The haggis experience

While most guests at the annual Robbie Burns Supper here Saturday night at least tried the haggis, and some even had seconds, I’ve found it may be one of the more misunderstood dishes in Western culture.
For the record, this first-time haggis-eater was both eager and wary about the dish. “Sheep stomach filled with mystery meat–I’ll pass” is what I might have said if I hadn’t had time to be assured by others who had tried it before–and lived.
Perhaps it was the beef broth and salad that preceded the haggis that comforted me. But more likely it was Carole Mackintosh’s dramatic “Address to the Haggis” that convinced me I could–no, must—try the haggis.
That is, if I were to walk away a self-respecting quarter-Scot myself.
It was this spirit that carried through first the smell (which was reminiscent of liver) and the sight (think food more likely seen in a dish on the floor than at the dinner table) to my first bite.
It was good. It was, in fact, delicious. Imagine a mix of corned beef hash, paté, and spiced sausage–a treat for any meat-lover.
The rumours had been wrong. Suspicions entered my mind that those who put down haggis hadn’t even tried it. They had been judging a delicacy by its innards all along.
While I have to admit the odd texture (and the slight competition at the table for more of the meaty treat) didn’t see me take more after my initial serving, I had been convinced–I like haggis.
Why don’t people eat it year-round, using it as a cracker spread, pack it in their kids’ lunch, sell it every restaurant!
But I digress. As the spirit of the inspiring Robbie Burns celebration fades with each passing day, and I continue to repulse my vegetarian girlfriend with any mention of haggis, I’m thinking that maybe haggis, like Christmas and birthdays, is best limited to a once-a-year experience.
Below is a recipe that may differ from the one used by the St. Andrew’s Society of Winnipeg for the dinner here Saturday night, but is being provided to shed a little light on the dish.
Ingredients include: one sheep’s stomach bag; a sheep’s heart; a sheep’s liver; sheep’s lungs (optional); a half-pound of fresh beef suet; three-quarters cup of oatmeal; three medium onions (minced); one teaspoon of salt; an eighth-teaspoon of pepper; a pinch of cayenne; and a three-quarters cup of gravy or beef stock.
The stomach bag should be washed thoroughly with cold water, turned inside out, boiled, and then scraped with a knife. Then put it aside in cold, salted water overnight.
Cover the liver, heart, and lungs with cold water, then bring to a boil and simmer for an hour-and-a-half. Cool.
While toasting the oatmeal, chop up the heart and lungs, and grate the liver. Mix the meat with the oatmeal and the other measured ingredients together and fill the bag about two-thirds full. There should be room for the oatmeal to swell.
Press the air out of the bag and sew up securely. Put it into a pot of boiling water. When it begins to swell, prick several times with a needle so it won’t burst. Boil for three hours, uncovered, adding more boiling water as needed to keep the level up over the haggis.
Place haggis on a hot platter and serve with a spoon. It’s traditionally accompanied by turnips and whiskey (“neeps and nips”).
Recipe taken from “The Highlander’s Cookbook–Recipes from Scotland,” by Sheila MacNiven Cameron.