Burns Supper blues

Despite my given name (Stuart) I’m not Scottish, but I do love a good bit of offal sometimes, which is why I bought “a great chieftain o the pudding race” (otherwise known as a haggis) for Burns Night yesterday and cooked it for the family with “tatties” (we skipped the “neeps”, not being sure if it should be parsnips or turnips, and not having either in the house).

Great chieftain o’ the pudding race!

The results, as you’ll discover, were mixed.

Amber, our little chef, helped to prepare it. Millie, before even knowing what a haggis was, declared it “disgusting” and announced she would not be eating it. Whatever it was.

The Lovely Melanie and I honeymooned in Edinburgh back in 2018, which is where I first tried haggis myself. It was an anticlimax, being just a bit bland. Not unpleasant at all, but not strong enough to have a proper opinion about.

Which is why I thought the kids might enjoy it. That and the fact that haggis is basically a big bland sausage, and who doesn’t love sausages, right??

We cranked up the Burns Night Spotify playlist (which has A LOT of bagpipes – who knew?!) Amber mashed the tatties and I removed a surprisingly delicious smelling haggis from the oven.

“Smells delicious!” grinned my trusty assistant as I cut it open.

“Looks disgusting!” she grimaced, as the steaming insides were revealed.

“Call Millie and your mother,” I shouted above the wailing of the bagpipes, “Oh, and tell your mother to film Millie’s face when she sees this – it’s going to be brilliant!”

Millie’s the picky one at the moment, food-wise.

The Lovely Melanie joined us and looked at the haggis and tatties.

“Your Millie is going to flip her flipping lid,” she predicted confidently.

It was much tastier than I remembered, and tatties were needed to soften the strong flavour – something we tried to impress upon the girls, who found it a bit much, but would insist upon eating the two things separately.

Millie, disappointingly, didn’t flip her flipping lid: she complained and called it disgusting, but ate half of it, whereas her sister nearly had a complete meltdown about the whole thing. Very very very nearly. But not quite.

The Lovely Melanie declared it “an acquired taste”.

I quite liked it, but, yeah, a Burns Supper is probably best enjoyed just once a year.

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