Haggis – what’s it all about?

Since his death in 1796, the memory of Scottish poet Robert Burns has been celebrated on or around his birthday, 25th January, with a Burns Supper. Following a traditional running order, guests eventually stand while the haggis is delivered into the dining room to the sound of bagpipes. The reader then recites Robert Burns’Address to a Haggis and cuts the casing of the cooked haggis during the line, ‘His knife seek rustic labour dight’.

The haggis is then eaten and toasts of malt whisky, more readings and dancing follow the meal. It’s safe to say that an awful lot of haggis is consumed this time of year at Burns Suppers, not only in Scotland but across the globe.

However, there are arguments to suggest that haggis is not from Scotland at all. In Laura Mason and Catherine Brown’s book The Taste of Britain they write: ‘There are plenty of medieval and early modern English references to establish it was a dish eaten throughout Britain.’

No matter where the haggis originated (evidence points to the Romans) the Scots are the ones who embraced, nurtured and now celebrate the haggis as the glorious meal it is.

What exactly is a haggis?

To make a haggis, the pluck (liver, lungs and heart) of a sheep are washed and boiled. This meat is then minced and mixed with oats, onions, suet, salt, pepper and spices, often including mace. This mix is sometimes run through a mincer once more before being moistened with gravy.

It was then traditionally sewn into the sheep’s stomach; nowadays artificial plastic casings are often used. The haggis is then boiled for about an hour. This thrifty dish is often served with ‘neeps and tatties’ (mashed turnips and mashed potatoes respectively), though Dorothy Hartley writes, ‘Nothing is served with haggis, except bagpipes and whisky’ – accompaniments with which I can whole-heartedly agree.

The flavour

Once cooked, the grayish oval-shaped ball is cut open to reveal a peppery, rich interior that tastes like liver. The oats help to bind the meat and add a slight nuttiness to the offal. Of course haggis is not for everyone, some can find the intricate flavours of the pluck a little overpowering and, as with most foods, quality and subsequent enjoyment can vary wildly. As Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall explains in his River Cottage Meat Book, ‘At their best, they are a delight, and at their worst a disgrace.’

A whole heap of haggis

Haggis is eaten throughout the year, from deep fried versions in humble chip shops to the tables of fine highland restaurants. But throughout January and February, production increases vastly.

Gordon Little, of Mogerleys Quality Butchers in Dumfries, makes over 1,800 kilos of haggis in January alone. Mogerleys has been producing haggis since 1876 and Gordon still sticks to an exacting recipe: ‘We make them all traditionally with natural casings. The proper way.’

I have always thought it would be cool to be Scottish. What’s not to like? Kilts, bagpipes, the warrior history, Robbie Burns. They’ve got it all. But then there’s the haggis.

Talk to a true Scotsman and he will extol the virtues of a finely prepared haggis. Talk to someone who’s never tasted it and they’re likely to blurt out — “Sheep intestines.”

Turns out, that’s not quite true. At least not the haggis they will serve at The Burns Supper Jan. 28 at Nell’s City Diner. That haggis, which will be prepared by Piper Lloyd Bogart, is made from lamb, steel cut oats, onions, spices, a little bit of liver and some oil or fat. There are a few other ingredients, but sheep intestines is not on the recipe card.

“The original recipes were hunters’ recipes,” Bogart said. “They would throw a lot of things in that we wouldn’t — anything they couldn’t carry home conveniently. And then it used to be cooked up in the stomach of a sheep.”

You know those cook ‘n’ serve bags you get for the Thanksgiving turkey? How different really is that from a sheep’s stomach? “Anything in my haggis you can buy at Festival Foods,” said Bogart. But you probably can’t cook haggis the way Bogart can. “I’ve had compliments from Scots people on my haggis,” he said. When he served it years ago to a Scottish band that was visiting, they told him, “That’s good. That’s not greasy.” “That’s high praise,” Bogart said. The folks who hang out with bagpipers and such like haggis so much that its the centerpiece of the evening. They actually have an event that’s called “Piping in the Haggis.”

For me, that would be the warning to skeedaddle. But for others, that’s like ringing the dinner bell after a hard day’s work on the farm. They call it the Burns Supper in honor of Robert Burns, an 18th century Scottish poet. Sometime after his death in 1796, Scots began to gather on or near his birth date (Jan. 25) to read his poetry and enjoy traditional music, food, drink, and dance. Locally, the supper has been celebrated for 35 years.

Still no hankering for haggis? Gee, maybe’s it’s Burns’ “Ode to a Haggis” which is putting you off. Here’s a small taste of his tribute to haggis:

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reeking, rich!”

Something’s reeking all right and I think it’s the haggis! Sandra Goetzman is one piper who is not a fan of “entrails bright.” She just doesn’t like the taste — “too peppery,” she says — but she always tastes it because it wouldn’t be a Burns Supper without haggis. But don’t worry, they’re also serving deviled chicken.
“I don’t even know exactly what deviled chicken is,” said Goetzman, who used to help organize the dinner but nowadays mostly just goes to dine and pipe. Though Goetzman is not a fan, many others will haggle over haggis, hoping they get to take the leftovers home, said fellow piper Bob Reis, who took up bagpipes when he was convalescing after a serious operation. That’s right, Bob Reis likes haggis and he thinks learning to play bagpipe is a really good way to convalesce. “It’s more of a matter of learning how to use your diaphragm,” he said, explaining piping technique, not haggis gobbling.

Reis and his wife have been to Scotland several times and have eaten haggis often and proclaim themselves fans. “The first time we had haggis it was a bland hash. I mentioned that to a cousin and they took us someplace where they had a very nice haggis.” And that’s what he proclaims Bogart’s haggis to be — very nice.
“If there’s any leftover haggis, there’s lots of people who will ask for it. It’s great with eggs.” So if it’s haggis you want, then don your best kilt and get over to Nell’s because it will be another year before you’re offered another opportunity to partake.

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