Interview: Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

"Is it a Friday?" Yes Hugh, it is. "Oh," he says, his voice crumpling with disappointment. "That means I might miss the farmers' market."

That's the thing about Fearnley- Whittingstall. Whatever else might be clanking around in that polytunnel-sized brain of his, there's a good chance a reasonable proportion of it will be devoted to ferreting out the best local food around, no matter what part of the country he's in. The Eton and Oxford-educated chef was up in Glasgow recently (more of which later) and went out for a "fabulous meal in a restaurant that's really good on local produce. It was just brilliant". What was it called, Hugh? "Um, I can't remember. It did really interesting Thai curry nights, though. I remember that."

In the land of the celebrity chef, Fearnley-Whittingstall, 44, stands alone. While Gordon Ramsay carves out a schmaltzy US TV career, Nigella Lawson plays with cakes and Jamie Oliver seems to swither between re-educating the nation's palate and promoting his wife's baby books, Fearnley-Whittingstall is a bona fide, full-time food campaigner. Whether he's petitioning Tesco to improve the conditions in which its chickens are kept, convincing us all to grow our own organic veg, or setting up a collective that will allow people across the country to swap land to grow things on, Fearnley-Whittingstall appears passionate, genuine and somehow more approachable than most of our foodie TV personalities. You get the impression he really cares about this stuff, unlike the hordes of chefs on our screens who appear to be doing it for little more than the money.

Not that he doesn't have a few corporate tie-ins himself. When I ask him how he became involved in Taste, the three-day foodie extravaganza taking place in Edinburgh this weekend, he gives me the rather too honest answer that, because the guiding force behind the festival is Channel 4 – who air his enormously popular River Cottage series – he was "an obvious target".

Still, he says, he's looking forward to it. "I've been doing these festivals for a couple of years now, so I feel like a bit of an old hand. I've never spent quite long enough in Edinburgh, but I know there's some really great foodie things going on, so I'd like to get the chance to check them out."

Perhaps it's not surprising that he readily admits to not knowing Edinburgh too well; after all, with his curly locks and ever-present wellies, Fearnley-Whittingstall is not much of a city boy. Get him into the Scottish gloaming, however, and it's a different story. He may be chiefly associated with Devon and Dorset on England's south coast, yet every summer he, his wife Marie and their children, Oscar, Freddy and Chloe, will rent a cottage on Scotland's west coast for as long as a month. It's something he's been doing for a number of years and which clearly gives him a lot of pleasure.

"We have a few favourite spots. We usually try and visit Mull and last year we rented a place on Lewis, which we hadn't done before, and spent a lot of time out on the water, visiting a few islands and doing some diving. But we usually go back to our favourite spot on the Morvern peninsula."

Unsurprisingly, the vast array of Scotland's fresh local produce is a big pull for him. "The crustacea is the best I've ever tasted. It's just unbelievable – the velvet crabs, mussels, oysters, hand-dived scallops. We always try and rent somewhere on the coast and make sure we've got access to a little boat so we can put out our own pots. We'll occasionally get a nice piece of local venison or beef, but most of the protein we eat we try to catch ourselves. We find we can feed our bellies for a few days purely off our own efforts. And the mushroom hunting's good too."

He manages to conjure up an image of the sort of rural Scottish holiday idyll that VisitScotland would crawl over a beach of broken scallop shells to have him endorse. But, being Hugh, he's also concerned about the fate of many of the Scottish shellfish he sees during his trips.

"I think it's a shame that Scottish people aren't necessarily enjoying the fruits of their own produce, because a lot of this shellfish is going straight to the Continental market. I've got no argument with the way a lot of fishing is being done in Scotland – a lot of it is sustainably fished produce – but it seems a shame more of it is not being consumed locally. I have noticed in the past few years that more local pubs and hotels are intercepting some of this catch, dealing direct with the fishermen and serving it up locally. It's encouraging, but I think there's always going to be an appetite for more local consumption."

