Rabbie Burns, Drinking Holidays and the Haggis Taco

photo by Ariel Dovas

It seems our reprieve here along the north Atlantic seaboard from the icy grasp of winter has finally ended. Lulled into a false sense of security by a Christmas that nearly hit 70 degrees here in New York, we forgot that the snowy grip of cold days would inevitably tighten around our throats sooner or later. Perhaps this is for the best. Seeing people walk around New York City on Christmas Eve in shorts drained the holiday of some of its seasonal festivity. I can't imagine what a semi-tropical Burns Night would be like, with friends and family gathered around the haggis to discuss how warm out it is. Some holidays call for the cold, and Burns Night on January 25th is one of them. It's a celebration of Scottish poet Robert Burns, who wrote about whisky as often as Chinese poet Li Po wrote about getting drunk on wine and falling into the river while trying to catch the reflection of the moon. It's also one of the best drinking holidays we have.

photo by ryuu ji

I was just reading an article on Atlas Obscura about the lost tradition of entertaining oneself and one's company by getting together and reading aloud. For Victorians, it was partly because, well, they didn't have a whole lot else going on when it was too dark, too cold, too rainy to go out. No Internet, no Netflix, no Youtube video of some dude freaking out about a pie. It's why they spent so much time in mad science labs stitching together creatures out of old body parts. or when they weren't doing that, playing piano or sitting around reading to one another. It wasn't just about having no other options for entertainment. It was a chance, in a very regimented society, for people to break the rules without actually breaking the rules. To flirt, for example, without seeming improprietous. After all you are merely reading; merely playing a part. And since no Burns Night is proper without a reading of his poetry -- at the very least, "Address to a Haggis" is de rigueur -- we get at least for that night a taste of what it was like before people simply lost themselves in the screens of their phones or relied on cat videos to entertain. Something draws a room closer together when it's a present human voice and human expression providing the evening's entertainment.

Obviously, it's also a good night to open that special bottle of whisky. Burns Night without whisky is like celebrating Repeal Day with cold-pressed kale juice.

It goes without saying that, for this night, at least, we should stick with scotch. Burns himself lived during the latter half of the 1700s, so if you can find something from his era to open with friends, well then more power to you and I hope you stored it properly and have a physician standing by. For the rest of us, a special bottle doesn't mean your oldest or your most expensive or your rarest. It means a bottle that means something to you. In my household, there are two bottles I use to mark special occasions like Burns Night. The first, though dwindling, is the Glenrothes 1991 vintage. It's the first "expensive" bottle of single malt scotch I bought, back when shelling out $70 was a major decision. The second is Strathisla 12, because Strathisla is the first scotch distillery I ever visited.

photo by jthornett

If a third is called for, I fall back on simple, steady Chivas 12 (made with quite a bit of Strathisla, coincidentally), the scotch my grandfather drank religiously and the first scotch I ever had, back when I was still in elementary school and thought it would taste like butterscotch ("notes of butterscotch" means something really different). After badgering them for months, my dad and grandfather decided one Christmas Eve, "Sure, kid. Have a belt of Chivas." It went...poorly...for me. But that is another story.

As for food, well a proper haggis can be hard to come by here in the United States owing to our distrust of sheep lungs, but certain specialty shops will make a pretty close facsimile for you. You do need access to one of those shops; walking into Kroger's or Stop & Shop and demanding of the butcher "prepare for me a haggis!" yields questionable results at best. Asking them for Cullen skink will probably get you directed to the nearest herpetological center. Cock-a-leekie will probably get you sent to the doctor for an exam, or to jail. So you'll be cooking at home, with as best as you can approximate the traditional ingredients. Or you can do what we do, which is put a twist on your traditional Burns Night haggis by using it to make that most American of foods; the taco. A can of Caledonian Kitchen brand haggis (sorry, I don't have a sheep farm where I can harvest fresh intestines and lungs) cut with the proper amount of taco sauce and a bit of lettuce, cheese, and tomato yields lovely results.

photo by jesper2cv

If your weather is particularly nasty this Burns Night -- and it looks like for many of us, it will be -- it might also be advisable to further fortify yourself with a dram or two of particularly strong, particularly peaty spirit well-suited for insulating one against the bitterness of a winter storm. Highland Park comes from a place where one is practically required to stand atop a cliff, surveying the tumultuous ocean churning below you as salty mist sprays you in the face and ominous storm clouds roll in. So a Highland Park 18 year old is a perfect dram to raise for that final toast before you step into the dark on your way home. Myself, I make a ritual of drinking a dram of Talisker Storm (gold medal, 2014 NY International Spirits Competition) anytime especially dramatic weather besieges the city. If it's really cold and beastly out -- and on the news, they're already panicking about this weekend hosting a storm of the century (or at least of the year) -- then send your guests or yourself into the breach with the burliest of Islay single malts; nothing defends against the chill and staves a cold (claim not verified by the FDA) in quite so delicious a fashion as a 10-year-old Laphroaig Cask Strength.

Drinking holidays, those days on which drinking plays a crucial role rather than simply being a by-product of human gathering, are a bit unique in that just about all of them celebrate creativity, freedom, and personal expression. This is no holy event with heads bowed to remember something profound and serious. This is no night during which we prove our piety through abstinence. No, friends, we're not here to deny human happiness or steadfastly avoid a healthy bit of indulgence. Burns Night certainly has its rituals, but if they are executed with dour solemnity, then you've missed the point. "Freedom and Whisky gang thegither!" wrote Burns, and no better battle cry is there when we raise our glasses high to remember the poet.

So we gather to drink, to read aloud, to make merry fools of ourselves and chase away the frosty chill waiting outside the front door. And if you should find yourself alone on Burns Night, well then no need to fret. Just take Li Po's advice and invite the moon and your shadow to share cups with you.