In search of the Golden Spurtle: My day at the World Porridge Championships

BRAVING Storm Amy, my husband, four-year-old daughter, and I made our way to the Highland village of Carrbridge to witness the chaos, camaraderie, and culinary wizardry of the World Porridge Championships.

We set off from our cosy self-catering cottage on the Blair Atholl Estate, windows streaked with horizontal rain and the wind blasting at our car.

Storm Amy seemed intent on wrecking the day – the organisers had already announced that the pipe band parade was cancelled, and the marquee couldn’t go up. But this event has been held annually for 32 years, having been created as a way to promote the village.

So nothing – not gale-force gusts, soggy anoraks, or public transport cancellations – could stop the magic of the Golden Spurtle.

I’d come to Carrbridge hoping to find out what makes this quirky Highland event so special. What is it that draws people from across the world – from Norway to New Zealand – to a tiny village hall to stir oats, salt, and water with almost religious devotion?

The magic of the golden spurtle

Is it the competition, the camaraderie, or something deeper – a search for warmth, connection, or maybe just the perfect bowl of porridge?

As we approached the village, the first thing that hit me wasn’t the smell of porridge but the sound of bagpipes. The steady, haunting drone of the pipes echoing from the village hall. Even from outside, I could sense the start of something extraordinary.

A long queue of determined spectators braved the rain, eager to glimpse a competition that’s quietly captured the imagination of the world, especially since the release of the documentary The Golden Spurtle in September.

World Porridge Championships Rules
Use oatmeal, water and salt to make a traditional porridge in 30 mins
A further award will be made for the best speciality porridge which competitors make in the same time
There are five heats and a 20-minute final where the best six from across all heats make one last bowl of traditional porridge to be judged

The Golden Spurtle – the movie

The film has turned local organisers, competitors, and even the village itself into minor celebrities – everyone from Charlie Miller the honorary Porridge Chieftain to the Raffle Queen, Jane Weston, now has their own cult following. Jane says she even gets recognised and stopped in Tesco!

“I think Constantine really got it,” two-time champion Lisa Williams told me later when speaking about the film’s director. “It could easily have gone the other way, but he captured the heart of it all – the humour, the emotion, the sense of community.

“It’s funny in the right way – never mocking. It’s so much more than just a film about porridge.”

It took a while, but we fought our way inside and found a spot to sit on the floor near the front of the packed audience.

Let the games begin!

The tiny village hall was a hive of organised chaos. Contestants hustled past with aprons dusted in oatmeal, readying themselves for the competition.

The first heat was packed with familiar faces from the documentary and previous events – we’d clearly made it in time for the big-hitters.

Whisky was introduced early on by expert Martyn O’Reilly. His tastings of local drams were entertaining, adding a gentle warmth to the proceedings. At that point, the crowd was polite, expectant, and only slightly mischievous.

Steak with porridge?

Returning competitors like Doug Mackay, an engineer from Wick who draws inspiration from his family’s butchering roots, were already deep in the rhythm of their dishes when we found a spot to watch from.

His steak speciality dish with cream crowdie and herb crust looked – and smelled – divine.

Nervous energy keeps them stirring

Sarah Rankin, our effervescent host and MasterChef finalist, darted from table to table, occasionally snagging a snack while keeping an eye on the contestants and the audience entertained. Doug’s seared steak drew her back for a second helping.

“It’s my third year competing,” he told me afterwards. “The first year was the most stressful. But you need that wee bit of nervous energy – keeps you focused.”

Two-time winner Lisa said, “The competition itself is fierce – everyone wants to win – but it’s also incredibly friendly. My aim is always just to finish both my dishes in the half hour. Anything beyond that is a bonus.”

Former winner feels the heat

I caught up with 2023 winner Adam Kiani after his heat, a little starstruck after his starring role in the documentary. “I’d planned for a slightly less chaotic recipe this year, but somehow everything ended up in the bin,” he said.