And what does he think of Scottish food itself now? Does he think we still have that lard-laden, deep-fried Mars Bar reputation hanging around our necks? "I think things have really changed. Edinburgh has a reputation now for being a really exciting place to eat out, with guys like Martin Wishart and Tony Singh (head chef at Oloroso] – there's a lot of eclectic, global eating available." Perhaps that is why he has recently opened a production office in Glasgow (hence the mystery meal out). Although he's keeping the projects it's working on under wraps, he will say that they are "close to home".

Another of his projects is something called Landshare. Still in its early days, the idea is that it will allow people to make unused land available to those who want to grow on it or farm it. "I've been banging on about growing your own food and how satisfying it is for a long time," he says. "And I guess I think the message is being heard now. There's been a slow build, but I think the tide really is turning.

"The recession has played a part in that, but it's not just the economics of growing your own food: people are now starting to question the ethics of mass-produced, industrial food and not taking it for granted any more and considering alternatives. I honestly think this is a bit of a watershed moment."

His campaign against Tesco over its treatment of chickens has since grown arms and legs and he could recently be found protesting outside Defra over government proposals to increase the stocking density (ie, the number of chickens) per square metre in British poultry farms.

"And this at a time when we've managed to start a dialogue with the supermarkets and the poultry industry," he says, sounding despondent. "These things are never easily achieved, but we feel there is a genuine possibility of getting an industry-wide consensus, and this (proposed legislation] would seem entirely counter to what the consumer and even the industry would want."

You get the feeling he won't give up easily, even though, as ever, he's got more than enough on his plate (both literally, as well as figuratively). As we're winding up the conversation I ask him what he's got planned for the future. There's a new TV series in the pipeline, which he's keen to tell me will be even more relevant to viewers in Scotland than in the south, because they're filming "right up to the wire" and things happen seasonally a little later in Scotland, meaning it will be absolutely bang up to date when it airs. So when's that on, Hugh?

"Um, I'm not sure. Remind me again the date of Taste?"

Taste of Edinburgh 2009, Inverleith Park, 29-31 May www.tastefestivals.com/edinburgh for information and tickets.

'As soon as one job's finished another one needs to be started'

THEIR friends call them Tom and Barbara. But for Callum and Polly Murray their self-sufficient ways are rather more than a dinner-party joke. At their country cottage just outside Auchtermuchty in Fife, the couple have adopted the sort of River Cottage lifestyle that would make Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as green as his home-grown cabbages.

Having recently sold their furniture business in order to take early retirement – Callum is 50 and Polly 43 – they are now dedicated to running their smallholding full time. They grow a mass of vegetables and also keep hens, harvest apples to make cider and raise four pigs.

"It's a full-time job," says Polly. "As soon as one job's finished another one needs to be started. But I absolutely love it." Although they are not completely self-sufficient – "We buy milk, cheese and butter, and things like tinned tomatoes and peanut butter" – Polly is keen to try and utilise everything she produces on her land. "Instead of orange juice we drink our own apple juice now. And I make my own cider vinegar, so that replaces any vinegar I might use in cooking."

Her pigs, whom she says have been great companions, are off to the abattoir in two weeks. Is she nervous about saying farewell? "I'm fine, I think. They are absolutely adorable creatures, but I've known all along that's what they're there for and that your role is to give them a fantastic life. Besides, I read Hugh's book so I knew not to name them, which he did and really regretted, because it means you get too attached to them."

Next, Polly is keen to get some goats. "It would be a big step and I've got to make sure I can walk before I run," she says. "There's no point taking on another project until I've mastered the previous one."

As well as benefiting the family – the couple have two children, aged 20 and 13, who are keen contributors to the smooth running of the smallholding – their lifestyle has had community benefits too. She is a member of a food group run by the One Planet Food project, which works to promote the consumption of local, seasonal produce, and recently, when it came time to press the apples to make the cider, turned it into a community event by inviting neighbours to join in.

"We invited lots of local people who have apples to join in the pressing with us and it was lovely. It was a great way of meeting like minded people and exchanging tips." Tom and Barbara, no doubt, would approve.

Interview: Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall - Land of plenty