Navigating Scotland’s Festive Bounty: A BMW M3 Touring Culinary Quest
The pursuit of the perfect Christmas dinner, particularly north of the border, is an adventure in itself. For those of us in Scotland, the holiday spirit often means a personal pilgrimage to the source of our festive fare. This year, my mission, alongside photographer Max Edleston, was to curate a three-course Christmas feast, complete with all the trimmings and libations, directly from Scotland’s finest producers. Our timeline: a mere two days. Our chariot for this culinary expedition: none other than the formidable BMW M3 CS Touring.
Back in the bustling heart of Britain, it’s easy to imagine road testers exchanging keys to opulent machines over leisurely Christmas lunches. Here, however, the reality is a little more hands-on. The mountain, as they say, must come to Muhammad. And for us, that mountain was Scotland’s scattered, high-quality food producers, and Muhammad was the M3 CS Touring – a vehicle that, on paper, seemed purpose-built for this very task.
The requirements for our chosen transport were clear: ample space to stow precious cargo, the agility to navigate unpredictable Scottish weather, and a dash of spirited performance to make the journey engaging. The Met Office had, as is customary for late December in Scotland, issued a symphony of wind and rain warnings, painting a rather dramatic backdrop for our undertaking. Enter the BMW M3 CS Touring. With a cavernous 1510 litres of cargo space when the rear seats are folded, a breathtaking 0-62mph sprint in just 3.5 seconds, and a top speed nudging 186mph, coupled with a switchable all-wheel-drive system, it felt as if it had been custom-gift-wrapped for this specific challenge. This generously equipped, leather-lined, five-seat estate car is, frankly, a ludicrously capable machine. Engineered with track performance as a guiding principle, its specification sheet reads like a performance enthusiast’s dream: 543 horsepower (a 20bhp uplift from the preceding Competition model), extensive use of carbonfibre panels, a 3D-printed cylinder head, a lightweight crankshaft, upgraded suspension with rose joints, and fluid circuits designed to withstand the immense forces encountered on a race circuit.
Our initial foray, a trudge north on the M90 from Edinburgh towards Loch Leven, proved the M3 CS Touring’s dual nature. At the touch of a button, the special titanium silencer hushed to a remarkably muted level, and the suspension offered only a gentle, compliant ripple over the tarmac. The steering remained steady, and even the roar of the Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tyres – 19-inch at the front and 20-inch at the rear – was surprisingly subdued, dependent largely on the road surface.
It wasn’t long before we deviated from the motorway, diving into the secluded beauty of Glen Devon and Dunning Glen. The B934, a narrow, damp, yet delightfully smooth ribbon of tarmac, wound its way through Seussian hillsides awash in a vibrant tapestry of lush greens and rich browns. The M3 CS Touring flowed effortlessly in the gearbox’s most relaxed ‘Auto’ mode, its eight-speed ZF torque converter delivering perfectly timed, elastic shifts. Despite its considerable width, precisely two metres from mirror to mirror, the ultra-precise steering allowed for millimetre-perfect placement, a feat we appreciated particularly when navigating the domain of at least two startled red squirrels.
Cresting a rise, the substantial, modern factory of Simon Howie Butchers came into view, its operations nestled adjacent to Mr Howie’s own picture-perfect farmhouse on the outskirts of Dunning. This is a true Scottish success story. What began as a modest village butcher’s shop has expanded into a pair of branches in nearby towns, supplying major supermarkets nationwide and solidifying Simon Howie’s reputation as the UK’s largest producer of haggis. Their annual output, a staggering 1.3 million units, is consumed between Christmas and Burns Night alone – a testament to the enduring popularity of Scotland’s national dish.
Though Mr Howie himself was absent, operations manager Robbie Crook graciously welcomed us. Our first stop was the ‘pudding room’, where the very aroma of black pudding sent our appetites into overdrive. But haggis was our primary quarry. This hearty concoction, a blend of minced pork, beef, and lamb offal, oatmeal, barley, and a proprietary mix of seasonings, forms the cornerstone of our festive starter. The Simon Howie team also produces gluten-free and vegetarian variations, with Mr Crook noting that the latter often serves as a “gateway haggis” for the uninitiated. Haggis balls, dipped in batter and rolled in breadcrumbs, transform into delectable bite-sized bon-bons, a highly sought-after Christmas starter and thus, a robust foundation for our menu.
Next, we ventured into the sweet- and smoke-scented bacon room. Here, Mr Crook explained the meticulous process behind their pigs in blankets. Streaky cuts of pork belly are hand-rubbed with a dry cure, aged for up to ten days, then smoked for four to six hours over wood chips. The resultant bacon is machine-sliced and expertly wrapped around succulent pork chipolatas, creating our first mouthwatering side dish.
With two essential components of our Christmas feast secured, it was back into the M3. The wind had intensified, and the rain began to lash down with considerable force. A hedgerow-hugging B-road led us across a swollen River Earn, its waters teeming with salmon making their upstream journey to spawn. The canopied stretches of road soon became littered with falling branches, and water collected generously at the verges – a stark reminder that this was decidedly not Morgan Super 3 weather.