“I was rushing around, chucking pans over my shoulder. But it’s done now – and there’s that sense of relief once you’ve served your bowl of porridge."

After each stage, the leftovers are dished up into small bowls so the audience can get a wee taste. A determined but friendly crowd gathered around the servers to get their first taste of potentially world-class porridge.

The first heat was mesmerising. The competitors, each with their own rituals, moved with focus and flair. Some swirled, some stirred, some tapped their spurtles as if conducting a miniature orchestra.

What is a spurtle
A spurtle is a traditional Scottish wooden kitchen tool used for stirring porridge, soups and stews. It is long and smooth with a rounded end that prevents lumps forming in the porridge, making it better than a spoon.

All competitors were warned of the curse that befalls anyone who fails to stir their porridge in a clockwise direction.

The Spurtle Curse
There’s an old Highland superstition about stirring porridge the wrong way. Tradition says you must always stir clockwise – sunwise – to bring good fortune. Stirring widdershins (anticlockwise) is said to invite the devil into your pot. I’m not sure about dark forces, but given the stakes – and the crowd’s sharp intake of breath whenever someone dared reverse direction – I wouldn't test it

Former Bake Off star takes on porridge

I caught up with Nicky Laceby, a competitor and former Great British Bake Off star from the West Midlands, as she waited for her turn to compete. “I’m nervous, but it’s all part of the fun,” she said.

“I’m not a professional chef, I just love baking. My gran taught me, and that’s where it all started. Now, I just love sharing food.”

She was competing with a traditional porridge and a sweet one with pear, saffron, and ginger – a nod to her Bake Off days.

Local legends at the Carrbridge Hotel

By late-morning, my daughter needed a break. We wandered through the village, stopping to marvel at the iconic coffin bridge – the oldest stone bridge in the Highlands – keeping our hoods firmly up to avoid a full soaking.

There’s a strange serenity in a stormy Highland village; even with porridge chaos all around, the landscape whispers patience and peace.

Lunch at the Carrbridge Hotel offered a much-needed respite. We caught up with contestants and judges on the livestream while enjoying our meal, and during the lunch break I bumped into Scots Magazine columnist the Hebridean Baker, Coinneach Macleod.

The Hebridean Baker and 66 bowls of porridge

While signing a copy of his new cookbook for me, I asked him how the judging was going, “Most of the porridges were lovely,” he said with a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Around us, the stalls were a riot of local craftsmanship: honey, gin, jewellery, wooden bears by Alice, a local chainsaw artist, all raising funds for next year’s event.

As the judges took their well-earned break, the chatter turned to how much the event had grown. Lisa, ever modest despite her cult status since the documentary, almost wasn’t here this year.

Fate, friendship and a bit of porridge magic

“I actually wasn’t going to compete this year,” she said. “The Golden Spurtle winner and the Speciality winner automatically get a place, but everyone else goes into a ballot – over 60 people for 30 spots.

“I didn’t get one. Then, on Sunday, I got a call saying someone had to pull out, and they offered me a place! I felt terrible for the person who couldn’t come, but also excited. It felt like fate.”

That sense of serendipity continued, she said. “I’d been in hospital just days before, but everything lined up – trains ran when they normally wouldn’t, we found exactly the dishes I needed in charity shops.

"It felt like the universe was saying, ‘You’re meant to be here.’”

After lunch, it was back to the hall for the last heat and the final. By this point, the air was thick with a curious mixture of steam, oats, and the gentle haze of whisky. Sarah Rankin kept spirits high, cracking jokes with competitors:

“What are we making today?” she asked a competitor.
“Porridge!” came the inevitable reply.
“Leave the gags to me!” Sarah shot back, laughing.

When she introduced Sven Seljom, a whirlwind from Mandal in Norway, who had brought ancient Black Oats, he was met with mock boos of disapproval over his lack of spurtle.

“It’s hard to get them in Norway!” he defended himself. Sarah reassured him that every finalist would receive a commemorative spurtle.

