My first secondary school cookery lesson was an occasion I had been looking forward to for months. I was longing to learn to cook "properly’, even though I was told in no uncertain terms, that I would not be taking lessons all the way through school. Domestic science, as it was called in the 1960s, was not something that a person with academic potential was supposed to study beyond first or second year, at the most. And the Edinburgh institution that was to be my font of all knowledge over the ensuing five years was definitely not inclined towards preparing modern young ladies to be cooks – sadly.

That day, we made a genteel cup of cocoa and buttered toast. This seemed a little bit lame, but I did learn some useful tips that day, despite my disappointment. The second lesson was devoted to preparing a winter salad using finely shredded white cabbage, grated carrot and cooking apple – with raisins. A few knife skills kicked into action, but still nothing terribly inspiring for an adventurous 12-year-old who had been helping in the kitchen since aged three.

The third lesson was much more of a success story. On this occasion, we made eggs mornay. The classroom recipe consisted of hard-boiled eggs, shelled and halved length-wise, laid cut-side down into an oven-proof dish, covered with cheese sauce, sprinkled with a pinch of cayenne pepper, browned under the grill and served. I had helped to make cheese sauce for the family’s favourite macaroni cheese before, but this seemed a great deal more sophisticated. The finished dish was very tasty and feeling inspired, I rushed home after school to announce that I was making the tea that night – and no help was required, thank you.

When the time came to serve the family supper, there was great anticipation and even a hint of approval from my older sisters. The dish looked very good, sitting ceremoniously in the centre of the table ready to be served. Alas, their obvious disappointment left me with a huge sense of anti-climax. Even my mum and dad could not hide their bemusement. Half an egg plus a spoonful of cheese sauce did not make a meal for a hungry family. Pride in my perfect presentation soon dissolved in a sprawl of extra plates and knives, bread, butter and jam, to fill the gap. My blushes were spared by mum’s explanation of how recipes were not just to be followed, but must always be adapted to suit the occasion and the number of people eating at the table.

By all accounts, the name "mornay" derives from a Paris restaurant where the sauce was introduced in the early 1800s and is likely attributable to a person’s name, as opposed to a place. It was derived as a sauce for coating vegetables, fish, shellfish or poached eggs. By its original definition, the sauce is a basic béchamel, or white sauce, enriched with egg yolks and flavoured with grated Gruyère cheese. In other words, cheese sauce. No doubt, using a French name made the dish sound greatly more adventurous, but acquiring the skill of making a good cheese sauce has certainly remained one of the most useful recipes I have carried in my head, ever since.

I would have liked nothing better than to have been encouraged to study cookery at school and to have been able to consider it as a career choice. Sadly, this was not to be. When Eddie and I bought The Three Chimneys and announced we were moving to Skye, my mother was incredulous. Why on earth did I want to slave over a hot stove when the world could be my oyster?

It is sad how cooking, serving and championing great Scottish food still fails to be fully recognised as a worthwhile career for our young people. Like me, not everyone is destined – nor wants – to go to university and continue studying ad infinitum. The grown-up world of work and earning a living is also an exciting option for some and well worth encouraging.

Nowadays there is an outstanding range of careers across Scotland’s thriving food and drink industry. But whatever their choice of further study and career, if we are to equip children for life as adults and parents to the next generation, we must teach them everything about food and food production, nutrition and crucially, how to prepare, cook and serve it. Learning to cook throughout school years is something I am passionate about, but there seem to be inconsistencies in the level of cookery education provided around the country. Although there are some highly successful projects and many people devoting their working lives to spreading knowledge and enthusiasm, some areas fare better than others. Timetabling has altered a lot in recent years, inhibiting the amount of time spent in practical cookery lessons. Some schools have paired cookery lessons with sport under the umbrella of health, with the head of department being much more at home in the gym or on a sports field than in a kitchen environment. I am unhappy that learning to cook is not given the level of importance it should have, particularly as the obesity crisis we are trying to turn around in Scotland, frequently stems from lack of basic knowledge and home-life experience. We must do better.

All of us should eat many more fresh vegetables than we do on average, at present. I am keen to encourage introducing these in easy, inexpensive ways. Cauliflower cheese is a great family favourite for many people. In the recipe below I have expanded the dish by adding a head of broccoli. Don’t think twice about using up any leftover mushrooms, courgettes, peppers, celery, leek and tomatoes in the dish too. I hope the cheese sauce recipe is one you will put to use in many other dishes. Including onion in it is delicious with all the usual pasta dishes. This is definitely a dish to adapt to suit your own family table and teach your children to cook for themselves.

Cauliflower & broccoli cheese

(Serves 4-6)

1 large cauliflower

1 head of broccoli

1 medium onion

1 bay leaf

1 level tsp cooking salt

50g Scottish butter

450g mature, Scottish cheddar cheese (or variety of your preferred choice), plus 1 tbsp extra grated cheese mixed with the same quantity of dried white breadcrumbs for the topping

50g plain flour

1 rounded tsp mustard powder

1 pint full-cream milk

2 egg yolks

Sliced tomatoes for garnish (optional)

Method

1. Cut off the base of the cauliflower and broccoli. Remove the toughest green leaves, but retain any small ones. Divide into smaller florets, placing them in a colander as you remove each one. Rinse thoroughly under cold running water and set aside.

2. Peel and chop the onion very finely.

3. Grate the cheese on the coarse side of the grater.

4. Half-fill a large saucepan with salted water, add the bay leaf and bring to boil.

5. Add cauliflower to the saucepan, return to the boil then reduce heat to a simmer for five minutes. Add broccoli, return to boiling point and simmer for approximately three minutes. The stems of both the cauliflower and the broccoli should be easy to pierce with the point of a sharp knife, but remain "al dente". Carefully strain the cooked vegetables and set aside to drain in a colander. The aim is to retain the firm shape of the florets.

6. Melt the butter in a heavy-based saucepan. Add the finely chopped onion, stir until well coated and cook until soft, but not coloured.

7. Sieve flour and mustard powder together over the softened onion and stir well. The consistency should be of a thick paste.

8. Gradually pour the milk over the onion mixture, stirring all the time. The sauce will thicken gradually and should be stirred slowly and continuously as it does, to avoid lumps forming.

9. Add the grated cheese to the thickening sauce and stir until it melts. Check seasoning, adding salt and pepper if required.

10. The sauce will be reaching boiling point and bubbling around the edges. Turn down heat to a very low simmer and allow the sauce to continue cooking for another five minutes, stirring occasionally.

11. Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks in a small bowl.

12. When the sauce is hot, pour a small quantity on top of the whisked egg yolks and whisk again immediately. Return all the egg mixture back into the pan of sauce and stir again. The egg yolks will make the sauce thicken further and become very glossy. However, keep stirring to avoid the egg yolk curdling. The sauce should coat the back of your wooden spoon evenly and when you draw your forefinger through the sauce on the spoon, it should leave a clear pathway. Turn off the heat.

13. Finally, place the drained vegetables in an oven-proof dish. Pour over the finished sauce. Garnish with sliced tomatoes, if liked. Sprinkle the cheese and breadcrumb topping over the surface and place in a hot oven or under a hot grill until golden brown.

Shirley Spear is owner of The Three Chimneys and The House Over-By on the Isle of Skye. See threechimneys.co.uk