Underneath this CURTIS lies a CAMPBELL ( great, there goes Otto’s password recovery ). My Scottish heritage began in Scotland. After that, I think a lot of them swam over to Nova Scotia, Canada. There probably was a war or something with France. Then the Scottish people started having babies, watching the tide wave in and making lobster rolls. Or something like that. We have a few Scottishy things that made its way to our family. Oat cakes, shortbread, bagpipes, tartan. Haggis never made it. I’ve only ever heard of Haggis from story telling around the bon fire on the beaches of San Diego. You bury it. You hunt it down. You never leave it alone or it may corner itself with nothing but a laptop, a fast internet connection and a valid credit card. I’ve definitely never had the opportunity to taste it. Until today.
Thanks to our authentic Scottish neighbor ( sorry, “neighbour” ), we got “in the know” of a Scottish holiday involving haggis.
The suspense was exhilarating. We received real-time tweets after she shot and bagged the haggis.
“If it appears edible, then I shall bring some over later!”
“It’s looking good, tastes okay, just needs a bit longer for the oatmeal to relax.”
“Going to eat some, see if it kills us. If not, we’ll send some your way. Here’s hoping….”
Edible?! If it kills us?!?! Here’s hoping! I can’t wait!
Then the haggis arrived. With sauce.
Evidently you talk to your haggis before you eat it. Thankfully we had a script. Thankfully, it came translated.
Lucy read the required reading. Otto was not amused.
Tosca heard some rumor about a Scottish calorie and waited patiently for the rest of the words to finish.
It turns out the Scottish pre-haggis poem is a bit wordy. Otto sighed, “this is going to take forever.” I was enjoying it.
Otto took a bite mid-poem then offered feedback as an eight-year-old food critic, “eck.” Eck is not bad. I’ve had much lower ratings for something as simple as pork chops.
Brent had some haggis, but I’m not sure if it was after the poem … hopefully this counts. I really enjoyed it. I loved the sauce and texture.
Haggis is an awesome name for a sausage. I’m glad we had the opportunity to try it. I’m not sure what they say on haggis day, so I can offer this ” So long! and thanks for all the haggis!”
Ya need a wee bit of heelp wit yer histories, lassie. The old folks came over on the boat named Hector. That would be yer geat, great grandad. Nova Scotia it were.
A fond farewell
Gladys
yeah, I knew I missed a few details :).
We had haggis when we visited our kids that were living in Scotland–actually enjoyed it very much! Glad you all were able to bag one, talk to it and at least taste it, even if not everyone liked it! (bagpipe swirl)
I’m glad I got to taste it too! It was a fun evening.