Monday, 23 January 2017

Food blog - Haggis, neeps and tatties

Wednesday this week is Burns Night, 25th January. The traditional food eaten at this time of year is haggis.

Haggis

Image result for haggis

 Haggis is a savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onionoatmealsuet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, traditionally encased in the animal's stomach though now often in an artificial casing instead. According to the 2001 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique: "Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent nutty texture and delicious savoury flavour"

Burn's Night

Image result for Robert Burns
1759 - 1796

Burns Night, held in honour of Scotland's most famous poet Robert Burns, is celebrated at the end of January every year.
The night is a way to remember the life of the 18th century bard and it falls on his birthday – Monday, January 25.
The tradition started a few years after the poet's death in 1796, when his friends commemorated his career on the date of his death (July 21) each year.
So began the Burns Supper, and more than two centuries later it is has become a nationwide event with recitals of the poet's works and a haggis dinner.
A friend of mine, married to a true Scot assures me that the meal should be served with a shot of whisky.

The photograph above is of the meal I created at the weekend. Now I'm sure purists would disagree with my description of 'haggis, neeps and tatties' but it is a matter of dialect. In the north east 
tatties = potatoes
neeps = turnip

What I actually produced was the haggis roasted at 190 degrees Celsius over 1 hour and 55 minutes, standard mashed potato and swede and carrot mashed. I made my own gravy. It is a very tasty dish and should be available all year round like the accompanying whisky!

Burn's Poetry

A Red, Red Rose
O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair are thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I;
Till a' the seas gang dry.
And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And the rocks melt wi' the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
And so I close with Burn's words.
God Bless