Clapshot, Haggis and Whisky Sauce
Haggis with a touch of whisky – what could be better? Haggis used to be a bit of a faff to cook, but it’s much easier now with aluminium foil. Just wrap it up neatly and bake in the oven — the haggis cooks in its own juices. Simple!
Haggis is a kind of savoury pudding containing sheep’s pluck (heart, liver and lungs — see offal); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal’s stomach and simmered for approximately three hours. Most modern commercial haggis is prepared in a sausage casing rather than an actual stomach.
As the 2001 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique puts it, “Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent nutty texture and delicious savoury flavour”.
The haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, considered the national dish of Scotland as a result of Robert Burns’ poem Address to a Haggis of 1787. (See the bottom of the page.) Haggis is traditionally served with “neeps and tatties” (Scots: rutabaga and potato), boiled and mashed separately and a dram (a glass of Scotch whisky), especially as the main course of a Burns supper. However it is also often eaten with other accompaniments.
The recipe
500g haggis
500g floury potatoes
500g turnips
50g butter
75ml double cream
sea salt
freshly ground white pepper
2 tbsp chopped chives
500ml double cream
2 tsp grain mustard
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tsp whisky
juice of1/2 lemon
Preheat the oven to 180°C/G-as 4. Wrap the haggis tightly in aluminium foil and bake for 45 minutes. Peel the potatoes and turnips, and cut them into equal-sized pieces. Cook in separate pans of boiling, salted water until tender. Mash them together and add the butter, 75ml of cream and seasoning. Stir in half the chopped chives and keep warm while you make the sauce.
Gently heat the 500ml of cream in a saucepan and add the mustards and the whisky. Tum the heat up high to cook out the alcohol. Season to taste and add the remaining chives. Just before serving, whisk in the lemon juice.
To serve: Put a good spoonful of mash (clapshot) on a warm plate. Top with some haggis and drizzle over the warm whisky sauce.
And here is your added bonus. This is the original Address to a haggis written by Burns in 1787. But the twist is in the English translation. At your next Burns supper, why not have two speakers doing the address – one in the traditional Scottish, followed verse by verse by a pure English version for all the Sassenachs present.
The Address to the Haggis – with English translation
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin’-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak yer place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace
As lang’s my airm.
Nice seeing your honest, chubby face, Great chieftain of the sausage race! Above them all you take your place, Belly, tripe, or links: Well are you worthy of a grace As long as my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead
The groaning platter there you fill, Your buttocks like a distant hill, Your pin would help to mend a mill In time of need, While through your pores the dews distill Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dicht,
An cut you up wi ready slicht,
Trenching your gushing entrails bricht,
Like onie ditch;
And then, Oh what a glorious sicht,
Warm-reekin, rich!
His knife see rustic Labour sharpen, And cut you up with practiced skill, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like any ditch; And then, Oh what a glorious sight, Warm-steaming, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmaist, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit’ hums.
Then, spoon for spoon, they stretch and strive: Devil take the hindmost, on they drive, ‘Til all their well-swollen bellies soon Are tight as drums; Then old Master, most likely to burst, ‘Thanks Be’ hums.
Is there that ower his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?
Is there one, that over his French ragout, Or olio that would give pause to a sow, Or fricassee that would make her spew With perfect loathing, Looks down with sneering, scornful view On such a dinner?
Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit:
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
Oh how unfit!
Poor devil! See him over his trash, As feeble as a withered rush, His spindly leg a good whip-lash, His fist a nit: Through bloody flood or field to dash,Oh how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his wallie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread,Clap in his sturdy fist a blade, He’ll make it whistle; And legs and arms, and heads will cut, Like tops of thistle.
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!
You Pow’rs, that make mankind your care,And dish them out their bill of fare, Old Scotland wants no watery ware That slops in bowls: But, if You wish her grateful prayer, Give her a Haggis!
This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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