Two dramatically different food events are taking place in Scotland this weekend, and the mixed messages they deliver have me wondering if Scotland isn't the most perplexing place on Earth.
The 40th Ryder Cup teed off yesterday at Gleneagles in poshest Perthshire, where VisitScotland are putting on a show of the very best of Scottish produce for the 24 American and European team players, their captains and entourages, plus the 250,000 domestic and international spectators and 2000 journalists expected to attend the three-day tournament. At the media reception last week there was a menu to die for: Argyll rock oysters with rhubarb and Talisker foam; smoked barley, cauliflower and neep risotto balls; Hebridean salmon ceviche with borage and chilli; and soused Orkney herring, served in dinky ceramic canape dishes; a tiny scotch egg with St Bride's duckling; chicken liver pigs in a blanket with malted soaked prunes; canape-sized Scotch trifles and clootie dumpling with braw cratur custard; and a range of artisan cheeses.
Throughout this weekend, in the spectator village at Gleneagles, there is a Scottish Government-supported Scotland Food And Drink zone where producers get to showcase - and spectators to taste - regional foods such as seafood from Argyll; salami and chorizo from Berwickshire; cured venison from Pitlochry; wild boar and fennel salami from Kilmarnock; seaweed products from Stornoway; and Kelvin Valley honey. Alongside this, some of our top chefs are demonstrating how best to cook it all. All well and good, and in accordance with the Scottish Food Charter which binds not only caterers at public events but also exhibitors to sourcing local. And, of course, perfectly pitched to the wealthy demographic that follows the cream of international golf.
Some 50 miles down the A9, on the first practice day of the Ryder Cup and only weeks after the Commonwealth Games proved such a successful showcase for Glasgow's vibrant food scene (and even prompted yours truly to declare it, in writing, a food revival to slay the deep-fried Mars bar myth once and for all), the city mounted the most shameful food market I've seen in a long time.
On Sauchiehall Street, slap-bang in the city centre, a "Continental" market shot up overnight with at least three huge stalls selling imported candies and sweeties; meat products from Wales and Wiltshire; and the usual outsized Spanish paella pans containing unfeasibly large prawns. There are stinky bratwurst on a grill, Swedish meatballs, Provencal bread and "authentic" French waffles and crepes. It seems far from fresh; it looks tired. Surely we have moved beyond this type of second-rate circus, which visits just about every other town and city in the UK on a never-ending circuit?
Nowhere did I see anything to suggest that the produce was local or Scottish. So much for building on the city's new-found reputation as a modern, vibrant foodie destination. It seems the aspirations of the Food Charter have been hastily chucked out by Glasgow City Council's licensing board, which I understand granted the Lancashire-based Market Place Europe (MPE) its trading licence for this tacky abomination.
MPE is nothing to do with City Property Markets, which operates the weekly farmers' markets in Glasgow. MPE's operations manager even had the condescending gall to say it would present Glasgow with "an exciting selection of flavours from all across the globe".
It's said that, in the field of sport, golfers and their fans are a different breed. They're assumed to have more discerning culinary tastes than, say, footballers or boxers. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Scotland right now. When it comes to defining the nation's foodie aspirations, it's seems we're in the middle of a game of two halves. I know which side I'm batting for.
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