I Ate Haggis!

db and I attended our first-ever Robert Burns Supper tonight, thanks to our pal Beth, whose kind invitation to come over for haggis and poetry we could not refuse. But of course! So with shortbread and whiskey in tow, db, Joe, and I arrived faithfully at 6 p.m.

Um, haggis smells good. That was a good first sign upon walking in the door. Actually, the first good sign was that our friend Beth looked good when we walked in the door. That she was even hosting this dinner party delighted us, certainly for all the usual convivial dinner party aspects but especially this evening because she underwent her first chemo treatment (out of 6) for breast cancer on Thursday. We were thrilled that she was still up for having people over, and to eat haggis, no less!

So, haggis...yeah. Um, it tastes like meatloaf, thank goodness. Were it to taste anything like one might imagine it would taste, I think we would all have run screaming for the exits. I'm sure it did not hurt that said haggis was purchased at Whole Foods where strict organic and other FDA-approved guidelines were in effect. We shared a wonderful meal with Beth and John and their friends Eni and Lace, Hungarian-speaking Romanians (English-speaking, too, of course). I ate my haggis and tatties and neeps with a dram of whiskey, thankyouverymuch. When in Scotland...

But before our meal, after a relaxed time snacking and chatting, we had a surprise guest visitor -- a Scottish bagpiper! Well, "Scottish" anyway. He knocked on the door at 7 p.m., dressed to the hilt. [In a kilt! -- Dr. Seuss Ed.) And he proceeded to regale us with bagpipe tunes, which were really lovely, actually. It was amazing how much volume the bagpipes can generate. Battle music, for sure. He took care to stand some distance away from us. And I loved our bagpiper, because he played the whole role, affecting a Scottish accent, dressing in full garb, giving us a little history, reciting Burns' poetry, and at the end escorting us to the haggis. Very ceremonial. Once we were seated, he then welcomed the haggis (!) with a poem, and had a swig of whiskey with us, teaching us a traditional Scottish toast, which sounds like a slurred and very drunken way of saying, "It's a lawn chair!" I have no idea how to spell it. Needless to say, a wonderful meal and a wonderful evening, and, again, I wish I'd had my camera. Mostly, of course, we were grateful that our pal Beth was doing so well, if a bit weakened. Bless you, Beth. It's-a-lawn-chair! To your health.

A familiar favorite from our honoree Robert Burns:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,    
  And never brought to min'?    
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,    
  And days o' lang syne?    

We twa hae rin about the braes,            
  And pu'd the gowans fine;    
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit    
  Sin' auld lang syne.    

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,    
  Frae mornin' sun till dine;      
But seas between us braid hae roar'd    
  Sin' auld lang syne.    

And here 's a hand, my trusty fiere,    
  And gie's a hand o' thine;    
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught      
  For auld lang syne.    

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,    
  And surely I'll be mine;    
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet    
  For auld lang syne!    

      For auld lang syne, my dear,    
        For auld lang syne,    
      We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet    
        For auld lang syne.