The BMW’s rear-biased, yet fully variable, multi-plate clutch-based M xDrive system, however, was proving its mettle. It coped brilliantly, faithfully deploying all available power and tracing confident arcs through the challenging conditions without a hint of instability. The only real challenge arose when encountering standing water, which introduced a degree of skittishness to the CS. Even with the least track-focused of the three available tyre options, they were demonstrably being pushed beyond their comfort zone in these conditions.
We bypassed Crieff, instead ascending into the rugged grandeur of the Sma’ Glen, its slopes adorned with crimson ferns and heather. The road then climbed again into an exposed upland section towards Amulree. In its supplest setting, the M3’s adaptive suspension maintained an impressive level of comfort, save for a noticeable reactivity over a couple of particularly bobbly sections on the descent into Dunkeld.
Despite the sodden conditions, Dunkeld retained its charm. Thomas Telford’s magnificent seven-arch bridge spanned the handsome River Tay, leading us into the tiny, ancient town. On a narrow lane, just yards from the 700-year-old cathedral, we deftly shoehorned the BMW in front of The Clootie Dumpling cafe, our destination for the sweet course.
Mike and Jacinta Cairney’s establishment specialises in the eponymous 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 recalls. “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 culinary experience resonates deeply with many of the cafe’s customers, and clootie dumplings are a staple at weddings, Christmas, and Hogmanay celebrations.
Jacinta meticulously described her grandmother’s process. A dry mix of flour, fat, breadcrumbs, raisins, sultanas, brown and white sugar, ginger, and spices is vigorously beaten by hand with treacle, eggs, and milk. A cloth – or ‘cloot’ – is then boiled in water to a scalding point, laid out, and sprinkled with flour, forming the cake’s distinctive chewy skin. The dumpling mixture is poured in, the cloot tied securely, and the entire concoction is then boiled for four hours. I was presented with a generous, warm slice, served with cream. It was, quite frankly, a revelation – mellower and considerably lighter than traditional Christmas pudding. We departed with a substantial half clootie dumpling, a truly delightful acquisition.
Under full storm conditions, we navigated east towards Angus on saturated country roads. The sheer volume of standing water made it feel as though we were piloting an ekranoplan, a hovercraft-like vehicle designed for low-altitude skimming. The subsequent 36 miles were necessarily a slow-moving affair, with visibility reduced to a mere 200 metres. The 3.0-litre straight-six engine’s twin mono-scroll, 2.1-bar turbos were reduced to a gentle sigh, their potent capabilities momentarily subdued by the elemental onslaught.
Our arrival at South Powrie Farm, just north of Dundee, was met with a welcome warmth that belied the meteorological onslaught. Here, we were to discuss the centrepiece of our Christmas feast – the turkey – with Thomas and Susannah Pate. Their farm is one of a select few across the UK appointed to rear the KellyBronze breed, renowned for its exceptional flavour profile. The Pates raise 600 turkeys, which arrive as day-old birds, small enough to fit comfortably in the back of our M3. However, we only required one, and these birds grow to an impressive weight of up to 15kg. We had initially planned to observe the flock, but they were wisely seeking shelter from the torrential downpour in their field shelter. We therefore arranged to return the following morning, hoping for a more clement sky.
At 8 am the next day, we were greeted by a chaotic cacophony of clucks, squawks, and yelps. The highly inquisitive turkeys performed a waddling sprint to meet us in their two-acre field of woodland and long grass. Their plumage was indeed a spectacle of bronze-like hues, exhibiting a deep brown colouration with an almost rainbow-sheened lustre. The adolescent stags sported distinctive snoods and wattles – puce globules of skin above and below their beaks – and proudly displayed their tail feathers. Interestingly, gender proved to be no predictor of social standing; this was determined by a literal pecking order, with the more dominant personalities nipping feathers from their inferiors. One particularly ambitious character even attempted a nibble at my wellington boots, and then my leg. I resolved to perhaps meet it again in late December… For now, we departed with a whole, frozen turkey.
In the immediate run-up to Christmas, the Pates sell fresh turkeys directly to the public from the farm and at various collection points along the east coast. One of these collection points also happens to grow and sell vegetables. This presented an opportune moment to visit Pittormie Fruit Farm. We crossed the Tay Road Bridge into Fife, and at last, an opportunity arose to truly stretch the M3 CS Touring’s considerable legs.
In its most aggressive engine mode, the CS typically restrains itself below 3000rpm. However, beyond this threshold, the acceleration becomes so forceful and relentless that it feels almost exponential. With the exhaust flaps open, rising revs elicit an ever-louder bass note and a mounting, inductive aggression – dramatic, certainly, though perhaps not entirely spine-tingling. The sweeping A92 proved to be the M3’s forte, allowing it to consume the road with pace and composure, the car feeling as if it were merging seamlessly with the tarmac.
On more technically challenging minor roads thereafter, the M3 was marginally less at ease, exhibiting some cornering inertia and a reduction in suppleness. Nevertheless, the experience remained riotous, with the inflatable bolsters on the bucket seats providing firm and reassuring support.
