Taste ye Back is fascinating as anthropology, but pretty revolting as a recipe book: there are stodges, gravies and sweets to show, once again, that 20th-century Scotland had not just the worst diet in Western Europe, but also the dullest. Among the ingredients are glacé cherries, tinned baked beans, condensed milk and a hell of a lot of minced beef, presumably boiled grey. The most cosmopolitan dish is a Blue Cheese Pasta from Midge Ure of Ultravox.

The book is a reminder of the Scots’ penchant for gilding the gruesome from their past — see Andy Murray’s Greek Shepherd’s Pie (the Greek bit is tomatoes) or Dame Evelyn Glennie’s Mince and Tatties (“with Bisto if you can get it”) — and turning it into wipe-a-fond-tear nostalgia. If I were asked to nominate a favourite of my childhood, it would probably be Findus Cheesy Filled Pancakes, which my mother would fry from frozen. I can still feel my teeth breaking through their leathery hide to release that glorious tide of molten processed cheese. But they don’t make me yearn for the homely joys of the Renton family table.

Nearly half the recipes in Taste ye Back are for puddings, sweets and cakes. This is no surprise: cheap, sugary food has filled bellies in Scotland since the mid-19th century, and we eat even more today, with a grams-per-head count higher than any country outside the United States. In this book, the broadcaster Kaye Adams rhapsodises over butterballs: “blobs of butter rolled in sugar” and “Millionaire’s Shortbread” — the millionaire bit being the fact that the biscuit is topped by both chocolate and caramel. Does Adams still have her own teeth? They look suspiciously perfect in her photograph.

In a scoop for this column (well, it would have been if I’d read the book last week) the Prime Minister comes out and, without hesitation, nominates a favourite sweetmeat: his mother’s apple and blackberry crumble. Gordon Brown’s favourite vegetable, he reveals, is sprouts.

Radio Four’s James Naughtie, who grew up in rural Aberdeenshire, remembers refusing to eat any fish, however fresh; instead he enjoyed “mince and tatties, shimmering Scotch broth, flavoursome stews”. (“You lucky bugger, Naughtie,” you can hear the other celebs moaning: “You had stews with flavour!”) He provides a recipe for buttermilk fruit scones.

If anything in the book tugs at my heartstrings, it’s the scones and cakes, which raise memories of grand teas at my grandparents’ house in Ayrshire. When I mentioned potato scones to my wife, who used to eat them on visits to the relatives in Perthshire, she made a vomiting noise. But I loved their floury solidity, especially when spread with butter and Marmite. So I bashed up a leftover potato the other night and cooked tattie scones. The children put Golden Syrup (a spread invented on the Clyde as a way of using up surplus sugar) on the scones and pronounced them “brilliant”. Here’s Sue Lawrence’s recipe from the book.

alex.renton@thetimes.co.uk

Taste ye Back: Great Scots and the Food that Made Them is published by Hachette. A slice of its proceeds will go to the Children’s Hospice Association, Scotland.

Tattie scones

Ingredients
250g boiled, peeled potato
25g unsalted butter
50g plain flour ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp baking powder Method Mash the potato well with the butter while still warm. Stir in the flour, salt and baking powder. When the dough is properly mixed, shape it into two balls.

Method

On a floured surface, roll these into two circles about 5mm thick. Cut each circle into quarters and prick all over with a fork. Heat a heavy-bottomed pan, and melt a little butter in it.

Fry the scones until golden-brown; this will take 3-4 minutes for each side. Allow to cool a little on a wire rack.

Times Recommends

• Thomasina Miers’s cabbage and bitter leaves on garlic toast
• Food that's good for body and soul
• Carrot, date and goat's cheese salad