My Hearth Is in the Highlands

When gastronomic types sit around discussing the world’s great cuisines, chances are that Scotland doesn’t get mentioned very often. Scotland, after all, is a country whose most famous culinary specialty is the dreaded haggis--which is basically a bunch of chopped-up organ meats mixed with oatmeal and cooked in a sheep’s bladder.

Oh, there are a few other dishes and foodstuffs associated with Scotland--for instance, finnan haddie, Scotch woodcock (a relative of Welsh rabbit), shortbread, oatmeal in several dozen forms and, of course, orange marmalade (said to have been invented by Janet Keiller of Dundee in the early 18th Century, as a way of using up the cargo of bitter oranges her husband, James, had purchased from a storm-bound ship). But these are hardly the stuff of great cuisine.

Surprisingly enough, there turns out to be an ancient tradition of serious cooking and eating in Scotland: For one thing, the country has a long tradition of political and social association with France--the so-called Auld Alliance, based on shared antipathy for England--and French influence has been strong in the country’s kitchens since at least the 17th Century. (It is not for nothing that the Scots call a leg of mutton a gigot or jiggot--and there is even a theory that the word haggis derives from the French hachis , meaning a finely chopped dish.)

The splendor and variety of Scottish banquets in the 18th and 19th centuries was legendary. An Englishman named John Chamberlayne, who visited Scotland in 1708, reported of the Scots that, at least among the upper social classes, “No people eat better, or have greater varieties of flesh, fish, wild and tame fowl.” One great host of the era was philosopher David Hume, who, upon his return from Paris in 1769, announced to friends that he intended to devote the balance of his life to what he bluntly called “my great Talent for Cookery.” He was particularly proud of his sheep’s head broth.

Another noted Scotsman who concerned himself greatly with matters culinary was Sir Walter Scott, author of “Ivanhoe,” “Rob Roy” and other epic romantic novels of the early 19th Century. One of his lesser-known books, “St. Ronan’s Well,” is particularly full of food and drink--being set in and near an inn held by a no-nonsense widow named Meg Dods. It is clear that Dods is no provincial slouch in the kitchen. When the book’s unfortunate hero, Francis Tyrrel, is unable to finish a bottle of Dods’ “excellent claret,” for instance, she promptly empties it into her cooking pot, saying, “the liquor’s no lost--it has been seldom sic (such) claret as that has simmered in a saucepan, let me tell you that . . .”

Elsewhere in the book, Scott describes several banquets with great relish, and he speaks highly of a traditional local dish called “kettle of fish”--which is simply just-caught salmon boiled in water that has been salted to the consistency of brine. “This is accounted the best way of eating salmon by those who desire to taste the fish in a state of extreme freshness,” he notes. “Others prefer it after being kept a day or two, when the curd melts into oil and the fish becomes richer and more luscious. The more judicious gastronomes eat no other sauce than a spoonful of the water in which the salmon is boiled, together with a little pepper and vinegar.”

Meg Dodds had a life beyond the pages of St. Ronan’s Well, as it turns out: In 1826, a friend of Scott’s, Isobel Christian Johnston, published a book called “The Cook and Housewife’s Manual,” written under the byline of, and with the persona of, Mistress Margaret Dods. Though it is full of traditional Scottish recipes, it also includes extensive annotation and a section headed “Annals of the Cleikum Club,” recounting the feasts and follies of a group of local nobs and nabobs. The notes and the annals might well be excerpts from “St. Ronan’s Well”--and indeed it is almost certain, though he never admitted it publicly, that Scott himself wrote these sections for his friend.

“The Cook and Housewife’s Manual” remains, in any case, an invaluable record of 19th-Century Scottish cooking and dining habits. Alas, it is long out of print--as is “St. Ronan’s Well,” both no doubt awaiting a Scott revival. Another excellent work on Scottish cooking, which quotes heavily from (and illuminates several mysteries about) the Dods book, is “The Scots Kitchen: Its Lore and Recipes,” by F. Marian McNeill, first published in 1929 and revised by the author in 1963. This is also out of print, but a Granada paperback edition published in 1983 is comparatively easy to find in the used book stores of London (or, better yet, Glasgow or Edinburgh). Two other recommended volumes, both in print in the U.K., are “A Caledonian Feast,” by Annette Hope (Grafton Books: 1989) and “Broths to Bannocks: Cooking in Scotland 1690 to the Present Day,” by Catherine Brown (John Murray: 1990). (Both books are available or may be ordered at the Cooks Library, Los Angeles, (213) 655-3141.)

And what of Scottish cooking today? French influence aside, one great culinary advantage Scotland has long enjoyed is its wealth of raw materials--not only its world-famous salmon but also wonderful trout, oysters, mussels, scallops, shrimp and langoustines, lobster, monkfish, cod; the great Angus beef, served even in the best restaurants of France; good lamb and mutton, including the particularly flavorful meat of the woolly, black-and-white Jacob’s sheep, which graze broad patches of the countryside; wild game of every sort (a bit of it imported into the United States), most notably wood pigeon, woodcock, the noble grouse and venison galore; wild raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries, black currants and tayberries (a Scottish invention) of extraordinary sweetness; honey of superior quality; an ever-increasing array of fine artisanal cheeses; even edible seaweed--carrageen, dulse, sloke, tangle and the like, all of which the Scots have been eating for centuries. (Scoff if you wish, but the Japanese consider Scottish seaweed a valuable delicacy and are great customers of the country’s leading seaweed farm, Julian Clokie’s Sea Vegetable Co. in Pitkerrie Malmuchy.)

