Food

Address To A Haggis

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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 of 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 ye 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 strech an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then 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 sconner,
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’ bluidy 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!

 

– Robert Burns

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4th January – On This Day In History

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Born:

1947 Rick Stein (chef & TV presenter)

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Died:

1965 TS Eliot (poet)

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On This Day:

1896 Utah admitted as the 45th State of the USA

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Have a good Thursday, 4th January

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4th December – On This Day In History

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Born:

1930 Ronnie Corbett (comedian – The Two Ronnies)

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Died:

1976 Benjamin Britten (composer – The Beggar’s Opera)

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On This Day:

1954 The first Burger King is opened (Miami, Florida)

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Have a good Monday, 4th December

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30th July – On This Day In History

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Born:

1818 Emily Bronte (author – Wuthering Heights)

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Died:

1718 William Penn (founder of Pennsylvania) 

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On This Day:

1898 Corn flakes invented (by William Kellogg)

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Have a good Sunday, 30th July

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27th December – On This Day In History

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Born:

1822 Louis Pasteur (inventor – pasteurization) 

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Died:

2012 Norman Schwarzkopf (US General – Desert Storm)

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On This Day:

1934 Persia is declared Iran (by the Shah)

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Have a good Tuesday, 27th December

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Umberto Eco

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“American coffee can be a pale solution served at a temperature of 100
degrees centigrade in plastic thermos cups, usually obligatory in railroad
stations for purposes of genocide, whereas coffee made with an American
percolator, such as you find in private houses or in humble luncheonettes,
served with eggs and bacon, is delicious, fragrant, goes down like pure
spring water, and afterwards causes severe palpitations, because one cup
contains more caffeine than four espressos.”
―     Umberto Eco,     How to Travel with a Salmon and Other Essays

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Small and Early

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  When Dorothy and I took tea, we sat upon the floor;
 No matter how much tea I drank, she always gave me more;
  Our table was the scarlet box in which her tea-set came;
 Our guests, an armless one-eyed doll, a wooden horse …gone lame.
  She poured out nothing, very fast,—the tea-pot tipped on high,
 And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by my dull eye.
 She added rich (pretended) cream—it seemed a wilful waste,
For though she overflowed the cup, it did not change the taste.
She asked, “Take milk?” or “Sugar?” and though I answered,
“No,”
She put them in, and told me that I “must take it so!”
She ’d say “Another cup, Papa?” and I, “No, thank you, Ma’am,”
But then I had to take it—her courtesy was sham.
Still, being neither green, nor black, nor English-breakfast tea,  
It did not give her guests the “nerves”—whatever those may be.  
Though often I upset my cup, she only minded when  
I would mistake the empty cups for those she ’d filled again.  
She tasted my cup gingerly, for fear I ’d burn my tongue;  
Indeed, she really hurt my pride—she made me feel so young.  
I must have drunk some two score cups, and Dorothy sixteen,  
Allowing only needful time to pour them, in between.
We stirred with massive pewter spoons, and sipped in courtly ease,  
With all the ceremony of the stately Japanese.  
At length she put the cups away.
“Goodnight, Papa,” she said;  
And I went to a real tea, and Dorothy to bed.