haggis

I used to get very amused by all the people who would bandy about the word "haggis" as shorthand for the most disgusting foodstuffs you can imagine people eating.  I'm no longer amused.

I first had haggis on a trip to Edinburgh some seven or eight years ago.  At the time it felt like a dare to myself.  But then I had it, and I wondered why people made it seem like some awful thing.  In terms of texture, it resembles stuffing, or perhaps - because of the oatmeal involved - a pilaf.  In terms of taste, it's savoury, redolent of seasonings and with a great umami flavour.

And look, I know how it is traditionally cooked, inside of a sheep stomach.  But come on:  sausage gets stuffed into intestine, so how is that different.  And it's not as if there is a massive stomach carved open at your plate, so stop being squeamish.  You think the ingredients are gross?  Enjoy your American version of haggis every time you eat a hot dog, then.

Enough with the chiding.  Haggis is tasty, and those who shun it based only on preconceived notions are children.  That settled, let me report out on recent haggis eating.

I had met a friend I knew from Instagram last Thursday to explore the down and grab a bite together.  I'll write more about our Thursday in a separate post, but Theo knew I wanted some Scottish food, so he took me to Mharsanta.  I wish the place were busier because I enjoyed it a great deal.   I had the cullen skink to start with, a creamy soup with smoked fish in it. 

Tasty, and not too big a serving.  And then the haggis.  In fact, we each had a plate of it, served in a traditional style with neeps and tatties (turnips and potatoes).  Yep, just like a remembered it, and very welcome.  I especially like how it sits with the peppery sweetness of the neeps.  It was a generous plate of lunch, and we opted not to have dessert.  Theo had a beer,

I had a cider. 

Bellies full, we wandered out into a damp day to see more of the city.  And I had another haggis experience under my belt.