First, there were food miles. In fact, before that, there weren’t food miles, because for much of human history the impracticality and cost of bringing food from further away than necessary held sway over matters of provenance. Professor Tim Lang’s 1990s food-miles concept crystallised how modern systems see groceries travelling further and further to meet expectations of low cost and greater convenience, all to the detriment of the environment and, it turns out, culture. As food disappeared out of sight over the horizon, so it went out of mind.

Re-attaching ourselves to local food, and its links to identity, landscape and community, is an active theme within Scottish hospitality. In city restaurants, fine-dining destinations and many tourist itineraries, you’ll find claims of local sourcing, name-checked suppliers, hyper-local foraged items highlighted, and farm-to-fork approaches venerated.

So far so good, even if committed practitioners may still find themselves shaded by those happy to pay lip-service, to window-dress or to simply deceive. That makes engaged thinking, away from the city lights or well-worn tourist trail, even more worth noticing. Drive 45 minutes south-west of Edinburgh on the A701 (the route linking the capital to the M74 and the south) and, as Tinto Hill dominates the skyline, you’ll find Errington’s Barn, halfway between West Linton and Biggar.

If the name’s familiar, it’s part of the same operation as Errington Cheese, makers of Lanark Blue, Corra Linn and some increasingly admired raw goat’s milk cheeses, including Elrick Log and Blackmount. Run by Selina and Andrew Cairns, the farming and cheesemaking happen a few miles up into the South Lanarkshire hills, but the barely 18-month-old Barn is where they aim to complete that oh-so-simple yet oh-so-challenging circle of local food, making it relevant to the public right by the roadside. 

The Barn isn’t quite as agricultural as it sounds. Pull off the road and you’ll find a smartly turned-out café, a small deli with cheese counter front and centre, a takeaway hut for coffees and breakfast rolls, outdoor tables, plus 80 acres of neighbouring woodland. Within this are some simple trails with rare-breed piglets rooting away, scions of the farm’s herd that feed on whey from the cheesemaking and supply the Barn’s small butchery unit, which in turn provides the café with sausages, bacon, ham and other porcine bounty.

Helming the café is Ed Murray, one of the chef-founders of the much-missed Gardener’s Cottage in Edinburgh. He’s deeply committed to the field-to-fork ethos; not just the connections from soil to grass to animal to farmer to cheesemaker or butcher, but all the way to the table. For him, the connections only truly come to life if the food is ‘fun, accessible, nourishing and, of course, delicious.’

The roadside location is also key. While inspiration in Britain is scant (Little Chefs still have a lot to answer for), Murray suggests French truck-stop bistros are ‘examples of places where some local cheese, a bit of homemade charcuterie, tasty bread and a fresh salad are appreciated.’ In this way, the relatively simple daytime menu of soups, tarts, omelettes, handmade pasta specials and cheese boards form part of the immersive experience of being on the move through the landscape. It also provides a decent bite on your travels. You might be counting the miles until you get to your destination, but they won’t be food miles.

Errington’s Barn, South Melbourne Farm, Elsrickle, daily 10am–4pm (takeaway shed 7.30am–2.30pm).