I first arrived in the village of Carrbridge in the Scottish Highlands armed with a vague plan to find the Chieftain of the Golden Spurtle, Charlie Miller. On a rainy Sunday morning, with no idea how else to begin, I wandered into morning mass in the local chapel. I sat at the back and copped a few inquisitive glances from various churchgoers. After the service, I was invited for tea and a biscuit in the church’s back room by some parishioners who decided they would lead me down the main road to Charlie’s house.
I found myself on his couch, again holding another cup of tea. The first question posed to me by the soon-to-be outgoing Chieftain, with a mug resting on one knee and a small tower of biscuits miraculously balanced on the other, was dry and direct as he leaned in close to me: “What are your intentions?”
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That question led me into an obsession with porridge, competitive porridge-making, and documenting the village that champions the foodstuff that built a nation.
Porridge is no small thing in Scottish history. Archaeological evidence suggests that oats were being consumed by Stone Age communities of the Outer Hebrides. The Romans then are credited with bringing domesticated oats to Britain in the first century CE.
By the Middle Ages, porridge had become synonymous with the Scottish table, prepared not only as a warming breakfast but also cooled, cut into slabs, and carried into the fields as portable fuel for long days of work. Porridge is a dish that reflected Scotland’s landscape and resourcefulness, and it remained a constant presence woven into folklore, poetry and national identity.
