It's pretty well universally acknowledged that Scotland has a long history of regional homebaking, a tradition that goes back to crofting days and earlier (shortbread is recorded to have been made in the 12th century with girdle-cooked bannocks, scones and oatcakes not far behind).

The 19th century saw Scottish baking on a commercial scale come into its own as coffee shops gave way to tearooms laden with pancakes, scones, Dundee cake, shortbread and fancies. It's said Queen Victoria endorsed the new trend by taking Selkirk bannock and tea on a visit to Sir Walter Scott's daughter at Abbotsford House.

Recognising our part in the story is all very worthy but it does not, in my view, excuse the latter-day rush to the dubious joys of flour, butter and sugar by women - and men - wearing stupid pinnies.

Whipped into a frenzy by a certain long-running televised baking contest, they rush to equip themselves with the latest gadgets and ideas. But they seem to have forgotten that the ridiculously blowsy cupcakes, meringues and marshmallows they strive to perfect have little to do with the traditional - relatively self-effacing - Scottish baking that is unique and precious to our culinary culture.

That's why I'm so relieved that, just as the frenzy starts to build in anticipation of the fifth series of BBC Two's Great British Bake-Off next month, along comes soothing news of the upcoming Scottish Baking Awards in Bishopton, Renfrewshire, in late September.

Established in 2009 and "run by experts, not executives", these cover both commercial and homemade products, and are driven by online nominations in 10 categories - including best homebaker, best bakery, tearoom, coffee shop, cafe, restaurant and supermarket bakery product - from ordinary people.

Individual amateurs, college students and school pupils can enter sugarcraft, chocolate and novelty cakes categories. These awards are growing in popularity among the grassroots baking community, and attract respected Scots judges such as Claire Macdonald last year; and the former Masterchef winner Sue Lawrence, the home economist Cecilia Young, and the Scots-Italian American food blogger Christina Conte this year.

Another relatively unsung competition is the Scottish Baker of the Year Awards, an annual competition devised by the Scottish Association of Master Bakers (SAMB) which was established in 1891 to raise awareness of the bakery industry and to recognise the skills of those unsung men and women who bake for a living. (Interestingly, the SAMB also runs the Tattie Scone championships, won last month by Mary Greer of Forres.) For this year's Baker awards in May, 20,000 customers voted for their favourite bakery products across six categories. More than 100 bakers produced 600 of the most popular items for judging by 40 industry experts; Ashers of Nairn (established in 1877) came top overall, though there were winners of gold, silver and bronze in all categories across three regions of Scotland, with such nostalgic items as birthday slice, empire biscuits, fruit scones, bran quarters, savoury, morning rolls and butteries.

Compare this humble fare to what's being made today and it's all too obvious that network television exposure creates an apparently endless stream of commercial spin-offs - and not all of them for the good. This week a new all-singing, all-dancing recipe book landed on my desk. It contains 50 recipes for gourmet artisan (ie homemade) ice lollies. They're gorgeous to look at - real eye candy - but come with a massive downside. Granulated sugar is the top or second ingredient in nearly every recipe. Amounts average 100g to 150g for 10 lollies, though a cranberry and orange recipe requires 160g sugar plus an extra two tablespoons' worth; another a whopping 175g; and worst of all, a raspberry and lime version needs 210g of sugar.

And another fancy recipe book for marshmallows requires 300g of caster sugar plus glucose syrup just for the basic marshmallow recipe; flavours and toppings are additional. With a heart sinking as fast as a soor ploom, I also learn that there's to be another sugar-based recipe book published in August, to tie in with a TV series called Sweets Made Simple. It will offer 80 recipes for such "childhood classics" as English butter toffee, leather roll-ups, sherbert dip and popcorn alongside such dubious goodies as Black Forest fudge. That's not all. There's yet another book for this month, for sweet (and savoury) pâtés including fruit curd, chocolate, caramel and praline spreads.

By contrast to the fanfare accompanying these launches, Sue Lawrence's more restrained Scottish Baking was also published this week.

I can see that a pile of pancakes, soda scones or a plain rhubarb tart might not have the same visual appeal of a peanut butter and jam marshmallow.

But when it comes to choosing between style over substance, I know which one I prefer.