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Slainte : Scotland’s Immortal Bard
By Edythe Preet
 In
case any reader has ever wondered how a gal named Preet could claim Irish
ancestry, here’s my genealogy: my maiden name was Burns, my father
was George Burns (Mom heard many a ‘So are you Gracie?’ wisecrack),
and Dad’s mom was a McCaffrey, born in County Fermanagh.
Like thousands of Northern Ireland’s population, Margaret McCaffrey
was a descendant of the many Scots who emigrated to neighboring Eire during
the 16th and 17th centuries.
While Dad was Irish to the core, he held one particular Scotsman in highest
esteem: Robert Burns, Scotland’s Immortal Bard. Dad loved poetry,
and he took great pleasure reciting his ancestor’s rhymes (especially
the racy or politically barbed verses) with vigor and full brogue. So
it is to the Scots-Irish among us that I dedicate this article.
Every New Year’s Eve, as the clock strikes 12, people the world
over raise their glasses in a toast and their voices in song: “Lest
auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind ... we’ll
take a cup o’ kindness yet for auld lang syne.” Those heartfelt
words, enjoining us to always remember and hold dear the good times and
good friends we have known, were penned by Robert Burns.
Burns, the man, was a humble country farmer. Burns, the poet, was a romantic,
a humorist, a philosopher, a champion of human rights, and a fervent patriot.
Born Jan. 25, 1756, he lived in a time of
international political upheaval that witnessed the American, Irish, and
French revolutions, which changed the course of history. His sentiments
won the hearts of his countrymen and patriots everywhere, and his words
are etched forever in the English language.
“A man’s a man for a’ that,” the phrase that has
become a mantra of oppressed people the world over, is found in the allegorical
epic Tam O’Shanter. “The best laid schemes o’ mice and
men’’ appears in “To a Mouse,” and “To see
ourselves as others see us” in “To a Louse” (which he
was inspired to write one Sunday in church while watching one of the loathsome
blood-suckers crawl about a fellow parishoner’s shoulders). The
poem, “Man Was Made To Mourn” addresses the injustice and
inequality of the human condition, and “My Love Is Like a Red Red
Rose” is the paragon ode to ardent and enduring love.
Throughout his life Burns fought the force of the establishment with the
power of poetry. Nothing, and no one, escaped the scathing satire and
wry humor of his pen. At a time when speaking up was the surest and quickest
route to exile and deportation, Burns boldly criticized the Crown, the
Church and the entire legal profession. He wrote of justice, honor, love
and freedom – the highest of human ideals. He articulated the grief
of his disenfranchised nation and encouraged all people far and wide who
would dream of higher aspirations.
From his deathbed, Burns whispered, “In a hundred years, they will
remember me,” and indeed they have. On January 25th in bonny Scotland
and wherever those of Caledonian descent are found, Burns Night Suppers
honor the Bard in a way that would please him immensely – with food
and drink and caustic verse aplenty.
The stars of the evening, other than Burns himself, are the haggis and
malt whisky. Taken separately they are notably delicious, consumed together
they are ambrosia fit for the gods. Though many food critics disparage
the haggis as coarse peasant fare, this most quintessential of Gaelic
dishes is truly a gourmet’s delight.
Admittedly, perusing haggis recipes can be somewhat off-putting because
they call for minced offal (heart, tongue, liver and lung) to be mixed
with oats, salt and pepper, then stuffed into sheep or cow tripe (stomach),
trussed closed and boiled for hours. Letting the description dissuade
you from tasting it would be a classic case of judging a book by its cover.
Indulging in a plateful of steaming, spicy, sliced haggis is one of life’s
great taste treats, especially when said slices are liberally doused with
a fine, aged, malt whisky.
How haggis came to be Scotland’s best-known menu item is a matter
for conjecture. In prehistoric times, slices of meat could be smoked over
an open fire and kept for later use without spoiling, but the “humbles,”
or innards, spoiled quickly, and it was necessary to consume them as soon
as possible.
Prior to the invention of pots and pans, the easiest way to cook bits
and pieces of meat was to place them in the animal’s bag-like stomach
and boil the whole affair in a water-filled pit heated with red-hot stones.
Adding grain (in Scotland and Ireland, it was oats) allowed the nutrient-rich
juices to be absorbed rather than dissipating into the cooking liquid.
By the late 18th century, Scotland had been joined with Ireland, Wales,
and England to form the United Kingdom, and while haggis was still the
most popular Scottish meal, many gentrified Scots were attempting to modify
their national culture by adopting English pronunciation to fit into the
new society. Burns lambasted the trend by writing “The Address to
the Haggis,” a pointed social satire in a full, flaming Scots dialect.
It was an instant hit. More than 200 years later, it is still recited
in a broad brogue at every Burns Supper.
The night’s other star player is malt whisky. Arabia gets the credit
for devising the alcohol-distillation process, which was subsequently
discovered by monks traveling through the Middle
East in the early days of Christianity. When the Church began sending
missionaries to Ireland and Scotland in the 6th century, the pious prelates
applied the same technique to a brew of the local grains – malt
and barley – and invented malt whisky. Gaels took to the drink like
ducks to water.
Should you choose to host a Burns Night Supper, be advised that there
is a formula to the event. The evening festivities begin with a welcome,
followed by recitation of the Grace Before the Meal, which Burns delivered
when he supped with the Earl of Selkirk who shared the poet’s libertine
political views. “Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat
that want it. But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Laird be thankit.”
The meal begins with a serving of cockaleekie soup, after which a steaming
hot haggis is ceremoniously brought into the room to the wail of bagpipes.
An honored guest then recites “The Address to the Haggis”
and all toast his performance with glasses of whisky, after which the
noble haggis is retired to be sliced and dished up with portions of its
traditional accompaniments – neeps and tatties (mashed turnips and
potatoes).
While waiting for dinner to be served, the evening’s honored guest
speaks to the memory of the Immortal Bard, and more whisky is downed.
Then a gentleman delivers The Toast to the Lassies (usually full of tongue-in-cheek
wordplay) and more whisky is downed. Then a lady responds with The Toast
to the Laddies (usually a wee bit bawdy) and more whisky is downed.
While dining on the haggis (over each serving of which is poured a healthy
measure of whisky), guests take turns reciting their favorite Burns verses,
and after each performance more whisky is downed. When the dishes have
been cleared, it’s time for dancing to the tune of fiddles and bagpipes,
and between each reel more whisky is downed.
When everyone is nigh unto swooning from the heady pace of the dance,
all hoist their once-again full glasses of whisky in a final toast and
raise their voices in song: “Lest auld acquaintance be forgot and
never brought to mind, we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for
auld lang syne.” Sláinte!
NOTE: Information on staging a Burns Supper – including poems,
toasts, and songs – can be found at: www.milwburnsclub.org/
bsupper.htm
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