Burns Night Supper 2020
Last year, I said I’d only darken this virtual doorway if I had decent photos to share. However, I’m a liar. The photos were tragic, yet here I am. No matter, the party was lovely and I feel compelled to share regardless. It will be short and sweet as we basically followed the same flow as last year with a few changes…
This time around I ditched the tablecloths and opted for a more relaxed, natural wood look. I tracked down a beast of a wooden table with folding legs from an online classifieds site and put a lot of energy into convincing my husband to help me retrieve it. Note: our car broke down the day I was supposed to pick it up and I was forced to force C (my husband) to agree that we needed to rent a truck. It was all a bit much, but I’m actually really glad I stuck with my obsession. It will get a lot of use and it’s close enough in colour to our rough-hewn one that they work as one 13-foot table―perfect for our fifteen guests. I dialed the decor back, focusing on a bit of tartan down the centre of the table with greenery (bay, heather, ivy & sitka spruce) and candles. I made two heather wreaths from alpine mint, ivy, and heather (obvs) and placed them on either side of our Burns portrait―an idea lifted directly from my favourite Burns Night source guildencrantz. I draped tartan blankets here and there, but kept things fairly casual and unfussy. Still, even with less decorating we managed to find ourselves running behind. Not to point fingers, BUT when C said he was running to the store 1.5 hours before our guests were expected to arrive, I had a bad feeling. He’s run out for ice or just “20-minutes” before and it almost always results in a speed bump. However, he’d been working to deadline all week and was doing all the cooking. It’s not like I could forbid it. Or drug him…or slash the tires of the rented truck.
Like last year, we asked our guests to gather outside on our front porch, but this time we served hot toddies while they waited for the stragglers. This felt more hospitable and set a jolly tone as we prepared to be “piped in”. Unfortunately, we were terribly frazzled at this point as the haggis went in late and we just didn’t quite have it together. Moments before the guests arrived I was desperately trying to buckle C into his sporran while he poured whisky into glasses. It was definitely not as sexy as it sounds. And we learned something new―being unprepared for a Burns Supper can make one want to murder one’s partner. But as we had no time for actual killing, we settled for snapping at each other viciously just before opening the door to hand out the drinks. IF I can convince C to do it again next year, we will have to figure out a way to stay on track and to time. Not missing a beat, A (our 9-year-old son) led the procession to “Scotland the Brave” via a bluetooth speaker held high over his head. Our friends followed him to the table to find their spots. Despite the tension (that hopefully remained between us), the procession was great. I am so bummed we didn’t get any photos. Note, this post will contain much whinging about photos.
Next, came the piping in of the haggis. This is my favourite part of the evening. It’s so delightfully weird and so very un-Canadian. Here, outside of a sporting event, folks (me) are generally too reserved to even clap in unison for fear of silliness. But, bring a gorgeous monster of a haggis out on a bed of greens to be paraded it about to the tune of “A Man’s A Man For a’ That” and you’d be surprised by the enthusiasm.
Instead of assigning each guest a poem, we split up the “Address to the Haggis,” giving a stanza to each guest or couple. This eliminated some of the performance anxiety our friends were feeling. And it was a lot of fun, as each of us muddled through in broken Scots, coming together for “warm, reekin’ rich” and “gie her a haggis!”. In our flustered state, we forgot to do the “Selkirk Grace”. This sucks as it’s actually pretty important and A was looking forward to delivering it. He reminded me the day after that we’d missed it. It’s been nearly a week and it’s still bugging me. WE ATE AN UNBLESSED BURNS SUPPER! To make matters worse, it was even listed in our menu/program. There is no one to blame. Next year, we shall thrice bless the meal for good measure.
The food was especially delicious this year. I can say this without boasting as I didn’t cook it. C outdid himself. The haggis was lovely, the neeps & tatties perfectly seasoned, the skirlie savoury, and the whisky sauce was perfect. Never mind the refreshing salad of chickweed and shaved apple. And those were just the starters. It was the hearty lamb stew served with loaves of crusty no-knead bread (baked by yours truly) that stole the show. Even though their weel-swall'd kytes belyve were bent like drums from the haggis course, folks asked for seconds of stew. And we were happy to oblige as he made a huge pot of it. What pleasure is an endless supply of stew!
I made cranachan, trying a different recipe this year. I tweaked things a bit, subbing the mascarpone for creme fraiche to lighten things up and I used frozen organic raspberries for the puree. Raspberries are not even a little in season this time of year and I wasn’t keen on buying the required amount of fresh imported-giant-foot-print berries. Instead I bought a smaller amount to use just on top of the individual cups of cranachan. I also skipped the recipe’s suggested oat soaking, and toasted my oats straight up in the oven. It turned out quite nice. The addition of creme fraiche to the whipped cream gave it a bit more body and complemented the whisky. I don’t own fifteen matching dessert cups, so I used 125 ml mason jars instead. Generally, I’m over the mason jar for all occasions thing, but it made good sense here. I was able to make the desserts just before guests arrived and they held up wonderfully. Oh, and they were really pretty. You’ll have to take my word for it.
We closed the meal with an array of Scottish cheeses including a hung sheep’s yogurt cheese I made myself. The week before the party, I combined crushed and powdered juniper berries, salt, chives and black pepper with full fat sheep’s milk yogurt and allowed it to strain through a muslin cloth―tasting and testing it along the way. The result was a soft cheese made with herbs commonly found throughout Scotland. I wanted a sheep’s milk cheese for the board and it worked nicely with the other sharp hard Scottish cheeses. The cheese boards were rounded out with oatcakes and jars of rosemary rowanberry jelly (an old Scottish recipe I’ve adapted and adore on everything). Tea and more scotch/wine/scotch followed.
We had a couple of songs including A’s courageous performance of “My Love is Like Red Red Rose” accompanied by C and a rousing rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” by the rest of us.
As guests left, we pressed Tunnock’s teacakes on them. As almost everyone lives within walking distance, we had no worries as we sent our friends off into the night, teacakes glinting and a wobble in their steps. And so concluded our second annual Burns Night Supper. Will we do it again? Absolutely. Same time, next year? We’ll see.
