mary eats

Haggis. It’s a squirmy word, Haggis.

Haggis never entered my mind as one of those gross out foods that people from across the pond ate. It was, rather, a vegetarian tale from the crypt. Like the Scared Straight television show in the 1970’s where troubled children experienced first hand the horrors of prison to scare them away from crime, telling the tale of Haggis was a vegetarian’s way to pull already jittery eaters into the land of pulses and veggies. More effective when told around a campfire with a flashlight.

I mean really, entrails encapsulated in a sheep’s stomach?

Having recently returned from a trip to Glasgow, our friends Gill and Tony invited Kevin and I over to sample the haggis Tony had smuggled though Korean customs in his suitcase; one vegetarian, and one the real McCoy.

Like Vogue columnist and “The Man Who Ate Everything” author Jeffery Steingarten, who “decided the same day he was appointed food critic at Vogue that he should get rid of his food phobias, by eating all the things he didn’t like to see if his opinion would change.” I too have decided to revisit foods that would normally cause me to wiggle at the thought.

Wine and coffee certainly weren’t part of my repertoire when I was twelve; why not give things like mushrooms and artichokes a shot too?

Haggis though was going to be a test. Could I stand up to this new creed?

Earlier in the day Gill had thoughtfully sent a link to a Haggis site to familiarize myself with my dinner.

Here are some facts about Haggis courtesy of MacSween

• MacSween is unable to send haggis to the following destinations due to import restrictions: USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, China, Switzerland.
• Haggis is made of lamb, beef, oatmeal, onions, and spices.
• Haggis is one of Scotland’s most celebrated products.
• Poet Robert Burns elevated the status of Haggis with a poem, and on January 25, the anniversary of the poet’s birthday, people allover Scotland enjoy a meal of haggis.
• Haggis is ceremoniously stabbed.
• Visitors to Scotland often think that haggis is an animal, and are curious to know how they are hunted.

So this is what I’ve been dreading? This, something I’d expect to be on an episode of the stunt game show “Fear Factor” or gonzo eater Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations”? Please, haggis looked no more loathsome than a hotdog.

Enter Gill and Tony’s apartment, a warm space in the drizzly Korean Monsoon. A lovely rustic soup with pasta and colorful veggies emitted homey aromas. A loaf of real sourdough bread and a generous nub of butter graced the table.

After a glorious first course the haggis was brought from the oven. Gill and Tony stabbed it with a knife and, for the amusement of Kevin and I, recited the Burns poem (or what they could remember of it).

Scooping the sausage from the casing Tony informed us, “It’s the only sausage where you don’t eat the casing.”

“Well, there you have it.” I thought, “What’s the big deal. I can do this.”
Breaking me from my thoughts, Gill asked if I would like to try the meat version.
“Sure,” I say, “if its only lamb and beef, I can handle that.”
“It is lamb and beef,” Tony hesitated. “But it is the stomachs, the guts, all the parts that aren’t normally used.”

Suddenly the room became a little warmer, and my heart began to beat a little faster. Is this why MacSween can’t import haggis to the States? The website didn’t mention guts.

Slowly breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I head my voice. “Well, I’ll just try a bite.”

What. What? Did I just say that? Really? It must have been the wine talking.

Standing in front of the stove Gill gracefully ladled he most comfortable of comfort dishes, a sweet mash of carrots and sweet potatoes that was stunning, and classic mashed potatoes, onto our plates. I instantly decided to go for those first.

Composed of legumes, nuts, oatmeal, onions, and spices, vegetarian haggis, introduced in 1984 and now approved by the Vegetarian Society, was pleasantly toothsome. On the plate it was more akin to a grain pilaf than a fake meat product. If they can ship it to Korea, I plan to buy more.

But here we arrive at the main event, the real haggis: the cold sweat inducing, stomach stuffed with innards. Like an out of body experience, I watched the spoon near my mouth. On autopilot the chewing motions began. “Don’t think about the stomach, don’t think about the livers.” I silently murmured to myself.

Puffed oats, provided a contrasting texture for the smooth, almost paste like meats. Spices popped with heat, and before I knew to do otherwise, an opinion was forming in my head.

I liked it.

Like a ghost story that is exposed for it’s obvious flaws. Haggis has come round; nothing to squirm about, nothing for a vegetarian to fear. Next January 25, if you find yourself without a reason to celebrate, grab some haggis, and a book of Burns.