so, a couple of weeks ago i had my own personal burns supper with a vegetarian haggis. burns supper, if you don't know, is where lots of scottish people get together to celebrate the poetry of robert burns, eat haggis, drink whisky and generally get really pissed to go scottish dancing.
i did that, minus the whisky and dancing and, you know, people.
i got a vegetarian haggis because a normal haggis is eugh - sheep's stomach stuffed with sheep innards, vegetables, suet, oatmeal etc etc. the veggie one just excludes the sheep heart and liver and what not. blaaah! it's sort of like.. spicy vegetable-y porridge. but.. nicer. you can't really do it justice.
here is the haggis. on the left:
you are meant to 'toast' the haggis at your party. someone has to know this poem. for integrity's sake (if not for the fact i failed to do it at my own burns supper), here it is. i am bored:
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 of 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 slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie 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 like drums;
The 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 owre 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 make 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!
here is the unboiled haggis:
and here is the finished haggis with mashed potato and peas. you are meant to have it with turnip/swede but turnip is the FOOD OF THE DEVIL so i replaced it with peas:
have with a wee bit o'gravy if you want.
you are meant to have a "toast to the lassies" too but i had no men to toast me
