Embarking on a Scottish Festive Food Pilgrimage: The Ultimate M3 Touring Christmas Journey
As the twinkling lights of the holiday season begin to illuminate cities across the United States, many are dreaming of the perfect Christmas dinner. While some may opt for the convenience of pre-prepared fare or the familiar aisles of their local supermarket, a true appreciation for the festive feast lies in its origins. This is precisely the spirit that guided our recent expedition, a meticulously planned, two-day culinary quest through the heart of Scotland, culminating in the sourcing of every essential ingredient for a traditional, three-course Christmas meal. And to navigate this ambitious undertaking, we enlisted the aid of a rather formidable accomplice: the BMW M3 CS Touring.
For a seasoned automotive professional with a decade of experience under my belt, this wasn’t merely a road trip; it was a testament to the marriage of high-performance engineering and the pursuit of culinary excellence. The challenge was clear: traverse the rugged Scottish landscape, braving its notoriously capricious weather, to connect directly with artisanal producers. Our mission: to procure the finest Scottish produce, from the centerpiece turkey to the trimmings and celebratory libations, all while documenting the journey with photographer Max Edleston.
The choice of vehicle was paramount. Forget the whimsical limitations of a nimble roadster ill-suited for cargo. We needed a machine that balanced generous carrying capacity with the verve and tenacity to conquer challenging terrain. Enter the BMW M3 CS Touring. This estate car, a rare and exhilarating breed, is less a family hauler and more a track-bred behemoth reimagined for pragmatic utility. Its specification sheet reads like a love letter to performance driving: a potent 543 horsepower engine, extensive use of carbon fibre, a 3D-printed cylinder head, and a lightweight crankshaft all point to its performance pedigree. Coupled with its switchable all-wheel-drive system, it promised not just speed but the crucial stability needed for Scotland’s often treacherous roads. Its 1510 litres of cargo space with the rear seats folded was more than adequate for our anticipated haul.
Our journey commenced on the M90 out of Edinburgh, a relatively sedate introduction that allowed us to appreciate the M3 CS Touring’s surprising civility. With the titanium silencer engaged, the cabin remained hushed, the suspension offered a composed ride, and the steering, though precise, was commendably steady. The only notable intrusion was the occasional roar from the Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tyres, a testament to their performance focus, but this was largely dependent on the road surface.
Soon, we veered off the motorway, plunging into the secluded beauty of Glen Devon and Dunning Glen. Here, the damp, narrow, yet delightfully smooth B934 twisted and turned through hillsides painted in a vibrant tapestry of greens and browns. The M3 Touring adapted effortlessly to the challenging curves. In its gentlest automatic gearbox mode, the eight-speed ZF transmission delivered perfectly timed, elastic shifts. Despite its substantial dimensions, the incredibly precise steering allowed us to place the car with uncanny accuracy, a capability tested by the occasional leaping red squirrel that dared to cross our path.
Our first destination was the substantial premises of Simon Howie Butchers, a beacon of Scottish culinary success situated on the outskirts of Dunning. Simon Howie’s story is one of entrepreneurial spirit, beginning with a modest village butcher shop and evolving into a multi-branch operation that supplies major supermarkets across the UK. He is, in fact, the nation’s largest producer of haggis, a staggering 1.3 million units manufactured between Christmas and Burns Night alone.
Operations manager Robbie Crook, a knowledgeable and genial host, guided us through the facilities. In the “pudding room,” the rich aroma of black pudding set our stomachs rumbling. Our primary objective, however, was haggis – the iconic Scottish dish of minced pork, beef, and lamb offal, oatmeal, barley, and a carefully guarded blend of seasonings. Mr. Crook highlighted their gluten-free and vegetarian iterations, noting that the latter often serves as an approachable introduction for the uninitiated. We also sampled the delightful haggis balls, deep-fried and breaded bon-bons that would serve as a perfect festive starter.
Next, we moved to the bacon room, its air perfumed with the sweet and smoky scent of curing pork. Here, Mr. Crook explained the meticulous process of hand-rubbing pork belly with a dry cure, aging it for up to ten days, and then smoking it for four to six hours over wood chips. These expertly prepared cuts were then machine-sliced and wrapped around pork chipolatas, forming the basis of our first mouthwatering side dish: pigs in blankets. Two essential elements secured, we re-entered the M3, the wind intensifying and the rain beginning to lash down.
The hedgerow-lined B-road led us across a swollen River Earn, its currents teeming with salmon making their arduous journey upstream. The canopy of trees began to shed branches under the onslaught, and water pooled along the verges – a stark reminder that this was decidedly not the weather for a Morgan Super 3. The BMW’s M xDrive system, a rear-biased, multi-plate clutch affair, proved remarkably adept. It faithfully delivered power to the road, allowing us to trace confident arcs without a hint of instability. The only moment of apprehension arose on sections of standing water, where the M3 CS Touring exhibited a degree of skittishness, pushing even the least track-focused tyre option to its limits.
