I swore an oath to myself that if we ever visited Scotland I would try the haggis. It’s pretty much their national dish. Well, that ticket was punched a little over a week ago during our long anticipated trip. And judging by the reaction of our fellow diners, I think I’m owed some kind of medal or something.
Seriously though, the haggis didn’t taste as terrible as I had imagined. I’m not saying I’ll be whipping up a batch anytime soon (sheep stomach, sheep heart, sheep lung, and sheep heart are in short supply at our local market, gratefully), but at least I was able to keep it down while dining in polite company. It tasted of nutmeg and spices and it was silky soft. The silky soft component was a bit tougher to swallow because I knew exactly what I was eating, but I tried really hard not to think about it. I figured that if I could eat a slimy bowl of bird’s nest soup (google it on an empty stomach) during our visit to Singapore a few years ago, and survived to tell about it, haggis was a piece of cake.
We encountered many permutations of this savory “pudding” called haggis (FYI, pudding is a different animal in the UK; no pun intended): haggis bonbons (yup, you read that correctly), haggis with neeps and taties (turnips and potatoes), haggis pasties (small pies), and haggis pasta (think Bolognese). Haggis is on breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus in dining rooms across this beautiful country. We even spied a restaurant in Aviemore, Scotland, called the happy haggis.
I ate haggis with neeps and taties, which you is pictured in the photo above. I apologize for the poor image quality. The lighting in the room was terrible. Maybe they didn’t want tourists to get a good look at what they were putting in their mouths?? Just a theory.
Robert Burns is the national poet of Scotland and every year – on or around January 25th – people celebrate his birthday by holding a Burns supper (held often at Burns Clubs!) where they dine on haggis and Scotch whiskey (wise choice) is the traditional beverage to be consumed with ones haggis. During the event they recite Robert’s poetry and most importantly his “Address to a Haggis.” How could you not fall in love with a country that adores its national poet so much that they’ve created a memorial supper, with clubs, to honor him? How cool is that?
In closing, if you’re feeling ambitious and wish to terrorize your friends at an upcoming dinner party, here’s a traditional Scottish recipe for homemade haggis –
Ingredients-
1 sheep’s stomach or ox secum, cleaned and thoroughly scalded, turned inside out, and soaked overnight in cold salted water.
Heart, lungs, and liver of one lamb
450g/1 pound of beef or lamb trimmings, fat and lean
2 onions, finely chopped
225g/8 oz. oatmeal
1 tbsp. salt
1 tsp. ground black pepper
1 tsp. ground dried coriander
1 tsp. mace
1 tsp. nutmeg
Water enough to cook the haggis
Stock from lungs and trimmings
Preparation-
Wash the lungs, heart, and liver. Place in a large pan of cold water with the meat trimmings and bring to a simmer. Cook for 2 hours.
When cooked, strain off the stock and set the stock aside.
Mince the lungs, heart, liver, and trimmings.
Put the minced mixture in a bowl and add the finely chopped onions, oatmeal and spices. Mix well and add enough stock to moisten the mixture. It should have a crumbly consistency.
Spoon the mixture into the sheep’s stomach so it’s just over half full. Sew up the stomach with strong thread and prick a couple of times so it doesn’t explode while cooking.
Put the haggis in a pan of boiling water (enough to cover it) and cook for 3 hours without a lid. Keep adding more water to keep it covered.
To serve, cut open the haggis and spoon out the filling. Serve with neeps and tatties. Pour yourself a LARGE Scotch and may the force be with you. Oh, and if you do prepare haggis for you and yours, please let me know. I’d love to hear how it was received.
Eat more haggis!
April
“Fair and full is your honest, jolly face,
Great chieftain of the sausage race!
Above them all you take your place,
Stomach, tripe, or intestines:
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm…..” – Robert Burns