Left Coast Cowboys

We have a great group of English and Scottish friends with whom we usually celebrate what we call the Trifecta of the High Holy Holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. In fact, we have so much fun on these occasions, we’ve been searching for years for other suitably hallowed events on which to gather. Finally, someone recommended Burns Night, a traditional Scottish festivity celebrating national poet Robert Burns. Our schedules didn’t let us get together until a week after the official date, but everything else was planned according to tradition.

Of course, that meant a haggis. Most of us don’t think of Scotland as exactly the epicenter of grand cuisine and some people would cite the haggis for that reputation — unless they bring up deep fried Mars Bars. Haggis, as you may or may not know, is a pudding of sorts, involving lambs lungs, other offal, oats and all steamed in a sheep’s stomach. Our Scottish friend Jan assured us it was “lovely and spicy”, but since we couldn’t imagine anything Scottish being spicy as we would know it, we didn’t have a clue what to expect. As time ticked closer to our Burns Night, Andy and Rob began to get worried and plotted to bring proper British bangers to the feast. Just in case some of us lost our nerve when faced with a haggis.

You know a Burns Night is going to be special when you are greeted at the door by a handsome Scotsman in a kilt bearing a haggis. Shown here: Scotch Andrew and Wee Andrew.

We needn’t have bothered, as the English would say. The haggis? Absolutely fabulous. The nearest I can describe it was a bit like a proper British black or white pudding (which is a sausage). But the oats in it give it a wonderful texture. The spices? Well, I would say more savory than spicy as in Mexican or Indian spicy. But perfectly wonderful. The traditional sides of “neeps and tatties” just added to the homey, warm flavor of the meal.

Here, two Englishman stare in amazement as a true Scot carves the haggis while his wife reads Robert Burns "Address to a Haggis": "Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!"

Of course, any meal that features aged single malt Scotch at every course has got to be a winner. Then there was the dessert which was a sort of trifle, heavily featuring cream, more Scotch and oats. In fact those oats, with their cholesterol reducing properties, were probably counteracting all the cream, organ meat and alcohol that we were consuming. Hooray for oats!

Haggis (which was wonderful) with the traditional sides: neeps (turnips or rutabagas) and tatties (potatoes). Yum.

And the Scotch. Did I mention the Scotch? Lots of single malt and a special 30 year old Scotch.

But don't worry about our cholesterol. There were oats in EVERYTHING. Even the trifle which included oats and brown sugar caramelized in the broiler. Can we say Yum again?

And Scotch Andrew’s kilt outfit? Now we’ve made it mandatory for all occasions. In fact, Andy and Rob are feeling miffed that England doesn’t really have a national costume. What would they wear? Bowler hats? Skinhead outfits? Renaissance Faire Morris Dancer tights? They’ve settle on the idea of Celtic robes and woad daubed faces. Coming soon: Midsommer Eve Druid Style.

In conclusion, I’m allowing no more jokes about Scottish food. If all they could offer were haggis, neeps and tatties, they’ve secured respect.

And you don't want to disagree. We still don't know what a Scotsman wears under his kilt, but they do carry daggers in those Sporrans.

Read Burns’ “Address to a Haggis” here (with translation because you’ll never understand the Scots). So let’s end with the traditional Selkirk Grace by the esteemed Rabbie Burns:

Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.

For other pictures of our Burns Night, click here.

It’s some sort of Forties thing. When they hit those birthday numbers, men either have to do something incredibly macho or have an affair. Luckily, our friend Andrew (called “Scotch Andrew” to distinguish him from my Andrew, who is “English Andrew”) decided to do the Alcatraz Challenge. (Of course, if you saw his gorgeous wife, Jan, you’d realize why an affair was not an option.) So this Sunday morning, Andrew was on a Red and White Ferry headed out to Alcatraz by 7:30 AM. A bunch of us took the equal challenge to get up just as early, pack up three kids between all of us, and stand out in the foggy morning ready to take his picture. Hey, that’s a challenge in itself!

Scotch Andrew just out of the water and ready to shake hands with his fans.

A rumor was started that Scotch Andrew would do this event dressed only in a sporran and maybe a kilt.  But in the end, he bought a wet suit. He also made this the “Shock and Awe” swim, as he decided NOT to do any preparatory ocean swims beforehand or try out his new wetsuit. He was still looking a bit like a wet deer in the headlights 1.7 miles later when he came up on the beach. Swimming in the UCSF pool doesn’t prepare you for the waves, swells and currents of the Bay, not to mention the constriction of a wet suit. I’m getting this commentary from Susi, mother of the World’s Most Beautiful Baby. She’s done the event SEVERAL times and was only persuaded NOT to do it this time because she had given birth a scant six months ago! But she’s thrown down the sippy cup and challenged Scotch Andrew to do the swim with her next year. The rest of us are going to train hard so that we can do that standing on the sidelines and cheering thing even better.

So THREE CHEERS for Scotch Andrew! He made it, which is an accomplishment in itself. He did it in a decent time. Well okay, the guy with one leg beat him, but he totally smoked the paraplegic. Our only disappointment was that he should have had a tuxedo on under his wet suit. Then he could have peeled it off James Bond style as he emerged on the beach. One of us could have handed him a Martini from a silver tray.

There’s always next year.

Here are some pix from the event:

After the swim, competitors ran the gauntlet up the beach. Here are some of the front runners.

I loved this couple who ran up the beach holding hands.

Then the handicapped swimmers like this guy on the right.

And then Scotch Andrew! He should have worn a kilt.

Later he told us about the swim: "So then this Great White had my leg. I fought him off and kept swimming."

And he put on his medal for the photo op.

"Great job, Dad", says little Maisie.

"I'm going next year", says Little Andrew AKA The Wee Man.

Susi's done this swim SEVERAL times. She didn't this year only because she couldn't figure out how to make the Baby Bjorn carrier into a flotation device.

See all the photos on Flickr here.