Scotland’s Festive Feast: A Culinary Pilgrimage in the Shadow of the BMW M3 CS Touring
A decade navigating the automotive landscape has taught me this: the pursuit of excellence, whether in engineering or gastronomy, demands a unique blend of precision, passion, and purpose. This holiday season, tasked with assembling the cornerstones of a traditional Scottish Christmas dinner, my journey took me not to the hallowed halls of automotive journalists exchanging pleasantries over mulled wine, but deep into the heart of Scotland’s artisanal producers. And for this epicurean expedition, my trusted steed was none other than the formidable BMW M3 CS Touring – a machine as adept at conquering Scottish byways as it is at delivering unparalleled driving pleasure.
The mission was clear: two days, a photographer, and a blank slate for a three-course festive meal, complete with all the trimmings. Unlike my colleagues enjoying the comforts of London’s plush establishments, in Scotland, the mountain must come to Muhammad. This meant traversing rugged landscapes and unpredictable weather, making the choice of vehicle paramount. A quaint, open-top roadster simply wouldn’t suffice for transporting prize-winning turkeys and delicately prepared puddings. We needed space, performance, and the agility to navigate challenging conditions. Enter the BMW M3 CS Touring.
Its capacious 1510-liter cargo hold (with seats folded) offered ample room for our bounty, while its blistering 3.5-second sprint to 62 mph and 186 mph top speed promised swift progress. More importantly, its switchable all-wheel-drive system provided the crucial security needed to tackle Scotland’s notoriously capricious weather. This generously equipped, leather-lined estate car, a frankly audacious fusion of track-honed performance and everyday practicality, was, in essence, gift-wrapped for this very task.
The M3 CS Touring is a marvel of engineering, boasting a 543 bhp output (a 20 bhp uplift over its predecessor), carbon fibre construction, a 3D-printed cylinder head, and a lightweight crankshaft. The suspension, replete with added rose joints, and fluid circuits engineered to withstand G-forces encountered on a racetrack, hinted at its serious performance credentials. Yet, on our initial foray north on the M90 from Edinburgh towards Loch Leven, it proved remarkably restrained. The special titanium silencer, hushed at the touch of a button, combined with a muted suspension and steady steering, ensured a civilized start. Only the occasional roar from the Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tires, 19 inches at the front and 20 at the rear, served as a reminder of the latent power beneath.
Our route soon veered off the motorway, leading us into the secluded beauty of Glen Devon and Dunning Glen. The B934, damp and narrow but wonderfully smooth, twisted and turned through wooded hillsides painted in a symphony of greens and browns, reminiscent of a Dr. Seuss illustration. In the gearbox’s gentlest Auto mode, the M3 flowed effortlessly. The eight-speed ZF torque converter delivered beautifully timed, elastic shifts, and despite its two-meter width, the car’s ultra-precise steering allowed for pinpoint placement, saving at least two startled red squirrels from a close encounter.
Cresting a rise, the substantial premises of Simon Howie Butchers appeared on the outskirts of Dunning, adjacent to Mr. Howie’s idyllic farmhouse. This is a true Scottish success story. What began as a modest village butcher’s shop has blossomed into a multi-branch operation, supplying major supermarkets and holding the title of the UK’s largest haggis producer, churning out an astonishing 1.3 million units between Christmas and Burns Night.
Though the proprietor was absent, operations manager Robbie Crook graciously welcomed us. Our first stop was the “pudding room,” where the rich aroma of black pudding was enough to stir an appetite. However, our primary objective was haggis. This quintessential Scottish dish, a robust blend of minced pork, beef, and lamb offal, oatmeal, barley, and a proprietary mix of seasonings, forms the heart of our festive menu. Simon Howie also offers gluten-free and vegetarian varieties, with Mr. Crook noting that the latter often serves as a “gateway haggis” for the uninitiated. Their haggis balls, coated in batter and breadcrumbs, offer a delightful, bite-sized appetizer.
Next, we ventured into the sweet and smoke-scented bacon room. Here, Mr. Crook explained the meticulous process of crafting their pigs in blankets. Pork belly strips are hand-rubbed with a dry cure, aged for up to ten days, then smoked for four to six hours over wood chips. These cured, smoky strips are then machine-sliced and artfully wrapped around plump pork chipolatas, promising a mouthwatering side dish.
With two essential components secured, we re-entered the M3. The wind intensified, and rain began to lash down. The hedgerow-hugging B-road led us across a swollen River Earn, its waters teeming with salmon migrating upstream. Glimpses of canopied sections of road revealed falling branches, and water collected at the verges – definitively not Morgan Super 3 weather.
