“When God was making the world, it came to the point where He was making Scotland,” says a historian from a village of seven-hundred-odd residents in the Highlands. “You’ve given these people a beautiful country.” Oats were here in Neolithic times. But we need to learn how to cook them—the Scottish way, with water—so that the resulting porridge “isn’t too runny but equally isn’t a hockey puck.”
One recent afternoon, a friend of mine who works in the ticket office at Montrose Station—knowing that I like to take some little trip or other by train—suggested that I reacquaint myself with a truly beautiful journey—the Highland Mainline, originating from Perth and terminating in Inverness, one hundred and eighteen miles north. I have made this journey many times and noticed with great interest the above small village, Carrbridge—also known as Packhorse Bridge and Coffin Bridge (“because it takes you to the cemetery”)—tucked in about three-quarters of the way north. As well as being well-connected by train, Carrbridge is the subject of the delightful film “The Golden Spurtle” (Screen Australia), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse.
The residents of Carrbridge worried that their town wasn’t famous for anything so they resolved to put themselves on the map. The oat is the “epitome of Scottish food—can you make a competition out of making porridge?” they wondered. So they settled on the invention and subsequent hosting of the world porridge making championship. Now thirty years old, the tournament attracts contestants from as far away as Canada, Indonesia and Australia. The prize is a golden spurtle—a spurtle being a spoon in the characteristic shape of a thistle, made with pride in Carrbridge, the profits from sales used to fund the competition.
In many ways “The Golden Spurtle” feels like an unexpected, happy and generous coda to last weekend’s LandxSea Festival (which is multiplying the fame of our own town). One of the short films chosen this year was a documentary about a mending cafe in Pitlochry, a town south of Carrbridge on the Highland Mainline. I felt that this feature, which sat sandwiched between various shorts from Cuba, in one of the strongest segments of the Festival, was chosen to illustrate how communities can join to make a real difference by reducing consumption and increasing the lifespan of, especially, household electrical items. Both films gave me the happy sense of inclusivity and participation. Both are low-budget protections and created a connection between Scotland and Cuba, in the case of “Cuban Shorts” and between Scotland and Australia, in the case of “The Golden Spurtle.”
“The Golden Spurtle” is a comedy/documentary which features contestants framed by, say, their own gardens, or the Carrbridge train station, or interviewed while leaning out of their upstairs windows. When one contestant withdraws at the last minute, the “Honorary Chieftain of the Golden Spurtle” calls his brother, who readily agrees to stand in (he doesn’t win). The organising committee argue about whether the gas burners should be at the centre of the cooking tables or placed to one side. The rules of the competition are: one, that only three ingredients can be used—Scottish oats, salt and water—and two, that the contenders have thirty minutes to make the porridge. The bowls are judged blind by three experts while the pots are washed by a seemingly huge team of very enthusiastic kitchen porters. Head judge Neil explains in detail the scoring system—twenty points for taste, five for colour and five for texture. “They say you should stir porridge clockwise in order to keep the evil spirits away,” says the Toby the Taco Chef, the Australian contender. “I do it just in case!”
Documentary films like this which don’t take themselves too seriously are one of the unsung joys of the big screen, and of a Playhouse membership. The cast doesn’t feature actors, just participants and characters. The trick is to make the characters interesting, to allow us to smile in complicity. Who competes in the Golden Spurtle? A hotelier, a fitness instructor, a shop owner, a fungus and mycology researcher, a taco chef. “… and I’m competing in the Golden Spurtle this year,” they all say. No doubt there is an editing room floor somewhere covered in lines that were cut. But unscripted moments that made it into the final version craft a compelling story, and allow us into the lives of those taking part: “Today’s the first time I’ve cooked in a competition,” says one of the contestants. “Don’t make a mistake and think [the competition is] out there,” says the chief pot washer, pointing at the hall from inside the “boiler house” kitchen. “It’s actually in here!” Various non-competing residents of the town are also interviewed, “I’ve heard of the Golden Spurtle,” one man sweeping up leaves says. “I wouldn’t dream of entering it.”
As the marquee is taken down towards the end of this inspiring and gentle film, it occurred to me that the enormous popularity of television cooking competitions relates to how the judges make their determinations. “The noble oat cooked with such positivity,” one of them says. “Someone’s put rock salt into this and hasn’t mixed it in properly,” says another. And, about a third bowl, “It eats really easily!”
Adam Poole
21st September 2025
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
