Mary Queen of Haggis?

Dr. Samuel Johnson, in his famous English dictionary defined the word oats the following way: "a grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people". Whether this statement speaks more towards Dr. Johnson's distaste for the people of Scotland or for their food is a matter of personal opinion, but one thing is for certain, the people of Scotland are not known for their culinary accomplishments. This, we must remember is a country that prides themselves on their ability to create an alcohol whose main function is keeping one warm (some might drink Scottish whiskey for the taste, but I am not one of them. This became painfully apparent at a free whiskey tasting where after making two pained faces politely excused myself from the proceedings). While every country has its culinary quirks, I have never encountered one so widely loved by the people as haggis seems to be here in Edinburgh.

I have a confession to make. I am practically fearless when it comes to traveling. I thought nothing of crossing the straight of Gibraltar to travel in Morocco. When no one would go with me I marched across the Texas border into Mexico by myself a year ago. I dream of taking the Trans-Siberian railroad across Asia and Russia someday. Despite all the things I have done and am willing to do when it comes to strange foods I shrink back into my shell and quietly pine for a grilled chicken sandwich and iced tea. I refused to try snails in France, wouldn't hear of mussels in Brussels, and generally avoid anything I can't find available in the US. This fear became most apparent when travelling with my mom a few years ago she didn't think twice about ordering the questionable looking kebab from a street vendor (for those of you unsure what this is it looks like a giant cone of different types of meat and fat that rotates on a spit and the vendor shaves off into a pita). I looked it up and down and ordered a side of fries thank you very much. My mom had previously asked me if it was safe to fly Airfrance (I love you mom) . I knew then I had a problem.

Above you can see my breakfast this morning, sans the haggis. Normally, I wouldn't be so bothered by my unwillingness to take part in an edible local tradition, but this seems to be very prevalent. I went to a local cafe this morning that was packed for Sunday breakfast. You stood in a line and picked 5 things you wanted from a selection. I would proudly eat Dr. Johnsons oats anyday over this meat patty. Imagine my surprise when every person in front of me ordered the haggis! When I didn't the man behind me asked me if I was to afraid to try some real Scottish food. I replied that I didn't think it was for me, to which he cried, "Not for you! Mary Queen of Scots herself ate haggis"! While I don't know if this particular tidbit is true (Scots seem to have a flare for adding embellishments to help them make their case), I know Mary, when she came back to Scotland from France embraced a culture she never knew. She left the superior comforts of the French court and wholeheartedly made herself the Scottish Queen. I vowed to the proud Scot that I would try his country's food no matter how adverse to lamb intestines I might be. So, tomorrow morning before I leave for the highlands, stomach be damned I will have a breakfast of Haggis in the tradition of Mary Queen of Scots herself and earn my title of fearless traveller! Maybe I should order some whiskey to wash it down...