The BMW’s rear-biased, yet fully variable, multi-plate clutch M xDrive system performed admirably, confidently laying down power and tracing arcs without a hint of hesitation. The only concession to the conditions was a degree of skittishness on standing water, a reminder that even the most capable tires can be pushed beyond their limits.
We bypassed Crieff, ascending into the rugged beauty of the Sma’ Glen, adorned with crimson ferns and heather. The landscape opened into exposed uplands towards Amulree. In its supplest setting, the M3’s adaptive suspension provided a comfortable ride, save for a noticeable reactivity over a few bumpy sections on the descent into Dunkeld.
Despite the sodden conditions, Dunkeld captivated. Thomas Telford’s elegant seven-arch bridge gracefully spans the handsome River Tay, leading us into the tiny, ancient town. On a narrow lane leading to the 700-year-old cathedral, we artfully positioned the BMW in front of The Clootie Dumpling café, our destination for the sweet course.
Mike and Jacinta Cairney’s establishment specializes in the traditional Scottish spiced cake, made to a treasured family recipe. “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 nostalgic connection is a powerful draw for many of their customers, and clootie dumplings are a staple at weddings, Christmas, and Hogmanay celebrations.
Jacinta meticulously described the preparation: a dry mix of flour, fat, breadcrumbs, raisins, sultanas, sugars, ginger, and spices, all beaten by hand with treacle, eggs, and milk. A cloth, or ‘cloot,’ is scalded in water, then laid out and floured to form the characteristic chewy skin. The dumpling mixture is poured in, the cloot tied securely, and the entire concoction boiled for four hours. Presented with a generous, warm slice, accompanied by cream, it was a revelation. Milder and far lighter than traditional Christmas pudding, we departed with a substantial half clootie dumpling, a testament to its deliciousness.
The journey east into Angus was undertaken in full storm conditions, navigating saturated country roads. So much standing water made it feel as though we were piloting an ekranoplan. Progress was necessarily slow through the 200-meter visibility, the 3.0-litre straight-six engine’s twin 2.1-bar turbos reduced to a gentle sigh.
A welcome respite awaited us at South Powrie Farm, just north of Dundee, where we met Thomas and Susannah Pate, purveyors of the prized KellyBronze turkey. Their farm is one of a select few in the UK entrusted with rearing this exceptional breed, renowned for its superior flavor. The Pates keep 600 turkeys, which arrive as day-old chicks that could comfortably fit in the back of the M3. We, however, only required one, destined to grow to a formidable 15kg. Our planned encounter with the flock was thwarted by their wisdom in seeking shelter from the downpour, so we rescheduled for the following morning, hoping for clearer skies.
At 8 am, we were greeted by a cacophony of clucks, squawks, and yelps as the remarkably inquisitive turkeys descended in a waddling sprint to meet us in their two-acre field of woods and long grass. Their plumage, a true testament to the KellyBronze breed, shimmered with deep brown, almost rainbow-hued iridescence. The adolescent stags sported prominent snoods and wattles, their tail feathers proudly displayed. However, gender was no indicator of social standing; a strict pecking order dictated dominance, with the more assertive birds nipping at their inferiors. One particularly ambitious individual even sampled my wellies, then my leg, a playful reminder of the challenges ahead. We departed with a whole frozen turkey, a significant addition to our festive larder.
In the days leading up to Christmas, the Pates sell fresh turkeys directly to the public from their farm and at various collection points along the east coast. One such point also offered locally grown vegetables, providing our next stop. Crossing the Tay Road Bridge into Fife, we finally encountered an opportunity to truly unleash the M3’s performance.
In its most aggressive engine setting, the CS is largely reined in below 3000 rpm. However, beyond that threshold, the acceleration is so potent and relentless that it feels almost exponential. With the exhaust flaps open, rising revs unleash a crescendo of bass and an intoxicating inductive aggression – dramatic, indeed, though perhaps not entirely spine-tingling. The sweeping A92 proved an ideal playground, the M3 devouring the tarmac with effortless pace and composure, its chassis seemingly melding with the surface.
While less at ease on more technical minor roads, exhibiting a degree of cornering inertia and a less compliant ride, the experience remained riotous, the M3’s aggressively bolstered bucket seats holding us firmly in place.
With the CS pleasantly warmed, we pulled up at Pittormie Fruit Farm, a compact 35-acre site managed by Euan Cameron and his family. Though the shop was closed after a bustling summer of fruit sales, their honesty box for eggs remained a steady income stream, supplemented by sales of winter vegetables to restaurants and greengrocers. Mr. Cameron champions a refreshingly laissez-faire approach to cultivation, utilizing minimal fertilizers, fungicides, and irrigation. He laments the conformity and lack of seasonality in supermarket produce. “I don’t force things,” he stated plainly. “I like it to get there naturally. I don’t care if something is fugly.”
