Cyric's Mad Mad Blog

I had the privilege of attending the Scottish Festival & Highland Games this weekend in Highlands Ranch, Colorado. I haven't been to a Highland Games since I went to the one in Estes Park about eight years ago, and had almost forgotten how much fun these things are.

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, I offer the following link. In addition to watching people throw around trees, introducing myself to several irish wolfhounds and their owners (while trying to figure out if I can convince my landlord that they weigh less than 85lbs), and trying to figure out where I can pick up an extra $2k for an Aryll outfit (think I can convince my landlord to let me skip rent for a few months too?), I naturally had to sit down and help myself to a nice plate of haggis, neeps, and tatties.

The amusing part of all this is one of the first signs one sees upon entering the festival is "1:30: Free Haggis (If You Dare)" which speaks well to me of the poor reputation this dish has earned - punctuated nicely by the nausea and pure horror I saw on the faces of those whom I work with upon informing them that I planned to indulge in some haggis while at the games.

I think haggis just really has a bad rep. I mean, it is really nothing more than chopped meat, oatmeal, and spices. People tend to get hung up on the fact that the meat is offal, but seem to forget that hot dogs and even breakfast sausages can also make that claim. The notion of it being boiled in the stomach of a sheep also tends to turn faces green, but again - sausage is supposed to be cooked in pig intestines.

Having never tried cow testicles or snails, I can't rightly say that everyone should try haggis, but as long as we're living in a world in which people will shovel pounds and pounds of raw fish down their throats, I have a hard time understanding why haggis is so reviled. It's not surprising really. I think a lot of Scottish culture falls under the "love to hate" category in the United States.

We swooned as a culture when Mel Gibson donned a kilt and paraded around in some tale loosely based on actual history - seems like everyone was Scottish after that movie came out - but when it comes time to listen to bagpipes or eat haggis, the swooning stops and the ridicule begins. Overall, I'm okay with this - it means more for me and fewer people clogging the festival. My contention, however, is if the sound of the massed pipes doesn't make your blood stir, there's just something wrong with your soul.

While I make no claim of being a true Scot (which would be difficult to do, being an American), I make no apologies for finding the most enjoyment in that particular part of my heritage. I think there are those of us who are drawn toward the cultures of our ancestors since the United States offers so little genuine culture of its own.

And while my own particular haggis experience - spoonfulls of food on a plastic plate eaten with a plastic fork and washed down with a swallow of cheap scotch - may seem culturally bankrupt to a true Scot, it afforded me a small taste of that part of my heritage. While we may not have been treated to a feast worthy of Burns himself, there were friendly people, amusing banter, and a fine reading of Addressing the Haggis for us to enjoy. I must remember to attend more of these festivals.