It's About Time I Celebrated Burns Night

{EAV:cc7114bd036a5791}

Two haggis(es) in the front and a Rutabaga in the back.

It may be hard to believe but I've never celebrated Burns Night in the 11 years that I've lived in England. The main reason for that being: haggis. Ick.

My husband invited a few of his mates from the pub over for a Burns Supper this year, though, so I had to participate insofar as the cooking was concerned. And the drinking of whiskey! I've made haggis for my husband on Burns Night before — it's not difficult. But I've never been tempted to try it.

The haggis, after the plunging of the knife. 

One of his friends, Martin, tried to convince me that haggis is similar to sausage. True, the meat is ground, mixed with a filler, and encased. However, that's where the similarities end for me. The meat is sheep's liver, heart and lungs. The filler is oatmeal and suet. And the casing is the sheep's stomach. Ick.

Haggis is traditionally served with "tatties and neeps".  I knew that "tatties" were potatoes but I had never heard of a "neep". It's still confusing. "Neeps" is the Scottish diminutive of turnips ("nips"), a small, round, purple and white bulb that is related to cabbage and kohlrabi. Turnips taste nice (and I prefer them raw, the same as my kohlrabi).

But my husband, and many others, call a rutabaga a neep. "Rutabaga" is the Swedish word for "round root" and is known as a "Swede" in many countries, including England. It has a strong, unpleasant taste and was eaten by the Germans only in times of famine. Ick.

Neeps and Tatties.

The neeps and tatties are boiled and mashed separately and served with the haggis, which is baked for an hour in a pan of shallow water. The haggis is brought to the table with much pomp and circumstance; a tribute, "Address to a Haggis," is read and the knife plunged into the bulging haggis at a particular point in the poem. Toasts are made (to the haggis) all around.

My mashed potatoes were beautiful, as always, but I wasn't a fan of the mashed neeps. I had a small taste and they did remind me of cabbage but they were quite strong and almost bitter. I couldn't bring myself to even taste the haggis. Ick.

Burns Night=Pizza Night for me.

I ordered a pizza instead. But I did drink enough whiskey to be able to read a poem aloud — as is the custom at these Burns Suppers.

I thought my husband and his friends would have a more laid-back affair but they followed the typical routine, to the letter.

The format for these celebrations begins with a general welcome, which is followed by the Selkirk Grace:

"Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit."

John reads one of Robert Burns' poems.

An overview of Burns' life and work can be given at this point — most people read their favorite of "Rabby's" poems, and much toasting and whiskey-drinking ensues. It can be difficult to read and understand his poetry (as illustrated with the verse above) but nearly everyone is familiar with his most famous work, "Auld Lang Syne." This song, which most of us associate with New Year's Eve (or Hogmanay), is sung at the conclusion of the supper.

Knife in hand, Martin reads "Address to a Haggis."

Cranachan (a boozy concoction made with oats, whipped cream, honey, whiskey and raspberries) or Tipsy Laird (whiskey trifle) can be served for dessert. Since I prefer to bake cookies, I made Delia Smith's Scottish Butter Shortbread for them. Delia uses semolina, which gives the cookie a crunchier texture (and I always have semolina because I use it to make pizza dough). Anyway, most recipes rely on three main ingredients — flour, sugar and butter — so it's practically foolproof.

Delia's Scottish Butter Shortbread.

I doubt I'll be celebrating Burns Night again anytime soon but I didn't mind making the dinner; I enjoyed sharing the shortbread and the whiskey; and it was fun to learn about the traditions associated with this Scottish holiday. Finally.

The whiskeys.