Not being the type to have my nose stuck in a poetry book, Burns' night (twenty-ten) was for me, always going to be an excuse to faff about in the kitchen. Mixed results ensued. Friends were encouraged to pen their own submissions in return for supper (mixed results, natch)...here are some of our efforts.
Would not eat this haggis, yeh?
Haggis, the food that scream "can yer
eat me and prove you're a man, yeah?"
Oh no! It offends
Then let's make amends,
and turn it into a lasagne
And a super entry from a friend who unfortunately couldn't make it due to work commitments. I sometimes wonder how much more she'd get done if she wasn't dreaming up mythical food-beasts.
"Sadly, some people are not convinced that the haggis, a small, fluffy mammal with legs shorter on one side so he can walk on hills, really exists...therefore I have taken the opportunity to write a wee Haggis Limerick for you to read over the lasagne. So here we go
I Believe In The Haggis:
(To be read in a scottish accent)
From the land of kilts, bagpipes and whisky,
There comes a wee timorous beastie,
He runs through the highlands,
Left legs shorter than Right ones,
And with Tatties and Neeps he's quite teeesty
Neeps and Tatties Soup
Haggisagne, garlic bread
Deep Fried Battered Mars Bar with Vanilla Ice Cream
The soup was genuinely tasty, and entirely without the whiff of farty school vegetables I hoped to avoid. Good stuff though, admittedly, hardly splitting the atom so to speak.
Quick method; soften onions and garlic, add lots of fresh, finely chopped rosemary, 1/3 of a swede (chopped), vegetable stock, 3 large potatoes (chopped), simmer until the vegetables are tender. Blitz everything until smooth, season, then finished with a handful of grated cheddar....yum.
The haggisagne was not a dish for me it turns out, but was enjoyed by others at the table. An odd concoction recommended by a colleague, here's how you do it. Or how I did it, anyway.
Simmer gently the wee beast in beef stock for 40 minutes, and remove from the pan to cool. Knock up a basic tomato sauce with the usual suspects. Toast his noble body with a wee dram, then crumble the haggis into the sauce.
Assemble as you would normally a lasagne, with bechamel and a cheesy topping, then bake in the oven for 45 minutes. Et, voila!...or however you might say it in Scottish.
Deep fried mars weren't the taste sensation for which I was hoping, though I'm glad I gave it a shot. I realise that this blog will seem incomplete without a low quality, poorly composed image of battered, greasy confectionery, but we were a bit pissed by this point, and I'm sure you'll get over it. With time, obviously.
The literary highlight was a two page epic, which will be scanned in and uploaded here so you can appreciate it in fully glory. The night was rounded off with a nip of the good stuff and the Scotch Mist episode of Garth Marenghi's Darkplace. Braw, ken?