Embarking on a Scottish Festive Food Expedition in the Precision of the BMW M3 CS Touring
A decade navigating the automotive landscape has taught me that sometimes, the most extraordinary journeys are born from the most essential needs. This particular festive season, the call of tradition and the desire for authentic, locally sourced ingredients led me and photographer Max Edleston on a unique mission across Scotland. Our objective: to assemble a complete, three-course Christmas feast, complete with all the trimmings and libations, directly from the artisans and producers who craft them. With a mere two days to achieve this ambitious undertaking, the choice of conveyance was not merely a matter of convenience, but a strategic imperative.
The Scottish landscape, particularly in late autumn and early winter, presents a formidable test for any vehicle. Whispers of Met Office advisories concerning wind and rain are practically a given, painting a canvas of challenging driving conditions. We needed a machine that offered not only ample cargo space for our soon-to-be-acquired festive bounty – imagine attempting to transport a prize-winning turkey in the cramped confines of a compact sports car; a logistical nightmare. Furthermore, a spirited turn of pace was desirable, not for ostentatious displays, but for efficient navigation between our appointments across rolling hills and winding country lanes. And crucially, the vehicle had to possess the sure-footedness and composure to handle whatever meteorological mood Scotland decided to adopt.
Enter the BMW M3 CS Touring. This particular iteration of the iconic M3 is, frankly, a marvel of engineering tailored for precisely such a scenario. Its capacious estate body, offering a generous 1510 litres of cargo volume with the rear seats folded, immediately addressed our primary concern. Then there’s the performance: a blistering 0-62mph sprint in just 3.5 seconds and a top speed nudging 186mph. But perhaps most critically, its switchable M xDrive all-wheel-drive system promised a level of security and traction that would be invaluable on potentially slick Scottish byways. It felt, almost, as if it had been custom-built for this specific festive food pilgrimage.
This generously equipped, leather-lined five-seater estate car is, to put it mildly, a fascinating proposition. While its genesis clearly involved a fervent desire for track-honed performance – evidenced by a formidable specification sheet boasting 543bhp (a healthy 20bhp increase over its predecessor, the Competition model), extensive use of carbon fibre panels, a 3D-printed cylinder head, a lightweight crankshaft, and suspension enhancements like additional rose joints and fluid circuits engineered to withstand extreme g-forces – it also proved remarkably adept at the mundane realities of road travel. Our initial foray north on the M90 from Edinburgh, en route to Loch Leven, demonstrated this duality perfectly. The special titanium silencer could be hushed to a mere whisper at the touch of a button, minimizing cabin intrusion. The suspension, while firm, provided a surprisingly muted level of jostle, and the steering remained commendably steady. The only notable acoustic presence was a subdued roar from the Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tires, a symphony of grip that was, mercifully, largely dependent on the road surface.
Before long, we veered off the main artery, delving into the secluded enclaves of Glen Devon and Dunning Glen. Here, the B934 presented a delightful challenge: a damp, narrow, yet exquisitely smooth ribbon of tarmac that snaked and twisted through hillsides adorned in a rich tapestry of greens and browns, evoking the fantastical landscapes of Dr. Seuss. The M3 Touring embraced these sinuous curves with an almost balletic grace. In the gearbox’s most relaxed ‘Auto’ mode, the eight-speed ZF torque converter performed seamless, perfectly timed shifts, its elasticity allowing the car to flow effortlessly. Despite its considerable two-meter width, the ultra-precise steering allowed for uncanny accuracy, placing the car within inches of the painted lines, much to the occasional surprise of any darting red squirrels.
Cresting a gentle incline, our first destination hove into view: the substantial facility of Simon Howie Butchers, strategically located on the outskirts of Dunning, adjacent to Mr. Howie’s own picture-postcard farmhouse. This is a quintessential Scottish success story. What began as a humble village butcher’s shop has blossomed into a significant enterprise, now operating two branches in nearby towns and supplying a vast array of major supermarkets. Furthermore, Simon Howie is recognized as the UK’s largest producer of haggis, a staggering statistic, with over 1.3 million units produced annually between Christmas and Burns Night alone.
