We were very lucky to have a car throughout my childhood, due to a family inheritance. Dad bought it in 1952 just before I was born and it remained his ticket to ride until I was in my teens. It was a dusky green Austin Hereford with brown leather bench seats, a column change on the steering wheel and semaphore indicators that flicked out on either side between the wind-down windows. My baby brother was allowed to sit between Mum and Dad in the front, whilst my three sisters and I sat together in the back, usually arguing about elbows or who was taking-up an unfair amount of space and always hot and bothered. Dad smoked his pipe continuously when he was driving and we were only allowed to open the quarter lights – in the front – for fresh air. There were no seat belts.

The boot lid opened downwards. Everything imaginable was packed inside it for family holidays, including tennis rackets and cricket bats for beach games, buckets and spades, wellies and raincoats, old towels for the beach and ex-army groundsheets. To finish, a huge, solid trunk as wide as the car, full of all our clothes was strapped to the open boot lid with our long skipping rope. Off we went, excited about the journey to wherever Mum had booked the holiday in Scotland that year. I expect she was always relieved to get going!

I have vivid memories of those journeys, which usually started with queuing for the car ferry to Fife from South Queensferry in the shadow of the magnificent Forth Rail Bridge. In 1959 we were heading for Gairloch in the north west Highlands. The journey took us through Glencoe, across the Ballachulish ferry and Stromeferry, from whence we arrived very late at night to a cool welcome from our guest house landladies. Dressed in scary black from head to toe, they served us in grim silence with mince and tatties for our supper and we were hastened off to bed immediately. The next morning we were provided with jugs of warm water to wash in from the wide, china bowl in each of our shared rooms. Baths were a luxury and cost an extra sixpence. Mum was so mad, she made us bath one after the other, to save water – and extra expense.

But that long, late journey had been a magical one. I remember so much of it to this day. The lunchtime picnic was the best part, as always, when we stopped at the roadside and dug out the biscuit tins from the boot of the car. These contained the rolls bought from the bakers in Peebles High Street early that morning and had been turned into cheese and lettuce sandwiches for the day’s travelling ahead. I had helped to make the rolls of course, eager to get us all on the road on another magical mystery tour.

The current West Highland Way from Crianlarich to Fort William follows much of what was the original single-track road. When I drive through this awesome part of Scotland today, I can see many traces of the roads we drove on when I was a child. Running across the moors and beneath the magnificent mountain scenery, they wind and twist, ride and fall, passing fast flowing, peat-coloured burns and tumbling waterfalls. We stopped in Glencoe and climbed a few feet uphill, away from the road, carrying the precious biscuit tins, a flask and bottle of pre-diluted orange squash with us. Throwing ourselves on the heather and grass, we delighted in the freedom of the spectacular views and blue skies above. Mum adored the Highlands and taught me so much about the wild flowers and scenery all around us as we travelled in that car, keeping our ‘eyes peeled’ for anything of note to talk about en-route. That year, on holiday in late July, she also introduced me to wild blaeberries.

“Can I eat them?” I asked in surprise as she pointed out the little short shrubs growing all around us on that hillside. One taste of the blue-black berry, which released deep purple juice on my fingertips as I pulled it from underneath the tiny leaves and popped it into my mouth, was sensational. The experience of that sharp, fresh tingle of a wild Scottish berry is still my favourite taste of summer and probably what Highlanders looked forward to eating every year in days gone by, with equal relish as the warmth of the summer sun.

Many Scottish families would have made Cranachan to accompany the berries they picked. Wild raspberries and redcurrants were also prevalent and heather honey was a sweet gift from the bees. Oatmeal was an everyday ingredient used in numerous ways. Whisky became a popular addition on special occasions. Collecting wild raspberries along the disused railway tracks is another childhood memory of my school summer holidays. Brambles came later in the year, but all of these wild fruits, which Scottish chefs love to forage nowadays, were part-and-parcel of growing-up in Scotland. A day-out picking cultivated raspberries and blackcurrants is a truly enjoyable family activity and making jam when you get home is fun to do. A jammy piece with homemade jam enjoyed later in the year is a delicious reminder of summertime.

I still have a favourite place to stop the car and pick wild blaeberries when driving to Skye from Edinburgh, as I do frequently these days. I take them for Scott Davies, our Head Chef, to use in the restaurant. They could result in a wonderful sauce for a game dish, or in a dessert with chocolate, or perhaps his own modern take upon Cranachan, as per my personal recipe below. Heather honey and Skye’s own Talisker malt whisky - the peaty, golden spirit of Skye - is an unbeatable combination of flavours, especially when mixed with Scottish berries of any combination, but excluding cultivated strawberries, which I keep for different, special things of summer. Any honey or whisky can be used in this recipe, if these specific ingredients are not available easily, but I promise you that this particular combination is magic!

TALISKER & HEATHER HONEY CRANACHAN

Serves 4

Ingredients

300ml fresh double cream

1 tbsp thick heather honey

1 generous tbsp Talisker malt whisky

1 heaped tbsp toasted medium oatmeal (not ‘fine’ or ‘pinhead’ oatmeal or rolled oats)

2 punnets (approx 200g) fresh Scottish raspberries, or combination of berries in season

Method

1. Whisk the cream together with the honey and whisky until thick, but still floppy.

2. Fold in the oatmeal. This will thicken the cream a little more.

3. Wash the fruit and divide it between four serving glasses.

4. Pile the Cranachan on top of the raspberries and serve.

To toast the oatmeal

Spread a thin layer of medium oatmeal over a flat baking tray and leave in the bottom of a warm oven until it darkens in colour. Once cooled, the oatmeal can be stored in an airtight container and used when required. It smells wonderful when it is toasting. It’s great sprinkled as a topping for mashed potato on a shepherd’s pie, or stirred into potato soup, or mussel brose as a last minute thickening ingredient. Very tasty!