{"id":1010606,"date":"2021-06-24T20:24:46","date_gmt":"2021-06-25T01:24:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jahangiri.us\/2020\/?p=846"},"modified":"2026-06-18T13:24:59","modified_gmt":"2026-06-18T18:24:59","slug":"ode-to-a-sassenach-haggis-part-one-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jahangiri.us\/2020\/ode-to-a-sassenach-haggis-part-one-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Ode to a Sassenach Haggis"},"content":{"rendered":"

I had never been to Scotland. I am 1\/4 Scottish on my father’s father’s side. My ancestors hail from Lanarkshire (which I’m told is “LAN-erk-shur” not “La-NARK-shur”), with surnames like Forsythe and Ferguson. I like a good single malt whiskey, but I’m no snob about it. I am culinary-curious and adventurous<\/a> about trying “odd” foods, so long as I’m reasonably sure they can’t actually kill me. I’ve cooked tripe, and balut<\/a>, but I draw the line at casu marzu, brain matter (because prions), and anything that’s endangered or still breathing when it’s plated.<\/p>\n

For the last several years, I’ve meant to celebrate Burns Night<\/a>. What self-respecting poet, descended of proud Scots, could resist? All I really know about it is that it involves haggis, bagpipes, and poetry. I’m all in.<\/p>\n

Just one small problem: I have never tried<\/em> haggis, let alone cooked<\/em> it.<\/p>\n

I have never made sausage, never touched a “casing.” I remember my parents using an antique sausage stuffer to make potatis korv<\/a>, I think I announced, then, as a young child, that I had no intention, ever, of doing that<\/em>. I didn’t even stick around to watch. I don’t know what’s become of that machine, but I could have used it this morning. Still, I don’t imagine the early makers of haggis had a crank-operated sausage stuffer in the field, so – wienies. Stuff those casings by hand. If I can manage it, so can you.<\/p>\n

Back when I had my tripely adventures, my husband wisely had a “back up pizza” on hand, and ceremoniously brought it round from the living room as I served up the two-day concoction of tripe and dumplings in white wine that only my father-in-law thought was worth a second helping. I doubt he loved the dish, but he disliked waste. My husband and I had one, simple pre-nup when we got married, 35 years ago: Neither of us could ever cook and serve anything involving liver and expect the other to eat it. Well, you can’t make a proper haggis without liver, but he’s free to fend for himself. It’s Burns Night, after all.<\/p>\n

Recipe for a Sassenach Haggis<\/h2>\n

Ingredients<\/h3>\n

Finding real haggis, or the ingredients to make<\/em> an authentic haggis is all but impossible in the U.S.A., thanks to a ban on commercial sales of sheep’s lungs, coupled with Americans’ general squeamishness when it comes to offal. It’s a bit like a meat-themed scavenger hunt, and if you don’t know of a good butcher – if you’re stuck with chain grocery stores – you may have to improvise. I’ve improvised, altering the recipe I found at Chowhound<\/a> to suit what I was<\/em> able to find. Now, you wouldn’t expect the Tripe Marketing Board<\/a>, Regional Director, US South East <\/a>to skimp on the offal, so logically assuming that sweetbreads – which I’ve never tasted, nor cooked – would be a reasonable substitute for lungs, and chicken livers a reasonable substitute for lamb’s liver (not!), and beef heart a reasonable substitute for lamb’s heart (who knows?!), I assembled the following:<\/p>\n