Haggis Quest, New York Style

When I signed up for the Burns' Night dinner at St. Andrews Restaurant, I was pretty excited. Not only would I be able to enjoy haggis and other Scottish specialties, but I would also have a great post for Slashfood. Unfortunately, Monika Bartyzel got here ahead of me and did a pretty damned good job of talking up the wonders of the "Great chieftain o' the pudding race." Still, having spent an evening eating offal, sipping scotch, and listening to highland poetry, I'm not quite ready to give up...

My introduction to haggis came on a family trip to Scotland. My mother, who was Jewish and had never quite understood my father's extreme dislike of spices, bought A Feast of Scotland by Janet Warren. As we drove around the countryside, she tore through the tome, alternately giggling, gagging, and exclaiming "You're FREAKING joking!" At the end of all of this, she gazed upon my father and told him that she finally understood his problem. The cookbook featured exactly two spices: salt and pepper, and occasionally exhorted its readers to "add suet to taste." While there is a lot to be said for environment, it was clear that heredity had had at least some effect on my dad's palate.



We also tried haggis on that trip, and had found it blandly enjoyable. As Monika noted, haggis is pretty much designed to hide the flavors of its constituent ingredients. It tastes like a cross between meatloaf and pate; in fact, when we originally had it, it was served with cream and reminded me of pepper-spiced Alouette cheese, albeit with a ground beef texture.

While I don't often feel the need to indulge my Scottish culinary roots, there are times when the siren-song of haggis calls to me. Luckily, Burns' Night, the annual celebration of Scotland's greatest poet, makes a nice, handy occasion to indulge in the culinary desire that dare not speak its name. Better yet, having moved to a major metropolitan center, I am now equipped with the resources necessary to enjoy my Scottish quest. After a bit of research, I discovered that St. Andrews, a Scottish-themed Times Square eatery that I had previously visited, offered a Burns' Night event. Given that my previous experience in the place had been fantastic, I quickly signed up for the evening.

The standard take on Scottish cuisine is that it is, in the words of Saturday Night Live, based on a dare. While the questionable pedigree of haggis might make this seem likely, the truth is that Scottish food is simply bland. Then again, given that it occupies a region where nights are chilly, sheep are legion, winters are long, and spices are rare, it would be far more surprising if Scotland produced food that wasn't bland. Besides, as anybody whose ever munched through a tin of Walker's shortbread might attest, even blandness isn't without its charms.

That having been said, St. Andrews' Burns Night menu charted a nice course between true Scottish cuisine and contemporary American tastes. For example, in addition to haggis and cock-a-leekie soup, the appetizer menu contained smoked salmon with potato pancakes and scallion cream. The dinner and dessert courses offered similar Scottish-accented dishes altered to suit American tastes. My entree was a brook trout stuffed with Scotch oats and crab, then served with asparagus and a Scotch-maple sauce. My wife got a roasted rack of lamb, and Adam (one of the two guys seated at the table next to us) got a horseradish-crusted filet of salmon. For dessert, my wife and I went with the sticky toffee pudding, which was transcendent. Adam got an order of Cranachan, which is also traditionally Scottish and is also delicious.

Of course, Burns' Night is not just about haggis. The staff of St. Andrews made a deal with Glenlivet scotch, and every course had a delicious whisky pairing. With regular interjections from the bagpipe, readings of Burns' poetry, and a recitation of Burns' Address to a Haggis that bordered on interpretive dance, the evening was an absolute blast. As I listened to my fellow diners work their way through Burns' dense Highland verse, I was blown away by how some of his poems remain relevant, long after the lyrics to his Auld Lang Syne have devolved into complete gibberish ("And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught"? Seriously?). I'm already trying to pick the perfect one to recite next year. Right now, this is the front-runner:

Thanksgiving for a National Victory
Ye hypocrites! Are these your pranks?
To murder men and give God thanks!
Desist, for shame! Proceed no further;
God won't accept your thanks for Murther!