I’ve See Many Strange Sights In France

Piping in the haggis on Robbie Burns night may qualify as the strangest

Robbie Burns Night, Montpellier, France (all photos by author)

I’d been in France for a couple of years when some English friends invited me to a Burns Night Supper. Six of us, all Brits, crammed into a car and drove to Montpellier for what I figured would be an event attended mostly by nostalgic ex-pat Scots.

I was wrong. The bagpipes, the flurry of kilts, the prodigious consumption of whiskey and the ceremonial piping in of the haggis would have done any Highlander proud, but the language spoken was French.

France and Scotland, I learned from a guy who offered me a glass of whiskey, share a deep historical relationship dating back to the 13th century. Many Scots lived, studied, or served in France; Burns Night is often embraced in France as a way of celebrating that shared heritage.

And since France is one of the largest consumers of Scotch whisky in the world, Burns Night is a tres bon reason for tastings, distillery events, and themed dinners.

But about the haggis? Does anyone voluntarily eat haggis — unless they’re so sozzled with whiskey they’d eat boiled socks? Something a short-sighted and sufficiently sozzled celebrant could be confused enough to do,

“The Haggis is a dish not more remarkable or more disgusting to the palate, than in appearance. When I first cast my eye on it, I thought it resembled a bullock’s paunch, which you often meet in the streets of London in a wheel-barrow; and, on a nearer inspection, I found it really to be the stomach of a sheep, stuffed till it was as full as a football.(Edward Topham, Letters From Edinburgh, 1775 Wikimedia Commons)

As a Macdonald whose father was from Glasgow, I’ve felt it my duty to at least try haggis, regardless of its less-than-appealing appearance. My first test, from a fish and chip shop in Oban, while waiting for a ferry to Mull, wasn’t bad; the chips that came with it were better. A deep-fried haggis in Aberdeen (also with chips) was so good, I had it again another night. On another visit to Scotland, I tried haggis again, this time in a Glasgow restaurant, where it arrived with neeps and tatties (mashed turnips and potatoes). That, too, was quite tasty. It helped to discover it was more oats than meaty parts.

The friends I was with at the Burns Night supper in Montpellier were all non-meat eaters, so they’d bought a vegetarian haggis — which didn’t taste all that different from the meaty version.

Tatties and, possibly, nippies — or navets as turnips are called i France (author’s photo)

No doubt you have it marked on your calendars, but just in case, Burns Night is coming up on the 25th of January. And, I’m not sure why, but there’s this weird item in my freezer that I plan to cook (also not sure how) and serve with neeps and tatties. My partner (English) has forbidden bagpipe music, but he does have a decent supply of whiskey.

So I’d love to have a wee Burns Night Supper. Since the ex-pats in the village are mostly English or Irish, I’m not really sure who to invite. Possibly some of my French neighbours? Perhaps my French friend Hélène even has a kilt.

(Just noticed it’s past the expiration date, but I’m sure it will be fine. You’re welcome to drop by for a taste.)

Viva la haggis!