The Dead Scot Affair
The Source
It was undoubtedly the single most expensive bit of food that I’d ever put into my mouth so I savored it. I’ve heard my more worldly friends talk about the delights of caviar and foi gras but I’ve only tasted caviar when it came with the meal on a cruise ship and have yet to consume a slice of goose liver. No, my most expensive meal was a bit of something they practically give away in Scotland…haggis. My mother actually has a recipe, beginning with the words, “First, get a sheep’s stomach.” She always stopped right there. It’s the food of peasants in Scotland, but once a year our bagpipe band would travel to Peoria on Bobby Burns Night, the celebration of Scotland’s most renowned poet and songwriter, Robert Burns. Peoria evidently had a large Scottish community because when we’d arrive at the Lithuanian Fellowship Hall (I’m not kidding), the banquet room would be filled with tartans, kilts, and lots of Scotch Whiskey. The highlight of the evening was the “Piping In of the Haggis.” A whirl of bagpipes would raise the crowd to its feet and in the door would come a steaming sheep’s stomach held high on silver platter accompanied by Peoria’s finest piper and a small covey of dancing Scottish lasses. The Clan Chief would then stand before the scalding offal and proclaim: “Some hae meat and cano eat! And some can eat but hae none! But we hae meat and we can eat So let the Lord be thankin’!” Then he’d bring his sharpened dirk down with a thud, right through the center of the steaming stomach and the haggis would ooze out in all directions. What made this particular hunk of haggis so expensive? It had been cooked in Edinburgh, Scotland, that very morning, flown to Chicago’s O’Hare airport, tossed into a hotbox in an awaiting van, and delivered to us still hot from Scotland…in Peoria. I can only imagine what the transportation-fee-per-ounce must have been on that little dab of haggis that ended up on my plate. All I can remember is that my first bite of haggis landed like a thud in the bottom of my empty stomach and seemed to lay there for the rest of the evening as the local performers recited the poetry of Bobby Burns and older men with no business wearing kilts or dancing wore kilts and danced. In case you want to try a dose of the national food of Scotland on your family tonight, it consists of sheep’s pluck (heart, liver, and lungs), onion, oatmeal, salt, all simmered in the actual animal’s stomach for three hours. It’s traditionally served with “neeps and tatties” (turnip and potato boiled and mashed separately) and a dram of Scotch whiskey. Tradition says that since an animal’s innards spoil quickly, the haggis was first eaten at the sight of the kill. There are some things we’re better off not knowing. Okay, I have a confession. I’ve eaten haggis on my last two trips to Scotland and I dearly love the stuff. I know, I know, it sounds disgusting, but in fact most of my tour group found the dish not only palatable but quite tasty…nutty, savory. We even ate it every morning for breakfast. Of course since we eat with our eyes, the sight of a small dollop placed on a bed of Scottish lettuce is perhaps more appealing that the specter of an exploding sheep’s gut. This Thursday night Jacksonville will get to taste haggis as some of the local Scots will present their first annual “Jacksonville Bobby Burns Night.” Word has it that Dr. Ug’s has found a haggis recipe for the evening. If anyone’s missing a sheep this week, check the coffee shop on the Virginia square. Alas. I’ve talked so much about haggis that there’s no room to speak of Burns himself. Suffice it to say that he led a life every bit as wild and savory as any mouthful of haggis. Come on over to Our Town Books Thursday night and find out. (By the way, the Guinness World Record for “Haggis Hurling” has been held by Alan Pettigrew for over 25 years. He threw a 1.5 pound haggis 180 feet ten inches on the island of Inchmurrin, Loch Lomond in 1984 and no one’s had the nerve to try it since.)