We brew in an old farm building on an organic estate on the East coast of Scotland.

We’re in the farm’s old stable block actually, which is attached to three huge cowsheds. They used to keep the plough horses in the building we’re in, and the older folk in the village remember coming up here with carrots in their pockets for Danny and Judy the horses, when they were wee.

There are no cows and no horses here now but we look out on ploughed fields and see the seasons change and the farming cycles trundle on outside with their reassuring inevitability.

This will be the first time that we will solely use airbourne yeasts and microflora to ferment our beer, rather than commercial strains that we buy, blend and propagate (as we do for our regular beers). The result will be completely natural, organic beer, made with a lot of heart, with nothing unnecessary added or taken away - a purer reflection of our location here on the east coast of Scotland. It will hopefully bring us a step closer to doing what is second-nature to many of the wine and cider makers we most admire.

We went for a bit of a tour last week and a chat with Sophie to talk farming, animal husbandry, dry ageing, Sophie's path into butchery and her recommendations for best cuts, roasting joints and what to order for the all-important Christmas feasting.

The freshness of the organic pineapple is balanced out nicely by the muskiness and warmth of the dried spices and botannicals. And the seaweeds add a lovely minerality and texture. We think that this unique blend of ingredients makes for a rum rooted in the Fife coastline we look out on.

Incredibly fragrant and aromatic, the cardamon-orange scent of the seeds must have played a large role in making the plant a favourite of hogs, cows and other grazers through the years.

In historic records, you can see references to hogweed by different regional names, which suggest both how warmly it was regarded, and also how familiar it was to people. Known as ‘limpenskrimps’ and ‘humpy-scrumples’ in Devon, ‘rumpet-scrumps’ in Somerset and ‘cow-keeks’ here in Fife, today hogweed goes largely unnoticed by the human species and certainly isn’t part of anyone’s everyday lexicon.

Pineapple weed is a relation of chamomile, but has a far fresher, juicier aroma, which is very similar to pineapple jelly sweets when you press the buds between your fingertips.

The plants appear in scrubland, at the side of paths, driveways and pavements, thriving in the poorest conditions and most unlikely spots. The word 'weed' suggests something unwanted and unloved. Perhaps it was named by gardeners who like everything a bit neater than we do?

Our seaweed explorations and experiments still feel very embryonic.

Although we have spent several years living, working and walking by the sea, cataloguing our seaweed discoveries and working out how to use different varieties in our beers and spirits, the universe of seaweed seems so unfathomably large, that (very happily) we know this means many more years of guddling about on the rocks with a bucket in our hands and the sun on our backs.

Known as gorse and furze outside Scotland, whin flowers cover huge swathes of our coastlines for most of the year. They are so ubiquitous that they are sometimes taken for granted by locals and it often falls to visitors to point out how magnificent the bright yellow blossom is.

Whin flowers all year round here, even in the depths of winter, to avoid predation on its seeds during the spring and summer months. It’s a saviour for us in the leaner foraging months, when it’s a lot colder, and something we come back to time after time for its cheering yellow colour and delicious coconut aroma and taste.

The hedgerows and rocky crannies of the East Neuk of Fife set “a-hud” by a sinking sun on a winter’s afternoon resemble a small slice of paradise, sandwiched between cold earth and a colder sea. From our desk-based jobs in centrally heated homes and offices, the finger-freezing, back-breaking, bone-chilling realities of making a living from the fields and fishing grounds around us feel at comfortably fleeced-arm’s length.

Growing agroecologically mean that the ecosystem of the whole farm is central to how the business is operated, so while they are not organically certified, the principals guiding the way they farm and grow are organic.

They say: "We grow on a human-scale without the use of pesticides, herbicides or chemical fertilisers and follow methods that enrich and regenerate biodiversity and soil fertility. We are currently transitioning to a deep mulch or 'no-dig' system throughout the farm, meaning we will no longer cultivate the soil, in order to preserve and enhance soil health for greater crop health. We experiment a lot and are always trying new methods, whether to improve the ecological impact of the farm, to save on labour or time, or to get the most flavour and nutrition out of the food we grow. We believe everyone should have access to local, sustainably produced food that enhances the wider ecosystem rather than degrades it."

Ancient, venerable and largely overlooked by modern drinkers and critics, the earliest orange wines on record date from at least 6,000 years ago in Georgia. Their gradual re-emergence over more recent times (the last 30 years) has come about largely because of the efforts of a small number of European winemakers whose commitment to the principals of organic farming and the artistry of their craft has brought about this modern-day wave of interest and fascination.

We are in a beautiful old stable block which backs on to the main cowshed at Bowhouse. Vernacular stone walls, exposed roof beams, high ceilings. All the makings of something amazing. There is still a lot to do but we thought it would be good to share a few photos of our progress so far.

As well as fermenting naturally, we wanted to capture a demonstrable coastal character in our beers. Saltier styles, like Goses, felt like a good starting point (Goses were traditionally made with the addition of salt and coriander). But as keen foragers, we have also focused on incorporating many wild, foraged ingredients into our recipes. Things like sea buckthorn, fennel and seaweed, all taken from the coastline, meadows and hedgerow surrounding the brewery.

The more we’ve eaten and drunk and read and talked to people involved in both sides of the debate, the more we’ve realised that food and drink has reached a bit of a fork in the road. Synthetic and industrial one way, organic and natural the other.

Organic is important to us because we trust it more than the alternative. It’s about working with nature and the environment. It’s more nourishing for us and we think it tastes far better too.

‘Futtle’ is an old Scots word, specifically from this part of the East coast, that refers to the noise that stones make when they hit against one another as the sea drags them up and down the shore. The percussion of pebbles.