We bypassed Crieff, ascending into the wild expanse of the Sma’ Glen, its slopes adorned with crimson ferns and heather. Further ascent brought us to a fast, exposed upland section towards Amulree. In its supplest setting, the M3’s adaptive suspension maintained an impressive level of comfort, though a couple of noticeably bumpy sections on the descent into Dunkeld provided a brief jolt.
Despite the sodden conditions, Dunkeld, a gem of a town, captivated us. Thomas Telford’s seven-arch bridge gracefully spans the handsome River Tay, leading us into the ancient heart of the settlement. On a narrow lane, adjacent to the 700-year-old cathedral, we artfully maneuvered the BMW into a parking spot outside The Clootie Dumpling café, our next culinary destination.
Mike and Jacinta Cairney’s establishment is renowned for its namesake Scottish spiced cake, prepared to the cherished recipe of Mike’s mother, affectionately known as Granny Margaret. “Mum would make clootie dumpling for our birthday tea, with a 10 pence piece inside,” Mike reminisced. “If there was any left, she’d fry it up the next morning with bacon and eggs, haggis, black pudding, and Lorne sausage.” This deeply ingrained nostalgia is a significant draw for many of their customers, who also associate clootie dumplings with 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 spices is hand-beaten with treacle, eggs, and milk. A cloth, or ‘cloot,’ is then scalded in boiling water before being laid out and dusted with flour, forming the dumpling’s characteristic chewy skin. The rich dumpling mixture is poured onto the cloot, which is then tied securely. The entire parcel is then boiled for a substantial four hours. The generous, warm slice presented to me, accompanied by cream, was a revelation – a mellower, lighter alternative to traditional Christmas pudding. We departed with a substantial half clootie dumpling, a sweet triumph.
Navigating through full storm conditions, we pressed eastward towards Angus, traversing saturated country lanes. The visibility was so severely reduced by standing water that it felt as though we were piloting an ekranoplan. The subsequent 36 miles were a slow, deliberate crawl through 200-metre visibility, the twin mono-scroll, 2.1-bar turbos of the 3.0-litre straight-six engine reduced to a mere whisper.
Our spirits were lifted by a warm welcome at South Powrie Farm, just north of Dundee, where Thomas and Susannah Pate, the proprietors, awaited us. Their farm is one of a select few across the United Kingdom entrusted with rearing the KellyBronze breed, a turkey renowned for its exceptional flavour. The Pates raise 600 turkeys, which arrive as day-old chicks that could, astonishingly, all fit within the confines of the M3. Our target was a single, magnificent bird, destined to grow to a formidable 15kg. A planned meeting with the flock was postponed, as the birds, wisely seeking shelter from the deluge, were concealed within their field shelter. We arranged to return the following morning, hoping for more clement skies.
At 8 am, we were greeted by a cacophony of clucks, squawks, and yelps. The highly inquisitive turkeys, exhibiting an almost urgent enthusiasm, performed a waddling sprint to meet us in their two-acre enclosure of woodland and long grass. Their plumage was truly magnificent, a spectrum of deep brown with an almost iridescent, rainbow sheen. The adolescent males sported distinctive snoods and wattles – puce folds of skin above and below their beaks – and proudly fanned their tail feathers. However, gender proved to be no determinant of social standing; this was dictated by a literal pecking order, with dominant personalities asserting their authority by nipping at the feathers of their inferiors. One particularly ambitious bird even took a tentative nibble at my wellies, then my leg. I made a mental note to revisit this feathered adversary in late December. For now, we secured a whole, frozen turkey, ready for our festive centrepiece.
In the immediate lead-up to Christmas, the Pates sell fresh turkeys directly to the public from their farm and designated collection points along the east coast. One of these points also offers locally grown vegetables, prompting our next destination. Crossing the Tay Road Bridge into Fife, we finally encountered an opportunity to truly unleash the M3 CS Touring’s capabilities.
In its most aggressive engine setting, the CS remains largely restrained below 3000rpm. However, beyond that threshold, acceleration becomes so forceful and relentless that it feels almost exponential. With the exhaust flaps open, the rising revs are accompanied by an ever-louder, bass-heavy rumble and a mounting inductive aggression – dramatic, certainly, though not entirely spine-tingling. The sweeping expanse of the A92 proved to be the M3’s natural habitat, where it devoured the tarmac with a rare blend of pace and unflappable balance, the car seemingly melding with the road surface.
On the more intricate minor roads that followed, the M3 exhibited slightly less composure, both in terms of cornering inertia and ride suppleness. Nevertheless, the experience remained riotous, with the inflatable bolsters on the bucket seats providing reassuringly firm support.
