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Related: Culture Forums, Support ForumsHappy Robbie Burns day!
Robert Burns was born Jan. 25, 1759. His birthday is celebrated all over the world. Best known for having written To a Mouse and Auld Lang Syne, he also wrote Address to a Haggis, an ode to Scotlands notorious national dish. Burns called it the great chieftain o the pudding race, but if you find it hard to think of haggis as a delicacy, think of it as sheep recycling. In honour of Burns, lets consider the haggis, which he immortalized with a grace as langs my arm.
They say those who love sausages wouldnt want to know what goes into making them. That goes double for Scotlands chieftain of sausages. How haggis is made is a simple question to answer: take a sheeps heart, liver, lungs and anything tasty that might be stuck to them, mince them up with onions, oats and suet (or maybe sweat), fry it all up and sew it into the sheeps stomach or intestine (whichever you find more appetizing). The next question is why? It is a way to enjoy and preserve those precious, tasty bits that might get you through a few cauld winter nichts.
http://www.postcity.com/Eat-Shop-Do/Eat/January-2012/Got-haggis-You-should-its-Robbie-Burns-Day/
Rambis
(7,774 posts)geardaddy
(24,926 posts)PassingFair
(22,434 posts)"Parcel of Rogues"
IcyPeas
(21,866 posts)Address To The Tooth-Ache
by Robert Burns
My curse upon thy venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang;
And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes;
Our neighbors' sympathy may ease us,
Wi' pitying moan;
But thee -- thou hell o' a' diseases,
Aye mocks our groan!
Adown my beard the slavers trickle!
I kick the wee stools o'er the mickle,
As round the fire the giglets keckle,
To see me loup;
While raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup.
O' a' the num'rous human dools,
Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools,
Or worthy friends rak'd i' the mools,
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools,
Thou bear'st the gree.
Where'er that place be priests ca' hell,
Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell,
And ranked plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu' raw,
Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bear'st the bell
Amang them a'!
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes of discord squeel,
'Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
In gore a shoe-thick ;-
Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
A towmond's Tooth-ache!
MichaelMcGuire
(1,684 posts)frogmarch
(12,153 posts)I love all his poems, but "Tam O'Shanter and the Witches" is my favorite!
RebelOne
(30,947 posts)But at that time I was not a vegetarian. I remember that it was really tasty.