Most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare

Oats. A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

~Samuel Johnson

---

I am in the habit of going to lunch with one of my co-workers at the end of each week.  We take it in turns to buy.  Today was my turn.

We normally go in to the west end of the city to one of a small handful of regular restaurants.  Today, whimsically, we went in the other direction on the highway intending to hit a rarely-frequented pizza joint.

Turning down the appropriate street, out of the corner of his eye Chris caught a sign for Docherty's Fish & Chips.

"Hey Si, wanna try it out?"

So instead of pizza, we elected to try out poisson.  Much debate quickly ensued on the proper pronunciation of the name.  Chris opted for the Homeresque "D'oh-erty's" while I fervently supported the slightly more phlegmatic "Dochhhhh-erty's"; easier to say after a stiff single-malt scotch, neat.  My opinion was quickly bolstered by the abundant presence of Scottish, English and Irish cloth banners strewn about the walls.  We never did ask after the truth from one of the employees.

Before ordering, we thought that the fish must be good since all the staff were wearing well-worn T-shirts that had written on the back: Still serving our customers with pride, since 1983.

Still?

It was an order, pay, be seated and we'll bring it out to you sort of establishment.  Chris and I stood at the counter, staring up at the menu, wondering what sort of fish n chips to have.

Fish n chips, Double fish n chips, TRIPLE Fish n chips, Fish n shrimp n chips, Fish n oysters n chips, Shrimp n oysters n chips, Double shrimp n chips...

No, there was no Spam, spam, spam n chips.  I looked.

About to decide on a Double fish n chips, Chris nudged me.  "He Si, look: Haggis n chips."  There, towards the end of the menu, sidling up close to the Mushy Peas, was the haggis.

!!!!

Sweet Laird Robbie Burns!!  The Great Chieftain o' the Puddin' Race itself!  Twelve dollars and eighty cents.  There were no options for Fish n haggis n chips, or Haggis n shrimp n chips.  They at least knew well enough not to attempt to serve it with a supporting cast.  Other than the chips, that is.  I doubted that they had mashed neeps to be served on the side.

Dare I?  I'd not had haggis since this past January's Robbie Burns night at Edmonton's Westin hotel.  One of the last bastions of Scottish (or pseudo-Scottish), testosterone-laden, male chauvinistic pomp and brou-haha that's available to the discerning Albertan male.  (Is that last an oxymoron?)  I always come close to giggling when we toast The Twa Lands.  Toilet humour, how I love thee.

I asked the gal at the till, "So, is the haggis here any good?"  Thinking that she might actually tell me otherwise.  And really, asking if haggis is any good is somewhat akin to, well, asking how enjoyable that bagpipe music was. 

There are very few black and white issues in this world of grey, but the palatability of haggis and the aural appreciation of the bagpipes are two such.  I thoroughly enjoy them both.

"It's very good, yes," was the reply to my query.

"Right then, I'll have the haggis n chips, please."

A short while later, sitting at our table, Chris and I were served each with a mountain of chips.  Perched precariously atop each were, respectively, two massive, battered fish fillets and two fist-sized, also battered, mounds of haggis.

I have never in my life had battered and deep fried haggis.  Now I have.  And it was delicious.

Cutting the inaugural chunk off the first of my fist-sized mounds with my butter knife was a woefully far cry from Trenching yer gushin' entrails bright, as is, of course, the normal course of things when one cuts into a haggis proper.  Though the glistening remnants of having been deep fried did indeed bring to mind, While thro your pores the dews distil, Like amber bead.

All that was really missing, alas, was a wee dram of scotch.

Comments

[Hazel Hazel]

Ok, I'll admit it. I had to look up haggis. But it sounds good. And anything battered and deep-fried...well, let's just say the yum-yum factor goes up about 10-fold.

[Paul]

We'll be sure to share a dram over the weekend.

[Mark]

Haggis... heard of it, but never tried it. I just might make the plunge had I the deep-fried option. Can't say I've seen it in a restaurant -- ever. So, I've wondered, is there a lot of Scottish and/or Irish culture to be had in Canada? I know Canada's a very large place, and obviously Quebec isn't going to feature folks in kilts. I ask because it seems Mike Meyers (sp.) also of Canadian origin, has Scottish roots, and you and other Canadians (Canadiens?) mention the Homeland quite a bit. I say Homeland because I have lots of Irish in me, and a bit of Scottish, I think.

[wil]

Lor!! What a horrible thing to do to a defenseless haggis!

What next? Kippered brook trout???