With the CS thoroughly warmed, we pulled up outside Pittormie Fruit Farm, a compact, 35-acre site managed by Euan Cameron and his family. Although their shop had closed after a successful summer of fruit sales, the honesty box in the egg shed was kept well-supplied with a consistent offering of seasonal winter vegetables, also sold to local restaurants and greengrocers. Mr. Cameron espouses an appealingly laissez-faire approach to cultivation, employing minimal fertilisers and eschewing fungicides and artificial irrigation. He expresses a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the conformity and lack of seasonality prevalent in today’s supermarket produce. “I don’t force things,” he stated. “I like it to get there naturally. I don’t care if something is fugly.”
His ATV (All-Terrain Vehicle) transported us to the vibrantly coloured brassica beds, where he unearthed a well-stocked Bosworth-variety Brussels sprout tree, its branches adorned with firm, green nuggets of Christmas joy. Mr. Cameron then presented an unfamiliar, purplish-green mass of leaves, a kalette – a hybrid of sprout and kale – whose florets cook to a crisp, offering a nutty alternative for those who find traditional sprouts unappealing.
We were also in the ideal location for potatoes. Using a re-engineered old harvester, a modest two-acre plot yields an impressive 22 varieties, many of which are niche. His preferred varieties for roasting include drier types such as Kerrs Pink and Golden Wonder, but he favours the waxier Wilja for boiling, oiling, and air-frying. Along with a few carrots, we loaded a generous bag of these terrestrial treasures into the BMW’s rear hatch.
With tomatoes and apples to sustain us en route, we continued south across Fife’s characteristically rolling farmland, navigating gorse-lined B-roads. The steering, consistently faithful, performed best in its heavier, more intuitive Sport mode; the lightness of Comfort mode felt incongruous with the car’s considerable size and weight. We maintained a brisk pace, with the middle of the three gearbox settings in both automatic and manual modes proving most effective. In automatic, it allowed sufficient revs without unnecessarily dwelling in the upper ranges, while in manual, it offered responsive downshifts without the jarring, full-body convulsions experienced in the most aggressive setting. The optional £8800 carbon-ceramic brakes were both exquisitely modulated and devastatingly effective.
The main coastal road eventually presented itself, bringing us to a converted stone stable block that houses Futtle Brewery. The name derives from an onomatopoeic Scots word describing pebbles being thrashed by the surf. A significant portion of the large, open space is occupied by stainless-steel fermenters, producing high-quality, unfiltered organic lagers, wheat beers, spelt beers, and pale ales. In a corner, Ethan Russell Hogg dispensed pints and curated the vinyl selection. “Our beers are fresh and different and take a long time to brew – six to eight weeks, sometimes more – which makes a higher-quality beer,” he explained. Unconventionally, they utilize raw, whole-leaf hops rather than pellets or oil, along with a blend of malted and unmalted grains and locally foraged plants and seaweed for flavour. Intriguingly, a ‘coolship’ – an open-topped copper vessel – is employed for brewing Belgian lambic-style ‘wild beers,’ which ferment by absorbing airborne yeasts before aging in old cider casks. The first two batches were scheduled for bottling by Christmas. For our immediate needs, we selected some cloudy but light Table Beer, Futtle’s original ale, to accompany our forthcoming feast.
Our pilgrimage concluded with a final, solitary mile to the idyllic fishing harbour of St Monans. Here, nestled against the harbour wall, stood a pastel blue, two-storey building. Battered by waves on one side, East Pier Smokehouse is an acclaimed yet refreshingly accessible seafood restaurant. In its dining room and panoramic roof deck, they serve mackerel, langoustines, and lobster – all landed mere yards away – alongside Cullen skink, crab, sea bass, 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,” a description that perfectly captures its most unique feature: a traditional smoker, no larger than a cupboard, that opens directly onto the street.
In use since the 1940s, its walls are now deeply encrusted with tar. Two angled channels at the bottom are where Mr. Robb burns oak and beech sawdust for 36 to 48 hours – depending on the weather – to cold-smoke West Coast salmon. Compared to modern smoking machines, this is an exceptionally fickle, old-school approach, occasionally necessitating midnight check-ups. However, Mr. Robb has mastered this intricate process, producing both traditional and a distinctive burgundy-hued, beetroot-cured salmon for restaurant service and direct public sale. I was privileged to sample a plate featuring this exquisite salmon, served with bread, butter, lemon, and capers. The result was sweet, smoky, firm, and, without exaggeration, the finest I have ever tasted. It was a fitting and unforgettable conclusion to our ten-ingredient Christmas dinner – a meal conceived in Scotland and delivered with the exhilarating performance of a machine engineered in Munich.
This journey has underscored the profound connection between exceptional driving dynamics and the appreciation of artisanal food production. The BMW M3 CS Touring, far from being just a mode of transport, became an integral part of the festive narrative. If your own holiday preparations involve seeking out the extraordinary, consider the joy of direct connection with your food’s makers. Explore local farms, independent butchers, and craft producers – and perhaps, just perhaps, consider the ultimate companion for your culinary adventures.
