It's a sign of the times that the latest darling of the foodie scene is one of the oldest, humblest (some would say unhealthiest) homegrown foods imaginable. Beef dripping – pure rendered animal fat – has burst onto the gourmet scene and straight into the adoring gaze of the foodie elite. It follows the surprise elevation of Angus and Hereford dripping from James Wheelan Butchers of County Tipperary to the hallowed status of Supreme Champion at the recent annual Great Taste Awards.

It beat 10,000 food and drink products (including Smoked Gigha Halibut, Hot Smoked Salmon by Creelers of Arran, and Rock Rose Gin of Dunnet Bay) in contention for the top prize at the awards, which are run by the Guild of Fine Foods to champion artisan products.

The dripping had one of the judges, the restaurant critic Charles Campion, drooling. He described it as "a delicious fat" when spread on toast or used to make pastry, and said it tasted like an old friend which touched the heart of all the judges, adding that he'd never seen such an outrageous reaction to a simple product.

Who would have thought it? It's quite a turnaround in the fortunes of this most basic of ingredients, which is fundamentally a by-product of beef production. Then again, it's hardly a surprise given the ongoing fascination with old-fashioned nose-to-tail eating, and the eternal quest for flavour.

Dripping is made from the hard white suet (or knob) that collects around the animal's kidneys, which is boiled until it's liquid, strained to remove impurities, then poured into little greaseproof paper cups. Stored in the fridge, it hardens and can be used several times.

And at around 50p to £1 a tub it's way cheaper than most cooking oils, and certainly less expensive than imported coconut oil which, though it cooks at high temperatures and is tasty, costs upwards of £10.

Since Whelan's win, I'm told demand for dripping has soared: its recycling potential, compared to oil, is another plus.

Until the 1960s beef dripping was a larder essential in most postwar domestic kitchens. I don't quite remember spreading it on toast and sprinkling it with salt, but I do recall the hard white stuff of the chip pan.

As a child I used to watch as it slowly melted when mum turned on the gas underneath it, and would have to wait for the metal chip basket to be released from its greasy grip before dropping in newly cut potatoes. It seemed to take forever.

The agony of waiting for the smell of raw potato to morph into the delicious aroma of cooked chips stays with me still. It was always worth the wait: they were always crisp and delicious.

(Much later, I recall an indignant reader from a posh part of town ringing to complain to the editor of the newspaper I was working on that the fire in her kitchen hadn't been caused by an overheated chip pan, as we'd reported, but by a deep-fat frier. The implication was that chip pans and dripping were common; only those and such as those could afford the newly-fangled electric gadget, which heated swanky vegetable oil.)

But its flammable properties weren't the only reason dripping fell out of favour during the 1970s and beyond.

Animal fats were demonised for their role in furring up the arteries, causing heart disease, weight gain and associated ill health.

As a result we eat 46% less saturated fat than we did in 1975, with most of our calories coming from carbohydrates; excessive carb consumption can cause obesity, Type 2 diabetes – and heart disease.

Modern research is recognising saturated fat as an essential part of our diet as it helps cardiovascular health by raising good cholesterol, protects organs and aids the absorption of vital vitamins, including Vitamin A, which helps the digestive system, Vitamin D for bone growth, Vitamin E for the immune system and Vitamin K, which helps blood to clot. Animal fats like butter and dripping don't contain cholesterol-inducing trans fats, added sugar or salt.

Around half of Quality Meat Scotland's 300 Scotch Butchers Club members sell dripping, though not all make it themselves as it's a messy business and it can be difficult to obtain the desired pure white colour.

Tom Rodgers of Rodgers Butchers in Glasgow says he's about to start making his own, once he's learned how to do it from his father, because demand from the hipper restaurants he supplies (Ox and Finch etc) is so high. His will be from animals raised in Coatbridge and fed on grass during the summer and a mix of silage and Albert Bartlett potatoes over the winter.

The main reason modern chefs are using dripping once again is for the flavour it imparts. Rodney Jones at Porter & Rye in Glasgow's Finnieston quarter claims his restaurant was the first to use beef dripping for their triple-cooked chips because of what he calls its "sheer savouriness".

Cail Bruich has been using it for at least three years for chips and as a bread garnish, such as smoked bone marrow and beef dripping butter.

The competition is hotting up. I love the delicious irony that stating their dripping's exact provenance is set to become the next USP battleground on restaurant menus. Watch this space.

@catedvinewriter