Burns’ Night celebrations are international, and with GSW being from the land of Burns, we decided to have a Burns Night, Geordie style.
Main course was haggis, ‘neeps and tatties, accompanied by a dram or Irn Bru for those who don’t like whisky so much (not saying anything, but both those people not so struck on whisky, or the water of life as its known, are Scottish, weird huh?).
Wee aside for those not familiar with Irn Bru (the day-glo orange drink in the photo above), it is a Scottish fizzy soft drink often described as ” Scotland’s other national drink” by the manufacturer’s adverts. It contains an ammonium ferric citrate salt which gives the drink its rust colour. So although it contains trace amounts of iron, it’s not made from girders. But it is very popular in Russia, possibly due to the fact that it is an almost universal mixer for any alcoholic drink, especially cheap blended whisky (my personal least favourite drink).
We served a mild peppercorn sauce with dinner as haggis, neeps and tatties can be a bit dry despite the fact that I mashed the turnip with butter and black pepper.
The second course was home made sticky toffee pudding and custard. I only decided to make this when dinner was half cooked so there was a bit of a gap between the main course and pudding. But it was worth waiting for. I hate to think what the calorific content was though. We will all have to go for a brisk walk tomorrow to burn it off.
To round off dinner, we had black coffee, shortbread and after dinner mints. GSM refused coffee, preferring to savour her whisky and ginger.
Too much fresh air, then food and drink does this to GS
During the meal we played recitations of Burns’ poems. We tried to get GSS to recite “Tam O’ Shanter” but he was too cool for that. To make up for it, here are my favourite passages from the poem which should be called “How a lovely horse lost her tail saving her drunken sot of an owner”. They are all still true…
“…our hame, where sits our sulky, sullen dame, gathering her brows like gathering storm, nursing her wrath to keep it warm,”
“Ah, gentle dames, it gars me greet, to think how monie cousels sweet, how monie lengthened sage advices, the husband frae the wife despises”
“But pleasures are like poppies spread; you seize the flower, its bloom is shed.”
“…Nannie, far before the rest, hard upon Maggie prest, and flew at Tam wi furious ettle; but little wist she Maggie’s mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale, but left behind her ain grey tail: the carlin claught her by the rump, and left poor Maggie scarce a stump.”
“Now wha this tale o’ truth shall read, ilk man, and mother’s son tak heed: whene’er to drink ye are inclined, or cutty sarks run in yer mind, think! ye may buy the joys o’er dear; remember Tam O’Shanter’s mare.”
A couple of years ago we went to see an exhibition of Goudie’s paintings depicting scenes from Tam O’ Shanter (some were quite gory!) in Ayr (Auld Ayr, wha ne’er a toun surpasses, for honest men and bonnie lasses). Maggie the horse looked like a grey version of our own Cushy Butterfield. I’d be sorry if Cushy lost her long blonde ponytail! And when you think of it, Tam got drunk in Ayr and the rode all the way past Alloway and Maybole to get to Shanter which is nearly at Maidens, not a small distance. In the pitch black (no street lights in the 1700s), in a storm, riding past places where murdered children were found, where Charlie broke his neck, where Mungo’s mother hung herself etc. This is the Scottish equivalent of Sleepy Hollow. Read it if you dare!
The Geordie Smallholder 