While Mr. Howie himself was away, operations manager Robbie Crook graciously provided us with an insightful tour. Our first port of call was the aptly named ‘pudding room’, where the rich, earthy aroma of black pudding immediately set our appetites rumbling. However, our primary objective was the haggis itself. The intricate blend of minced pork, beef, and lamb offal, combined with oatmeal, barley, and a secret medley of seasonings, creates Scotland’s undeniably hearty national dish. It was fascinating to learn of their commitment to inclusivity, with gluten-free and vegetarian versions readily available. Mr. Crook noted that the vegetarian haggis often serves as an approachable “gateway” option for newcomers to this revered delicacy. We also observed the preparation of haggis balls, a popular Christmas starter, where the spiced mixture is formed into bite-sized morsels, dipped in batter, and deep-fried to a golden crisp. These bon-bons represented a robust foundation for our festive menu.
From the savory to the sweet, we moved to the bacon room, a space imbued with the comforting scents of sweetness and smoke. Here, Mr. Crook elaborated on their meticulous process for creating their signature pigs in blankets. Streaky cuts of pork belly are painstakingly hand-rubbed with a dry cure, then aged for up to ten days. Following this, they undergo a four to six-hour smoking process over wood chips before being expertly machine-sliced and artfully wrapped around succulent pork chipolatas. The result? A truly mouthwatering side dish, a crucial component of any celebratory spread.
With two essential elements of our Christmas feast secured, it was time to reacquaint ourselves with the M3. As we rejoined the road, the wind intensified, and a determined rain began to lash down. The hedgerow-hugging B-road led us across a visibly swollen River Earn, its waters bustling with salmon on their upstream journey to spawn. Sections of the road became increasingly canopied, littered with fallen branches, and water pooled at the verges – a stark reminder that this was decidedly not Morgan Super 3 weather.
The BMW’s M xDrive system, with its rear-biased, multi-plate clutch configuration and fully variable torque distribution, performed with remarkable composure. It faithfully transmitted every ounce of power to the road surface, allowing us to trace confident arcs through the turns without a hint of instability. The only discernible challenge arose when encountering standing water, at which point the CS exhibited a degree of skittishness. Even with the least track-focused of the three available tire options, it was clear we were pushing their limits.
We bypassed Crieff, instead ascending into the wilder expanse of the Sma’ Glen, a landscape painted with the vibrant hues of crimson ferns and heather. The road then climbed further into exposed uplands towards Amulree. In its most supple setting, the M3’s adaptive suspension ensured a remarkably comfortable ride, though a noticeable degree of reactivity became apparent over a few particularly bumpy sections on the descent into Dunkeld.
Despite the persistent dampness, Dunkeld revealed itself as a charming gem. Thomas Telford’s elegant seven-arch bridge gracefully spans the handsome River Tay, guiding us into the compact, ancient town. On a narrow lane leading towards the 700-year-old cathedral, we carefully shoehorned the BMW into a parking spot directly in front of “The Clootie Dumpling” café, our next crucial stop in the pursuit of our sweet course.
This delightful establishment is the brainchild of Mike and Jacinta Cairney, specializing in the eponymous Scottish spiced cake, prepared according to a cherished recipe inherited from Mike’s mother, affectionately known as Granny Margaret. “Mum would make 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 practice, he explained, was a fairly typical childhood experience, and a significant draw for many of the café’s patrons is the powerful wave of nostalgia it evokes. Clootie dumplings are also a beloved tradition at weddings and celebrations like Christmas and Hogmanay.
Jacinta kindly elucidated their preparation method. A dry mixture of flour, fat, breadcrumbs, raisins, sultanas, brown and white sugar, ginger, and spices is meticulously beaten by hand with treacle, eggs, and milk. A piece of cloth, or ‘cloot,’ is then boiled in water until scalding hot, laid out, and sprinkled with flour, forming the characteristic chewy casing of the dumpling. The spiced batter is poured onto the cloth, which is then tied securely, and the entire package is boiled for a substantial four hours. Presented with a generous, warm slice, accompanied by thick cream, the clootie dumpling proved to be a revelation – mellower and considerably lighter than traditional Christmas pudding. We departed with immense satisfaction, clutching a sizable half clootie dumpling, a sweet treasure for our festive repast.
