly integrated with the road surface.
It was less at ease on the more intricate minor roads that followed, exhibiting some cornering inertia and a slight reduction in suppleness. However, the experience remained exhilarating, with the supportive, inflatable bolsters of the bucket seats holding us firmly in place through every undulation.
With the CS thoroughly warmed up, we idled outside Pittormie Fruit Farm, a compact, 35-acre site managed by Euan Cameron and his family. Although the farm shop had closed after a productive summer of fruit sales, the honesty box at the egg shed was kept continuously jingling by a steady supply of seasonal winter vegetables, also distributed to restaurants and greengrocers. Cameron champions a refreshingly laissez-faire approach to cultivation, employing minimal fertilizers and eschewing fungicides and irrigation entirely. He voiced a notable disdain for the artificial conformity and lack of seasonality prevalent in contemporary supermarket produce. “I don’t force things,” he stated emphatically. “I like it to get there naturally. I don’t care if something is fugly.”
His ATV skillfully conveyed us to the vibrant beds of brassicas, where he unearthed a magnificent, well-stocked “sprout tree” of the Bosworth variety, adorned with firm, verdant nuggets of festive joy. Cameron then, with a flourish, pulled a less familiar, purple-green mass of leaves from the soil – kalette, a remarkable hybrid of sprout and kale, whose florets crisp beautifully in the pan, offering a nutty, intriguing alternative for those who find traditional sprouts a challenge.
We had also arrived at the perfect spot for tatties. Utilizing an antiquated harvester that Cameron had personally re-engineered, a modest two-acre plot yielded an impressive 22 varieties of potato, many of them niche offerings. His top recommendations for roasting were the drier cultivars, including Kerrs Pink and Golden Wonder, but the waxier Wilja was his personal favourite for boiling, oiling, and air-frying. Along with a few carrots, we loaded a generous bag through the BMW’s rear hatch.
With fresh tomatoes and apples to serve as en-route snacks, we continued south across Fife’s characteristic rolling farmland, navigating gorse-lined B-roads. The perpetually faithful steering system proved most effective in its heavier, more intuitive Sport mode; the lightness of the Comfort setting felt incongruous with the car’s substantial size and weight. We were maintaining a spirited pace, and the middle of the three available gearbox settings, in both automatic and manual modes, struck the ideal balance. In automatic, it allowed sufficient revs without unnecessarily lingering in the upper reaches, while in manual, it offered responsive downshifts without the jarring, full-body convulsions experienced in the most aggressive setting. The optional, £8,800 carbon-ceramic stoppers proved both remarkably easy to modulate and thoroughly ruthless when called upon.
The main coastal road eventually dictated our path, leading us to a converted stone stable block that now houses Futtle Brewery. The name itself, derived from an onomatopoeic Scots word for pebbles being thrashed by the surf, hints at the untamed spirit of their craft. Much of the expansive, open room is dedicated to gleaming stainless-steel fermenters, producing high-quality, unfiltered organic lagers, wheat beers, spelt beers, and pale ales. In a corner, Ethan Russell Hogg skillfully tended the bar, curating a selection of LPs. “Our beers are fresh and different, and they take a long time to brew – six to eight weeks, sometimes more – which results in a higher-quality beer,” he explained. Unconventionally, they utilize whole-leaf hops in their raw form, rather than pellets or oil, alongside a blend of malted and unmalted grains, and locally foraged plants and seaweed to imbue their brews with unique flavour profiles. Intriguingly, they also boast a ‘coolship’ – an open-topped copper vessel designed for brewing Belgian lambic-style ‘wild beers,’ which ferment by absorbing ambient airborne yeasts before aging in ex-cider casks. The initial two batches were slated for bottling by Christmas. For our immediate needs, we selected a bottle of cloudy but delightfully light Table Beer, Futtle’s original ale, to complement our forthcoming feast.
Our epicurean pilgrimage concluded with a final mile to the idyllic fishing harbour of St Monans. Nestled into the harbour wall, a charming pastel blue, two-storey building houses East Pier Smokehouse. Exposed to the full force of the waves on one side, this acclaimed yet remarkably accessible seafood restaurant is a true hidden gem. In its dining room and on its panoramic roof deck, they serve an array of delicacies – mackerel, langoustines, and lobster, all landed mere yards away, alongside classic Cullen skink, succulent crab, sea bass, tender octopus, and more. Takeaway is also available, provided the kitchen’s capacity allows. Chef and co-owner James Robb modestly refers to the restaurant as “a small, simple affair,” but this description perfectly encapsulates its most distinctive feature: a traditional smoker, no larger than a cupboard, which opens directly onto the street. In continuous use since the 1940s, its walls are now deeply encrusted with decades of tar. At the base, a pair of angled channels facilitate the burning of oak and beech sawdust for 36 to 48 hours – a process dictated by the prevailing weather – to cold-smoke West Coast salmon. Compared to modern smoking machines, this is an exceptionally fickle, old-school approach that occasionally demands midnight check-ups. However, Robb has demonstrably mastered the technique, producing both traditional and a striking burgundy-hued, beetroot-cured salmon, available for both restaurant service and direct public sale. I was privileged to be treated to a plate of this exquisite salmon, served with crusty bread, butter, lemon, and capers. The flavour was a sublime symphony of sweetness, smokiness, and firm texture – unequivocally the finest I have ever had the pleasure of tasting. It was the perfect culmination to our meticulously assembled, ten-course Christmas dinner – a feast crafted in Scotland, and express-delivered by Munich’s finest automotive engineers.
Embarking on this culinary quest, punctuated by the exhilarating performance of the BMW M3 CS Touring, has underscored the profound connection between exceptional craftsmanship and the pursuit of authentic flavour. As you plan your own festive gatherings or consider how to elevate your everyday driving experience, remember that the journey is as important as the destination. Discovering local artisans and embracing high-performance vehicles can transform ordinary moments into extraordinary memories.
Ready to explore the exhilarating fusion of driving prowess and culinary discovery for your next adventure? Contact your local BMW dealership today to arrange a test drive of the M3 CS Touring or explore their range of performance vehicles, and begin crafting your own unforgettable experiences.