The final was a symphony of oats, creativity, and nerves and the hall became even more packed than before.

The final and a surprise win

There was great excitement when the final six were announced and a party atmosphere descended. The chosen competitors clearly struggled to maintain their spurtling composure for the final push and there was a hint of delirium.

Each finalist was asked to prepare one last, perfect bowl of porridge. Sven, the confident Norwegian, was finished first, with 10 minutes to spare.

Downing a dram in celebration

Nicky Laceby handed on her final creation with flair – downing a celebratory whisky shot and stating, “I feel so relieved!”

Other finalists were remarkably relaxed. James Leech stirred with abandon, hips swaying, claiming it was integral to his technique – “spurtle salsa!” he called it.

A first-time finalist from Northern Ireland took the full allotted time with carefully soaked pinhead oats, cooking low and slow, stirring both directions, giving everyone else palpitations about the curse.

Purple porridge from the Philippines

The multi-national atmosphere at the event was a highlight. Norwegians in traditional dress, sipping tiny bottles of spirits wrapped in brown paper, Aussies milling their own oats, and a Filipino Scottish contestant experimenting with vibrant ube (purple yam).

The hall was lined with flags representing all nations in attendance, including the Devonshire flag which took some research to identify.

Yet there was no serious rivalry – only a shared joy, a universal delight in simple, nourishing food.

As Kim McGhee, defending Speciality Dish Champion, said, “You’re surrounded by such kind people – it’s a warm, joyful community. The nerves just melt away.”

As the final dishes came in, the hall fell into a reverent hush. 66 bowls later, the judges, visibly full and slightly drowsy, began deliberations.

Neil Mugg, chief judge, advised competitors to remember good porridge should be pourable, textured, and your sea salt well-mixed.

Judges in need of a nap

Award-winning chef KJ Gilmour and Coinneach Macleod, aka the Hebridean Baker, nodded sagely, though at times they seemed on the brink of a porridge-induced nap.

Then came the announcement everyone had been waiting for. Sven Seljom, the Norwegian Tornado, had won the Golden Spurtle with his Viking-era Black Oats.

A win for Norway!

The crowd erupted, chanting “Sven! Sven! Sven!” His supporters, tears streaming, looked around in disbelief, hugging each other as he strode to accept the trophy, grinning from ear to ear.

Speciality Dish champion was Caroline Velik, the Australian food stylist whose Porridge Jaffles had wowed the judges with rum banana toffee liqueur, oatmeal, and Davidson plum sugar.

Outside the hall, I caught up with Sven, who still looked dazed by the victory.

“I didn’t expect this when I woke up this morning, obviously,” he said, grinning. “I had confidence in the oats that I’m using though – they’re a bit special – so I was counting on them to do the work, and they came through for me.”

In those final moments, I looked around the hall and was struck by the simple humanity of it all. There were soggy spectators, gleeful children, relaxed dogs snuggled on the floor, and a medley of aromas and accents.

So what is the secret to this event?

For one day, all our modern clutter – the relentless notifications, the stress, the choice fatigue – melted away.

Here, life was reduced to three ingredients: water, oats, salt. And yet, in their simplicity, they revealed something profoundly nourishing – community, creativity, and joy.

As the hall began to empty, the sense of wonder lingered. Watching families, dogs, competitors, and locals mingle, you could feel the extraordinary human connection at the heart of this tiny Highland village.

Stripping back to basics

Driving home later, my daughter slept soundly, dreaming of giant spurtles and flying oats. Storm Amy had tried to stop us, but she had been no match for porridge, whisky, and a Highland village bursting with joy.

And perhaps, for a few brief hours, the world felt just a little simpler, a little kinder, and a lot more connected.

Scots Snippet

Word of the Week

"Tattie-bogle"

(n.) - a scarecrow.

From the Scottish words "tattie", meaning potato, and "bogle", meaning ghost, this is a delightfully descriptive name for the lad keeping your crops safe!

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