His ATV conveyed us to the vibrant brassica beds, where he unearthed a well-stocked ‘sprout tree’ of the Bosworth variety, laden with firm, green nuggets of Christmas joy. He then revealed an unfamiliar, purple-green mass of leaves – kalette, a Brussels sprout and kale hybrid whose florets cook to a delightful crisp, offering a nutty alternative for sprout-averse diners.
Pittormie also proved to be an excellent source for potatoes. Utilizing a self-re-engineered old harvester, a modest two-acre plot yields an impressive 22 varieties, many of them niche. For roasting, his top recommendations are drier types such as Kerrs Pink and Golden Wonder, but his personal favorite, for boiling, oiling, and air-frying, is the waxier Wilja. Along with a few carrots, a generous bag of produce was loaded through the BMW’s rear hatch.
With tomatoes and apples for in-transit snacking, we continued south across Fife’s rolling farmland, navigating gorse-lined B-roads. The perpetually faithful steering is at its best in its heavier, intuitive Sport mode; the lightness of Comfort mode felt incongruous with the car’s considerable size and weight. We maintained a steady pace, finding the middle of the three gearbox settings, in both Auto and Manual modes, to be ideal. In Auto, it allowed sufficient revs without unnecessarily lingering in the upper reaches, while in Manual, it provided responsive shifts without the full-body convulsions associated with the most aggressive setting. The optional £8800 carbon-ceramic brakes proved both easily modulated and thoroughly ruthless, offering immense confidence.
Our route eventually met the main coast road, leading us to a converted stone stable block housing Futtle Brewery, aptly named for the Scots word describing pebbles tossed by the surf. Within the spacious, open room, stainless steel fermenters churned out high-quality, unfiltered organic lagers, wheat beers, spelt beers, and pale ales. In a corner, Ethan Russell Hogg tended bar, curating the vinyl collection. “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. Unusually, they employ whole-leaf hops rather than pellets or oil, a blend of malted and unmalted grains, and locally foraged plants and seaweed for flavor. Intriguingly, a ‘coolship’ – an open-topped copper vessel – is used for brewing Belgian lambic-style ‘wild beers,’ which ferment by absorbing airborne yeasts before ageing in old cider casks. The first two batches were destined for bottling by Christmas, and we secured a bottle of Futtle’s original ale, a cloudy but light Table Beer, to accompany our feast.
Our culinary pilgrimage concluded with a final mile to the idyllic fishing harbour of St Monans. Nestled into the harbour wall, in a pastel blue, two-story building buffeted by waves, is East Pier Smokehouse. This acclaimed yet accessible seafood restaurant serves mackerel, langoustines, and lobster landed just yards away, alongside Cullen skink, crab, sea bass, and octopus. Takeaway is available, if the kitchen can accommodate. Chef and co-owner James Robb modestly described the restaurant as “a small, simple affair,” but its most unique feature was certainly that: a traditional smoker, no larger than a cupboard, opening directly onto the street.
In continuous use since the 1940s, its walls are now encrusted with tar. At the bottom, a pair of angled channels allow Mr. Robb to burn oak and beech sawdust for 36 to 48 hours – weather dependent – to cold-smoke West Coast salmon. Compared to modern smoking machines, this is an exceptionally fickle, old-school approach, sometimes necessitating midnight check-ups. Yet, Mr. Robb has mastered the process, producing both traditional and a striking burgundy-hued, beetroot-cured salmon for restaurant service and direct sale.
I was treated to a plate of this exquisite salmon, served with bread, butter, lemon, and capers. The result was sweet, smoky, firm, and unequivocally the finest I have ever tasted. It was the perfect conclusion to our ten-element Christmas dinner – a feast crafted in Scotland, express-delivered by Munich.
This journey, a testament to the enduring appeal of artisanal food production and the exhilarating capability of the BMW M3 CS Touring, underscored the profound connection between quality ingredients and exceptional experiences. From the robust heartiness of haggis to the delicate smokiness of perfectly cured salmon, each element told a story of dedication and tradition. As you plan your own festive gatherings, consider venturing beyond the ordinary. Explore the local producers in your community, uncover their stories, and savor the authentic flavors that make the season truly special. Let this narrative inspire your own culinary adventures, whether you have a high-performance estate car at your disposal or simply a desire to seek out the best.
