Waiting for Robert Burns

As we approach the 25th of January Scots around the world turn to the works and wisdom of Robert Burns for inspiration. Alas, I remember him for his incomprehensible prose and his ode to Haggis (sheep offal, spices and oats stuffed into a sheep stomach steamed for hours or days). Not sure of the words anyore but it was some sort of litany of virtues about a glistening pile of steaming entrails and its inherent nobility. "Oh Haggis thy King of Puddings" is in there I think - no doubt a sharp lawyer for Anheuser Busch will be in touch with Burn's estate shortly, seeking among other things a "cease and desist order" from such confusing verse. "Your honour the public might confuse the "King of Puddings" moniker as an endorsement by our product, the "King of Beers!" Just imagine that pairing. I'll have the chilled Bud and the steaming Haggis - the pyloric valve if you have it?

This is real food. The sort of cookery one might expect from half-frozen men in kilts. Men with red noses and cheeks. Men who are feeling no pain after toasting every one from the King to the person that polished their Claymore. Manly toasts made with firey Scots Whisky not to mention downing a pint or two of "Wee heavy" (strong scots ale) . Men who are numb from being subjected to the equivalent of Now 27 played on bagpipes (an instrument with an air bladder also made from sheep entrails I might add).

While I too feel some knship to Burns, perhaps a more muted celebration will be in order - a dram of Balvenie on ferry home with the usual suspects perhaps? Memo to self- lay on some Scots ales for the weekend as well.