As a staunch Unionist I want to have a wee dram to toast the lad himself on this special night. Due to the generosity of friends I have an interesting array of single malts to choose from. I’m leaning towards Laphroaig. Am I right?
As a staunch Unionist I want to have a wee dram to toast the lad himself on this special night. Due to the generosity of friends I have an interesting array of single malts to choose from. I’m leaning towards Laphroaig. Am I right?
If you’re leaning to the right, you’d better get on the politics forum
As a staunch Unionist I want to have a wee dram to toast the lad himself on this special night. Due to the generosity of friends I have an interesting array of single malts to choose from. I’m leaning towards Laphroaig. Am I right?
Drink them in this order:
Glenmorangie Macallan Caol Ila (my fave) Then the Laphroaig
Otherwise, youll destroy your taste buds for the next one!
I only had one! Well 1 and a bit of the Laphroaig. Couldn’t do them all as I had park run this morning.
Had people over for Haggis, neeps and tatties last night and I bought a bottle of Laphroaig for the occasion. Haven’t had it for a few years and I’d almost forgotten how much I love it.
None of the above seem to appetising...Saw enough when I lived there of seeing scotch pies with mash or baked beans on. Nice with brown sauce on though.
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o the puddin'-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o' a grace As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o need, While thro your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; The auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi perfect scunner, Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll make it whissle; An legs an arms, an heads will sned, Like taps o thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies: But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer, Gie her a Haggis
I went to the wee man Burn's cottage when I was a boy. No head space for anyone over 5ft 8in. I saw the Wembley cross bar in the main room, a charcoal drawing of Robert the Bruce and a tapestry of William Wallace in battle gear with the words " Victor at Stirling Bridge 1297 fuck off you Sassenachs".
Beautiful sentiments for any Scots with blue running through their veins.
Seeing the menu of haggis, neeps and tatties in the Kitchen was fine for a main course but didn't fancy the Mars bars in the fryer.
I love performing poetry and Spoken word (only Zoom now) but despite not understanding Rabbie Burns, I loved the cadence of the language.
I went to the wee man Burn's cottage when I was a boy. No head space for anyone over 5ft 8in. I saw the Wembley cross bar in the main room, a charcoal drawing of Robert the Bruce and a tapestry of William Wallace in battle gear with the words " Victor at Stirling Bridge 1297 fuck off you Sassenachs".
Beautiful sentiments for any Scots with blue running through their veins.
Seeing the menu of haggis, neeps and tatties in the Kitchen was fine for a main course but didn't fancy the Mars bars in the fryer.
I love performing poetry and Spoken word (only Zoom now) but despite not understanding Rabbie Burns, I loved the cadence of the language.
I did some work up there about 10 years ago when the museum had a refresh, the cottage was always a bit stinky
Ordered a traditional haggis from Sainsbury's for Mr T and a vegan one for me. They'd run out of vegan haggis so sent me black pudding slices instead. Bastards. Mr T well pleased.
Ordered a traditional haggis from Sainsbury's for Mr T and a vegan one for me. They'd run out of vegan haggis so sent me black pudding slices instead. Bastards. Mr T well pleased.
I know it's a bit late now but both Simon Howie and MacSweens do very good vegan haggis
Had delish haggis, tatties and neeps yesterday. Went to a Burns Night in Pakistan once, an unusual spin on it but was a fabulous event with Pakistan pipers and the full ceremony and speeches etc.
Comments
Glenmorangie
Macallan
Caol Ila (my fave)
Then the Laphroaig
Otherwise, youll destroy your taste buds for the next one!
Haven’t had it for a few years and I’d almost forgotten how much I love it.
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis
Lang may yer lum reek
There's a moose loose aboot this hoose
May yer sporran ne'r wrinkle an yer kilt ne'r shrink
Happy Burns' Nacht
I saw the Wembley cross bar in the main room, a charcoal drawing of Robert the Bruce and a tapestry of William Wallace in battle gear with the words " Victor at Stirling Bridge 1297 fuck off you Sassenachs".
Beautiful sentiments for any Scots with blue running through their veins.
Seeing the menu of haggis, neeps and tatties in the Kitchen was fine for a main course but didn't fancy the Mars bars in the fryer.
I love performing poetry and Spoken word (only Zoom now) but despite not understanding Rabbie Burns, I loved the cadence of the language.
Hope all who are celebrating enjoy themselves
I love haggis but none of my family do so I always have it when I travel up to client sites in Glasgow & Edinburgh.
Obviously not been up there for nearly a year now so am missing it.
I had double helpings last night and had a massive plate of leftovers for lunch today. Wonderful.
Slainte mhath!