I vaguely recall trying Haggis many, many years ago. But that was in Perth (Australia, not Scotland) and I do not recall the obligatory accompaniments being served at the time. Haggis is the only national dish that sounds like it might also be a small woodland creature with an attitude. Visitors hear the ingredients and turn green, but Scots just shrug like, “Aye, and…?” Meanwhile, every January, haggis gets its moment of glory at Burns Night, where people recite poetry to it. In a traditional Burn's supper it will be piped in by a bagpipe player and an esteemed guest will address the beastie with some words of Robert Burn's. No other food gets serenaded before being eaten. You don’t see anyone addressing a poem to a paella or an ode to an enchilada. Maybe I should start a trend?
So what exactly goes into a Haggis? The following seems to be the "usual" and personally, I think it's best not to think too much about the ingredients:
1 sheep's stomach bag
1 sheep's pluck - liver, lungs and heart
3 onions
250g beef Suet
150g oatmeal
salt and black pepper
a pinch of cayenne
150mls of stock/gravy
The surprisingly tasty dish is then served with neeps and tatties. Neeps is mashed up turnip or swede, usually with a wee bit of milk, and tatties are potatoes - also mashed with lots of butter. I tried mine at Howie's on the recommendation of one of our Scottish Back-Roads Tour Leader. Great spot on Victoria Street and they do a very good 2 course lunch for £20.
As Big Brother is always listening and I was reading up about Bonnie Scotland and Haggis, Facebook soon started giving me lots of pages dedicated to the other Haggis. The wild animal that runs around the Highlands with one leg shorter than the other so it can navigate hills. There are many pages dedicated to this mythical and majestic beast - a creature so rare that not even David Attenborough has managed to study it.
The wild haggis is said to be a small, round, furry creature with one pair of legs shorter than the other, allowing it to run perfectly around hillsides in one direction.
Haggis live in the Highlands, usually near whisky distilleries, because even mythical creatures appreciate a good single malt. They are shy, nocturnal, and deeply judgmental of tourists wearing tartan they bought on the Royal Mile.
Every year, thousands of visitors ask where they can see a real haggis in the wild. Locals answer with the same energy as someone explaining Wi‑Fi to their gran. Much like Nessie, I failed to see a wild haggis during my short time spent in the Highlands. I shall return.
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