With the CS nicely warmed, we parked it outside Pittormie Fruit Farm, a compact, 35-acre site managed by Euan Cameron and his family. The farm shop was shuttered following a busy summer of fruit sales, but the honesty box at the egg shed continued to generate a steady income from its supply of winter vegetables, which are also supplied to restaurants and greengrocers. Mr Cameron espouses an appealingly laissez-faire approach to cultivation, employing minimal fertilisers, and eschewing fungicides and irrigation. He is rather uncomplimentary about the homogeneity and lack of seasonality prevalent in today’s supermarket produce. “I don’t force things,” he states. “I like it to get there naturally. I don’t care if something is fugly.”
His ATV transported us to the multicoloured brassica beds, where he unearthed for us a well-stocked Bosworth-variety sprout tree, adorned with firm, green nuggets of Christmas joy. Mr Cameron then expertly extracted an unfamiliar, purple-green mass of leaves from the soil – kalette, a sprout-kale hybrid whose florets cook to a delightful crisp, offering a nutty alternative for those who dislike traditional sprouts.
We were also in the right place for potatoes. Using an old harvester that Mr Cameron had re-engineered himself, a modest plot of just two acres yields an impressive 22 varieties, many of which are quite niche. His top picks for roasting are drier varieties, including Kerrs Pink and Golden Wonder, but the waxier Wilja is his personal favourite (prepared by boiling, oiling, and air-frying). Accordingly, along with a few carrots, we loaded a generous bag through the BMW’s rear hatch.
With tomatoes and apples to munch on en route, we continued south across Fife’s characteristic rolling farmland, navigating gorse-lined B-roads. The perpetually faithful steering consistently performed best in its heavier, more intuitive Sport mode; the lightness of Comfort mode felt somewhat mismatched to the car’s considerable size and weight. We maintained a steady pace, and the middle of the three gearbox settings, in both Auto and Manual modes, proved to be the most suitable. In Auto, it allowed sufficient revs without unnecessarily lingering in the upper reaches, while in Manual, it offered enough responsiveness without the full-body convulsions that accompany upshifts in the most aggressive setting. The optional, £8800 carbon-ceramic stoppers were both easily modulated and thoroughly ruthless when required.
The main coastal road eventually brought us to a halt. We pulled up at a converted stone stable block, now home to Futtle Brewery. The brewery’s name derives from an onomatopoeic Scots word describing pebbles being thrashed in the surf. Much of the large, open space is occupied by stainless steel fermenters, where they brew high-quality, unfiltered organic lagers, wheat beers, spelt beers, and pale ales. In a corner, Ethan Russell Hogg was tending bar and keeping the LPs spinning. “Our beers are fresh and different and take a long time to brew – six to eight weeks, sometimes more – which makes for a higher-quality beer,” he explained. Unusually, they utilise raw, whole-leaf hops rather than pellets or oil, complemented by a mix of malted and unmalted grains, and locally foraged plants and seaweed for added flavour. Intriguingly, there is also a ‘coolship’ – an open-topped copper vessel used for brewing Belgian lambic-style ‘wild beers’ that ferment by absorbing airborne yeasts before ageing in old cider casks. The first two batches were scheduled for bottling by Christmas. For our immediate needs, we procured some cloudy but light Table Beer, Futtle’s original ale, to accompany our festive feast.
Our journey concluded with a solitary mile to the idyllic fishing harbour of St Monans, where a pastel blue, two-storey building is nestled into the harbour wall. Lashed by waves on one side, East Pier Smokehouse stands as an acclaimed yet remarkably accessible seafood restaurant. In the dining room and on the panoramic roof deck, they serve mackerel, langoustines, and lobster, all landed just yards away. Their menu also features Cullen skink, crab, sea bass, octopus, and more, with takeaway options available, provided the kitchen can manage the demand. Chef and co-owner James Robb modestly refers to the restaurant as “a small, simple affair,” yet it is precisely this simplicity that highlights 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 encrusted with tar. A pair of angled channels at the bottom serve as the heart of the operation, where Mr Robb burns oak and beech sawdust for 36 to 48 hours – weather permitting – to cold-smoke West Coast salmon. Compared to modern smoking machines, this is an exceptionally fickle, old-school approach, occasionally requiring midnight check-ups. However, Mr Robb has evidently mastered the process, producing both traditional and a rich, burgundy-hued, beetroot-cured salmon for restaurant service and direct public sale. I was treated to a plate featuring slices of this extraordinary salmon, served with bread, butter, lemon, and capers. It was sweet, smoky, firm, and, without hyperbole, the finest I have ever tasted. It represented a truly fitting finale to our ten-component Christmas dinner – a culinary triumph made in Scotland, and express-delivered by Munich.
As the year draws to a close and the festive season unfolds, the pursuit of exceptional ingredients, be it for a grand feast or a simple, celebratory meal, remains a deeply rewarding endeavour. Should you find yourself inspired by this journey through Scotland’s larder and desire assistance in sourcing premium, locally produced ingredients for your own Christmas celebrations, or indeed, wish to explore how a vehicle like the BMW M3 CS Touring can enhance your own unique adventures, we invite you to connect with our team of automotive and culinary specialists. Let us help you craft an unforgettable experience.
