A look at Scotland's culinary history
"We fry in bronze deodorised beef dripping," reads a laminated sign behind the counter at the Carron Fish Bar in Stonehaven on Scotland's east coast.
It's unclear whether this is supposed to deter or encourage more custom, but on a bright Tuesday afternoon, the place could not be busier. About half of the people in there are tourists, tall Germanic types mostly, all of whom order the same thing. An almost perfectly spherical woman behind the till knows what they want before they've asked for it.
Another laminated page – closer to the door, less grease-spattered – details the reason the Carron is never entirely quiet; in various fonts, at various sizes, it tells the tale of one of the most unfortunate moments in Scottish history.
The story goes that in 1992 two schoolboys, daring each other to do something stupid, bet one another that they wouldn't eat something disgusting. In a moment of vile inspiration, one suggested a battered chocolate bar. The wager was accepted, the owners of the nearest chippie agreed to aid in the idiocy, and that was that – a new dish was born.
"Ordered by John Twaddle, cooked by Evelyn Balgowan and eaten by Brian McDonald," reads the epitaph inside the Carron. "That is the true story of the deep-fried Mars bar."
The national newspapers picked it up in 1995, before the internet had really taken hold, but something about the detail struck a major chord and the story became what we'd now call viral.
Since then, the deep-fried Mars bar has become an unfortunate emblem of Scotland, a byword for unhealthy living and a rod with which to beat the entire nation. But the truth is, the deep-fried Mars was never that popular, and outside of the Carron, you'd be hard pushed to find it in many places today (even if molten chocolate and caramel with a salty exterior does sounds like something you might find on a fancy menu in a fancy restaurant).
But nonetheless, it's what the bar represents that's hard to justify and defend – especially when so many top chefs seem to be queuing up to praise Scottish produce.
Take celebrated American chef Anthony Bourdain: "Scotland is, and deserves to be, a premiere site for enlightened tourism. It's beautiful. The food – particularly the game, the seafood and the cheese – is superb."
He's not alone in that kind of praise. Television chef Michel Roux, years ago, was similarly effusive about Scottish produce, insisting that he used produce from Scotland whenever possible at his establishments in London. But he felt that Scottish chefs were let down by what they chose to do with those ingredients.
"Perhaps Michel was trying to be a bit diplomatic but, while Scotland has always had amazing, world-class ingredients, we just didn't have enough good chefs," says Andrew Fairlie in his eponymous restaurant in Gleneagles Hotel in central Scotland. "But in the time since, the standard of cooking within Scotland has changed beyond all recognition.
"You go to Edinburgh, and there are some fantastic restaurants at the top end, and now in the middle, too. Exciting things are happening in Glasgow as well."
You could argue that more than anyone else in the country, Fairlie knows what he's talking about. As the only holder of two Michelin stars in Scotland (there are no restaurants with three) he is the nation's most decorated chef. Eat at his place and it's easy to believe that those are the best bites on offer anywhere in Old Caledonia.
These days he has a 1.2-hectare walled garden with four full-time gardeners to grow as much as possible, not just locally, but on-site. Of course, there are still occasions when elements of dishes have to be imported – good luck growing the mango which pops up midway through the degustation menu anywhere in Scotland – but most ingredients are from within his country's borders.
"I know that Tom makes a big thing of home-grown ingredients – from nature to plate – and that's been a great strapline for him, but without being cynical about it, I think that chefs should be doing that anyway, especially chefs in Scotland," says Fairlie. "There's no real excuse for going elsewhere."
The Tom he's referring to is fellow Scottish chef and Michelin-star holder Tom Kitchin, whose hugely successful Edinburgh restaurants have seen him become the face of the nation's fare. While he tries not to let his television work get in the way of his restaurant – he appears regularly on BBC shows such as MasterChef and Saturday Kitchen – his profile has undoubtedly risen in the nine years since he opened his restaurant in the Leith area.
Today it is a beacon for the best of Scottish produce and the meals are presented with a little map of Scotland showing from which part of the country each ingredient hails.
"I'm very proud to be Scottish, but as a young chef I went away to learn from the masters," says Kitchin. "From travelling and working in France for many years, I came back and used the produce here, but my cooking techniques are heaped in traditional French gastronomy."
Perhaps it's better not to look at Scotland as a finished dish, but as an enormous larder, one which more and more people are looking to raid. Ayrshire is renowned for its ham, Loch Fyne for its oysters, far-flung Stornoway for its black pudding. The salmon industry is the largest in Europe, worth more than $1.2 billion; the whisky industry is worth seven times that. Now, finally, punters and chefs alike are realising that it doesn't take an intergalactic leap of imagination to think beyond Mars.
Written by John Golder. First appeared on Stuff.co.nz.
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