Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Ach aye the noo! Happy Robbie Burn's Day...

So today is Robbie Burn's birthday, and Scots far and near will be celebrating the great poet's birthday.

The evening begins with the Selkirk Grace, followed by the Parade of the Haggis where the dish of legend is paraded in on a platter accompanied by bagpipe music and guests on their feet a'clappin'.

Burn's poem about the illustrious haggis is recited to the crowd, and the Haggis is then ceremonially stabbed with a sgain dubh (pronounced skeen do) which is a Scottish ceremonial dagger that a good Scotish lad always has tucked into the top of his sock.

More speeches follow, including the "Toast to the Lassies" made by a male guest as thanks to the women in their lives. Scotish women - never being short of a word - make a toast in reply to the gentlemen in their lives. And then the party REALLY begins....until the evening is over and closes with a rousing version of Auld Lang Syne, another more famous poem by Burns. And everyone stumbles home.....

No worries I have not decided to try to make Haggis. Not this year anyway, but you never know with me what I will do next year. However, I thought since it was Burns Day I would give my own little solute to the Haggis. I always wanted to have a Highland Terrier and name it Haggis. And a second one to name Hamish. Don't ask why...there is no reason, I just do.

I am sure many don't really know what a Haggis is, right? When I was a little kid I thought it was a creature that ran through the heather and up and down the hills of Scotland and had legs short on one side and long on the other. Apparently there is a flying variety also....yes I read too many Dandies and Beanos as a child!

Well a Haggis is a very, very old Scottish dish in which the liver, lungs and heart of a sheep are boiled, then minced and mixed with chopped onions, oatmeal, salt, pepper, and spices. Not that the Scots really use much spice. If I ask my mother what her two favourite spices are she would say "Salt and pepper". Yep...that's what I grew up on. No wonder I learned to cook. But I digress....then the lovely mixture is stuffed into a cleaned sheep's stomach, which is sewn up and boiled! Wonderful.

The Haggis is served along side Tatties (mashed potatoes) and Neeps (mashed turnip) and sometimes if you are lucky, Mushy Peas (exactly what they sound like). Dessert might be a Clootie Dumplin'(my Aunt Dorothy apparently makes great ones) with hard sauce and/or a Scottish Trifle (a dish which my Mom excels considerably), which is basically boozed and jello'd up sponge cake layered on top with custard, fruit and then whipped cream.

A taste delight be sure, but I was born in Aberdeen and it is my heritage so I share it with you today!


Address to A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve, Are bent lyke drums; Then auld
Guidman, maist like to rive, "Bethankit!" 'hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!

Haggis photo courtesty of freefoto.com

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