Navigating through full storm conditions, we turned our attention eastward towards Angus, traversing saturated country roads. The sheer volume of standing water made it feel as though we were piloting an ekranoplan rather than a high-performance estate car. The subsequent 36 miles were necessarily a slow procession, undertaken in conditions of approximately 200-meter visibility. The potent 3.0-litre straight-six engine’s twin 2.1-bar turbochargers were reduced to a mere breathy sigh, their full capabilities constrained by the inclement weather.
Our arrival at South Powrie Farm, situated just north of Dundee, was met with a wonderfully warm welcome. Here, we were eager to discuss the centerpiece of our Christmas dinner with Thomas and Susannah Pate: the turkey. Their farm is one of a select few across the United Kingdom entrusted with raising the KellyBronze breed, renowned for its exceptional flavour profile. The Pates maintain a flock of 600 turkeys, which begin their lives as day-old chicks – small enough, remarkably, to fit into the back of our M3. Naturally, we would only require one for our feast, and at maturity, these magnificent birds can weigh up to a formidable 15kg. Our initial plan to meet the flock was thwarted as they had wisely sought shelter from the torrent in their field housing. Consequently, we arranged to return the following morning, hoping for a more conducive atmospheric outlook.
At precisely 8 am, we were greeted by a cacophony of clucks, squawks, and yelps as the remarkably inquisitive turkeys performed a waddling sprint to greet us in their two-acre field of interspersed woods and long grass. Their plumage was truly a spectacle of bronze-like iridescence, exhibiting a deep brown hue with an almost rainbow-like sheen. The adolescent males proudly displayed their snoods and wattles – prominent puce-colored folds of skin above and below their beaks – and unfurled their impressive tail feathers. However, gender proved no determinant of social standing; dominance was clearly established by a literal pecking order, with the more assertive birds nipping feathers from their subordinates. One particularly ambitious character even took a tentative nibble at my wellington boots, then my leg, a clear indication that a December encounter might prove more assertive. For our immediate needs, however, we secured a whole, frozen turkey.
In the immediate prelude to Christmas, the Pates engage in direct sales of fresh turkeys to the public from their farm and various collection points along the east coast. One such collection point also happens to cultivate and sell fresh vegetables, directing our next destination. We crossed the Tay Road Bridge into Fife, and at long last, an opportunity presented itself to truly exercise the M3’s considerable capabilities.
In its most potent engine setting, the CS remained largely restrained below 3000rpm. However, beyond this threshold, the acceleration that followed was so forceful and relentless that it felt almost exponential. With the exhaust flaps fully open, the rising revs were accompanied by an ever-louder, bass-heavy roar and an increasing sense of inductive aggression – dramatic, certainly, though perhaps not overtly spine-tingling. The sweeping expanse of the A92 became the M3’s natural hunting ground, devoured with pace and unwavering balance as the car seemed to meld seamlessly with the asphalt beneath.
It was less at ease on the more technical minor roads that followed, exhibiting a degree of cornering inertia and a less supple ride. Nevertheless, the experience remained exhilarating, with the supportive bolsters of the bucket seats providing secure lateral support.
With the CS thoroughly warmed to its task, we perched it outside Pittormie Fruit Farm, a compact, 35-acre operation managed by Euan Cameron and his family. The farm shop, having concluded its busy summer fruit sales, was shuttered. However, the egg shed’s trusty honesty box continued to jangle with a steady supply of winter vegetables, also distributed to local restaurants and greengrocers. Mr. Cameron espouses an appealingly laissez-faire approach to cultivation, employing minimal fertilizers and eschewing fungicides and irrigation. He expresses a distinct lack of admiration for the conformity and lack of seasonality often encountered in supermarket produce. “I don’t force things,” he stated pragmatically. “I like it to get there naturally. I don’t care if something is fugly.”
His ATV, a rugged workhorse, transported us to the vibrantly multicoloured brassica beds, where he unearthed for us a well-stocked ‘sprout tree’ of the Bosworth variety, adorned with firm, green nuggets of Christmas joy. Mr. Cameron then deftly extracted an unfamiliar, purplish-green mass of leaves from the soil – kalette, a hybrid of sprout and kale whose florets, when cooked, achieve a delightful crispness, offering a nutty alternative for those who might shy away from traditional sprouts.
