As stuffing or seasoning, the Scottish delicacy is a beautiful thing
Early morning in a Glasgow hotel and I seem to have won the breakfast lottery. The first meal of the day brings not only pork sausages bursting at the seams, but black pudding and a slice of haggis, too. There is much to like about haggis: the coarse, friable texture and generous seasoning; its happy partnership with mashed root vegetables; and the intelligence of a recipe that makes something from nothing. A haggis is a thing of beauty, too, especially after roasting when the bulging parcel, the girth of an ostrich’s egg, is taken from the oven, singing quietly to itself, glistening from a regular basting with butter.
Taken from the oven the haggis sings quietly to itself, glistening from a regular basting with butter