I am not a fan of haggis. I personally think that it tastes like a petting zoo smells. Others might describe this taste as gamey, but I disagree: venison is gamey; haggis tastes like chopped up farm animals seasoned with dead flies, excrement, and those smelly little food pellets children can buy for a quarter (although probably a buck now, with inflation) to feed the critters.
Okay, I’m exaggerating. I can tolerate haggis just fine (though it really does taste like a petting zoo), and I’m sure PROPER haggis made by a sassy Scotsman is ever-so-tasty, but I was insulted (well, I would have been insulted if I wasn’t a guest and eating for free) that the presentation and texture (very mealy) of this year’s haggis was so damn poor. Oh, St Cross, my fair St Cross! How far you’ve slipped since I graduated. Even the Scots complained! Let’s compare.
Above is the 2009 haggis. Lovely boiled meat, complete with a condom-esque hat made from stomach. Presentation was spot on; this was some serious Scottish sustenance. Unfortunately, the recession, laziness, or just the fact that Oxford wasn’t expecting its pickiest student to return to Oxford so soon after his graduation, produced the 2010 haggis:
Stripped of its stomachy yarmulke, our 2010 is dwarfed by crudely mashed swede and some disgustingly overcooked shredded cabbage. Eating it was like chewing on a rain-soaked cardboard box that had been slept on by a sixty-five year-old wino. I quickly swapped to the vegetarian version, made from nuts, and washed that down with copious amounts of wine and whiskey.
But that’s just how I roll on Burns’ Night, the only night of the year where you can get me to dance a ceilidh. You can see the end result of all that liquor here and here.
The verdict on haggis? You should try it, just so you can have some culinary street cred (much like I boast about eating heart, intestine, live fish, and whale sperm). However, if you do try it, make sure you have some potent potables to wash (read: eliminate the aftertaste) it down.
