Tonight is Rabbie Burns' Night. And although perhaps not as celebrated as Guy Fawkes Night, which includes fireworks and a historical treasonous plot, or Christmas, still it involves celebration and good food. That is, if you like haggis (I do).
It turns out I'm not the only person at work who misses Scotland, so I invited my coworker out for a "Scottish" evening on this very Scottish holiday, to the only Scottish pub in the area - an hour away. Apparently the Scots don't emigrate and then open pubs as frequently as the Irish do.
When I got to the pub there were a dozen or so fiddle players playing Scottish folk music, to set the appropriate stage for Robert Burns' Night. No bagpipes, which was probably a good thing, they're so loud, and the fiddles already made conversation difficult. Though I do love bagpipes (I hear it's love or hate, but no in-between).
The restaurant is packed when I walk in, I can barely get past the entrance. There are at least three gentleman wearing kilts, without Scottish accents, disappointingly, and the average patron's age seems to be 45, with a few children to bring that number down. We started off with a haggis appetizer, and then had other Scottish dishes, that weren't quite like we remembered, of course... About halfway through a man got up (one of the ones with kilts on) and spoke into the microphone, inviting anybody to share with the group music or words, and threatened (promised?) to recite Rabbie Burns' poem "Ode to a Haggis" in two versions, later on.
Another gets up with a fiddle and plays for a minute or two before a guy in plaid trousers (yep, trousers) sits down at our table and asks if we're done fiddling. We both give him blank looks, neither of us having brought a fiddle to play, or even knowing how to play a fiddle. He starts, looks down, sees what he'd taken for a fiddle case is actually a purse, and disappears with an apology for the intrusion. Later he joined the first fiddle player with his own.
Over dessert, the first kilted guy and a very excited patron, also in a kilt, walk in a procession holding up a plate with a haggis on it, to the front of the room. The first gets up to the mic again and starts reciting in an almost-Scottish accent, the aforementioned poem. Which is written in Scots, so unintelligible in the first place, and made more so by the accent. The haggis is sitting out on a tray right up in front, next to a shot of whisky (I've heard Scotch whisky's spelled differently because in the 19th century smugglers made the distinction in order to find a loophole in the prohibition of the importation of alcohol). The poem is read again, this time in English, and then another song is sung.
Evidently there are traditional toasts to the Lassies and the Laddies, and stories that go along with the toasts. The kilted man who read the poem began the toast to the Lassies with some very inappropriate sexual innuendo concerning the microphone - most of the older patrons seemed to find it funny, but we two twentysomethings felt a little out of place. Probably we were the only customers present who weren't tipsy.
We left before the story about the Laddies concluded. All in all, a very entertaining evening and excellent people watching. Especially that one sexagenarian who loudly bemoaned the lack of bagpipes, carried the haggis to the podium, and drank a whisky in salute to the guest of honor.
It turns out I'm not the only person at work who misses Scotland, so I invited my coworker out for a "Scottish" evening on this very Scottish holiday, to the only Scottish pub in the area - an hour away. Apparently the Scots don't emigrate and then open pubs as frequently as the Irish do.
When I got to the pub there were a dozen or so fiddle players playing Scottish folk music, to set the appropriate stage for Robert Burns' Night. No bagpipes, which was probably a good thing, they're so loud, and the fiddles already made conversation difficult. Though I do love bagpipes (I hear it's love or hate, but no in-between).
The restaurant is packed when I walk in, I can barely get past the entrance. There are at least three gentleman wearing kilts, without Scottish accents, disappointingly, and the average patron's age seems to be 45, with a few children to bring that number down. We started off with a haggis appetizer, and then had other Scottish dishes, that weren't quite like we remembered, of course... About halfway through a man got up (one of the ones with kilts on) and spoke into the microphone, inviting anybody to share with the group music or words, and threatened (promised?) to recite Rabbie Burns' poem "Ode to a Haggis" in two versions, later on.
Another gets up with a fiddle and plays for a minute or two before a guy in plaid trousers (yep, trousers) sits down at our table and asks if we're done fiddling. We both give him blank looks, neither of us having brought a fiddle to play, or even knowing how to play a fiddle. He starts, looks down, sees what he'd taken for a fiddle case is actually a purse, and disappears with an apology for the intrusion. Later he joined the first fiddle player with his own.
Over dessert, the first kilted guy and a very excited patron, also in a kilt, walk in a procession holding up a plate with a haggis on it, to the front of the room. The first gets up to the mic again and starts reciting in an almost-Scottish accent, the aforementioned poem. Which is written in Scots, so unintelligible in the first place, and made more so by the accent. The haggis is sitting out on a tray right up in front, next to a shot of whisky (I've heard Scotch whisky's spelled differently because in the 19th century smugglers made the distinction in order to find a loophole in the prohibition of the importation of alcohol). The poem is read again, this time in English, and then another song is sung.
Evidently there are traditional toasts to the Lassies and the Laddies, and stories that go along with the toasts. The kilted man who read the poem began the toast to the Lassies with some very inappropriate sexual innuendo concerning the microphone - most of the older patrons seemed to find it funny, but we two twentysomethings felt a little out of place. Probably we were the only customers present who weren't tipsy.
We left before the story about the Laddies concluded. All in all, a very entertaining evening and excellent people watching. Especially that one sexagenarian who loudly bemoaned the lack of bagpipes, carried the haggis to the podium, and drank a whisky in salute to the guest of honor.
that is QUITE a story. I don't think i've ever celebrated a scottish holiday before but it sounds fun.
ReplyDeleteI would be disappointed there weren't any bagpipes because I actually really love them.
I remember when I was in scotland and we had haggis. it wasn't bad. and I'm sure you'll understand the context when I say that anything haggis is better than British food.
-Ty
I very nearly vomited reading the wiki description of haggis ;)
ReplyDeleteIt takes a strong stomach to eat haggis.
ReplyDeleteIf you love bagpipes, look into Battlefield Band.