We were also in the ideal location for potatoes. Utilizing an old harvester that Mr. Cameron had ingeniously re-engineered himself, a modest two-acre plot yielded an impressive 22 varieties, many of which are considered niche. His top recommendations for roasting were drier types, including Kerrs Pink and Golden Wonder, but he expressed a particular fondness for the waxier Wilja, which he favors for boiling, oiling, and air-frying. Accordingly, along with a few carrots, we loaded a generous bag of produce through the BMW’s rear hatch.
With ripe tomatoes and crisp apples to provide some en route sustenance, we continued our southward journey across Fife’s quintessential rolling farmland, navigating gorse-lined B-roads. The perpetually reliable steering proved most effective in its heavier, more intuitive ‘Sport’ mode; the lightness of the ‘Comfort’ setting felt discordant with the car’s considerable size and mass. We were carrying a respectable degree of speed, and the middle of the three available gearbox settings, in both ‘Auto’ and ‘Manual’ modes, proved to be the sweet spot. In ‘Auto,’ it maintained sufficient revs without unnecessary excursions into the upper reaches of the rev counter, while in ‘Manual,’ it offered sufficient responsiveness without the full-body contortions that could accompany upshifts in the most aggressive setting. The optional, £8800 carbon-ceramic brakes were both commendably progressive in their application and utterly ruthless in their deceleration capabilities.
The main coastal road eventually brought us to a halt as we pulled up at a converted stone stable block, the home of Futtle Brewery. The brewery derives its name from an onomatopoeic Scots word describing the sound of pebbles being thrashed by the surf. Much of the expansive, open space is occupied by gleaming stainless-steel fermenters, dedicated to the production of high-quality, unfiltered organic lagers, wheat beers, spelt beers, and pale ales. In a corner of the establishment, Ethan Russell Hogg was tending bar and curating a collection of LPs. “Our beers are fresh and different, and they take a long time to brew – six to eight weeks, sometimes longer – which results in a higher-quality beer,” he explained. Unconventionally, Futtle employs whole, raw hops rather than pellets or oil, alongside a blend of malted and unmalted grains, and locally foraged plants and seaweed for nuanced flavor profiles. Intriguingly, they also feature a ‘coolship’ – an open-topped copper vessel used for brewing Belgian lambic-style ‘wild beers,’ which ferment by absorbing ambient yeasts before aging in old cider casks. The initial two batches were slated for bottling by Christmas. For our immediate needs, we selected a bottle of cloudy but refreshingly light Table Beer, Futtle’s original ale, to accompany our meticulously assembled feast.
Our culinary expedition concluded with a final mile-long stretch to the idyllic fishing harbour of St Monans. Nestled into the harbour wall, a pastel blue, two-story building stands as the unassuming home of East Pier Smokehouse, an acclaimed yet remarkably accessible seafood restaurant. Lashed by the waves on one side, the establishment offers a breathtaking panorama. In the dining room and on the panoramic roof deck, patrons can savor freshly landed mackerel, langoustines, and lobster, caught mere yards away. The menu also features classic 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 describes the restaurant as “a small, simple affair,” but this understated description belies 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 interior walls are now richly encrusted with tar. At the bottom, a pair of angled channels are where Mr. Robb meticulously burns oak and beech sawdust for 36 to 48 hours – depending on prevailing weather conditions – to cold-smoke West Coast salmon. Compared to modern smoking machinery, this is an exceptionally temperamental, old-school approach that occasionally necessitates midnight check-ups. However, Mr. Robb has achieved mastery of this technique, producing both traditional and a striking burgundy-hued, beetroot-cured salmon, available for both restaurant service and direct public sale. I was treated to an exquisite plate featuring slices of this salmon, served with bread, butter, lemon, and capers. The resulting flavour was a sublime fusion of sweetness, smokiness, and firm texture – quite simply, the finest I have ever had the privilege to taste. It served as a truly fitting conclusion to our meticulously curated ten-component Christmas dinner – a feast born of Scotland’s finest producers, expertly and expediently delivered by Munich’s engineering prowess.
As this unique festive journey concludes, the memory of the flavors, the landscapes, and the remarkable vehicle that facilitated it all lingers. If your own culinary aspirations for the coming year involve sourcing the exceptional and experiencing the journey in unparalleled style, we invite you to explore how a vehicle like the BMW M3 CS Touring can elevate your own adventures.
