No Shirt, No Kilt, No Haggis

For a welcome change of pace, last night I got to sit back and enjoy a home-cooked meal without actually having to cook it myself. And what a delicious meal it was, considering this week’s Passport dinner was prepared by an even worse veggie-phobe than Adam, my roommate Craig.

A hilarious, self-deprecating, toilet paper deliveryman who looks for any excuse he can to don a skirt, Craig also just so happens to hail from Scotland.

Last month when he went on holiday to his hometown of Edinburgh, I had one simple souvenir request, a haggis. Although certainly not the most appetizing-sounding item in the gastro-globe, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try the national food of Scotland.

Made with sheep pluck, suet, oatmeal and spices, haggis is a kind of sausage traditionally encased in a sheep stomach. Today, plastic is often used in place of the stomach casing and it is also common to find canned haggis. Once removed from the tin or casing, however, haggis looks more like a hash than a sausage.

Traditionally served with “tatties” and “neeps,” mashed potatoes and mashed turnips respectively, haggis is not generally the most appetizing-looking meal either. Modern variations on the dish have made an appearance in recent years, however, including such oddities as haggis pizza.

Citing personal preference, Craig decided to follow the nouveau haggis movement and prepare Balmoral chicken. Found at many upscale Scottish restaurants, Balmoral chicken is a chicken breast stuffed with haggis and wrapped in bacon. Watching Craig assemble our dinner, I couldn’t help but think that our first haggis experience was going to be okay.

In addition to the canned haggis that Craig smuggled back from the homeland, our friend Jevon also contributed the frozen haggis he had been gifted by a family member. Not of Scottish descent himself, it is still a mystery as to why Jevon was given such an odd Christmas present, but hey, the more meat the merrier.

While the chicken baked in the oven, we helped ourselves to an appetizer of, well, haggis. Once Jevon’s Christmas haggis had baked for an hour, we made quick work of it, spooning up mouthfuls of the savory hash.

Nutty in texture and peppery in flavor, the haggis alone was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting. I can actually imagine myself thoroughly enjoying a haggis pizza, if only I could get it delivered.

Topped with a whisky cream sauce, the Balmoral chicken was moist and flavorful with a light sweetness to compliment the spiciness of the stuffing.

It is my firm belief that bacon makes everything better and my highland flatmate has proved this is even true for offal.

Although Craig’s creation was so delicious that not one morsel was left over, our meal would not have been complete without a couple of Tennents Scottish lagers, a dram or two of Macallan 12, a recitation of the Robert Burns poem Address to a Haggis, and of course the proper attire.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!