And to make use of these materials, Scotland has a generation of younger chefs, both native-born and imported from England, who are slowly but surely developing a contemporary but tradition-based Scottish cuisine. At the unfortunately named but quite wonderful Ubiquitous Chip in Glasgow, for instance, proprietor Ron Clydesdale and his kitchen staff transform the meat turnovers known as Forfar bridies into an improbably good vegetarian dish cloaked with a rich red wine sauce; they also serve old-style peat-smoked finnan haddie marinated in dill sauce, with quail eggs on the side--an elegant turn on a not particularly subtle basic product. At Peat Inn, in the village of the same name near the famed St. Andrews golf course, Michelin-starred chef David Wilson makes a refined version of traditional Scottish potato-thickened fish soup and serves an extraordinary flan of Arbroath smokie (similar to finnan haddie) with a tart lemon sauce, on a bed of shredded vegetables with pine nuts. Another skilled Scottish chef, Frances Atkins, whose Farleyer House Hotel unfortunately closed recently, liked to wrap lamb loin in bacon bannock pastry with a sage and apple jelly on the side or turn honey, whisky and oatmeal--three quintessential Scottish products--into a remarkable frozen dessert. All this, obviously, is a long way from haggis.

But, just a minute: The fact is that haggis--which, though eaten all year round, is positively indispensable for Burns Night, which falls next Monday, celebrating the birth (in 1756) of the great Scottish poet Robert Burns--is actually pretty good. Although the very mention of its name tends to induce either gales of laughter or shudders of horror (if not both at once) in the non-Scottish--it actually tastes like a cross between meatloaf and pate, and it is not at all forbidding in texture.

Though the particulars vary somewhat from recipe to recipe, haggis basically is a sort of pate--well-seasoned and coarsely ground (or minced) sheep’s pluck (i.e., heart, lungs and liver), beef suet, pinhead oatmeal, and sometimes lean mutton, cooked inside the stomach bag of a sheep. Admittedly, this sounds rather odd. On the other hand, most traditional varieties of sausage are made of finely ground animal parts too--including parts that are sometimes even less appetizing than lungs and heart. And if it’s the sheep’s stomach that bothers you, remember: Traditional sausages are cased in animal’s intestines , and people eat them quite happily. In the case of haggis, you don’t eat the stomach.

As F. Marian McNeill rightly points out in “The Scots Kitchen”: “The haggis is, in fact, simply a super-sausage, or, as Burns describes it, the ‘great chieftain o’ the puddin (sausage) race,’ and like the sausage, it was once common to many lands.” McNeill goes on to cite references to something very much like haggis in “The Clouds” by Aristophanes and in the works of the great Roman gastronome Apicius. “Why everybody except the Scots stopped stuffing the paunch (of an animal) whilst they went on stuffing the intestines,” she continues, “the annals of gastronomy do not reveal. And why so many people . . . regard the haggis as an uncivilized dish and the sausage as a civilized one is another mystery.”

It isn’t practical to attempt to make haggis in Southern California. Trust me: Unless you’re a professional charcutier (or a Scot with good traditional kitchen skills), you wouldn’t know what to do with sheep’s pluck even if you could find it. And not even Gelson’s carries sheep’s stomachs.

A credible haggis is available, though, from Cameron’s British Foods and Imports in Mar Vista, (310) 397-8137. It sells for $5.99 a pound in packages ranging from about a pound-and-a-half to a pound-and-three-quarters in weight. It is precooked and need only be heated. Two things you should know about Cameron’s haggis, though: It is made in Florida; and it comes not in a sheep’s stomach but in plastic bags.

Here is a sampling of non-haggis Scottish recipes, traditional, contemporary and halfway between the two:

VEGETARIAN BRIDIES WITH RED WINE SAUCE (From The Ubiquitous Chip, Glasgow) 1 tablespoon corn or peanut oil 2 small red onions, finely chopped 1 medium carrot, peeled and finely chopped 5 ounces brown lentils, washed thoroughly 2 to 3 sprigs fresh thyme 2 bay leaves 1 cup vegetable stock Salt Freshly ground pepper 12 ounces prepared puff pastry 1 egg, beaten Red Wine Sauce

Heat oil in skillet. Cook onions over low heat until translucent. Add carrots, lentils, thyme, bay leaves and vegetable stock. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Simmer, partially covered, 30 minutes. Set aside to cool. Remove bay leaves and thyme sprigs.

Roll out puff pastry to 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into 4 (6-inch) circles. Lightly sprinkle baking sheet with water, place pastry circles on it, and chill in refrigerator 30 minutes.

Remove pastry from refrigerator and divide lentil mixture equally between 4 circles. Dampen edges of each circle with water and fold each one over to make semi-circular pouch. Crimp edges of each pouch with fork and cut small hole in top of each to vent for steam. Brush tops of bridies with beaten egg. Bake at 400 degrees 10 to 15 minutes or until golden brown.

When bridies are almost done, strain Red Wine Sauce and reheat, then serve alongside. Makes 4 servings.

Red Wine Sauce 1 tablespoon oil 1 onion, finely chopped 4 cloves garlic, crushed 1 sprig fresh thyme 1 cup good-quality red wine

Heat oil in skillet. Saute onion and garlic until translucent. Add thyme and wine. Bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 30 minutes, until reduced by half.

Finnan haddie toasts are a traditional Scottish savory. The greens and edible blossoms specified are all found in the Scottish Highlands, but other greens and blossoms may be substituted. Finnan haddie is smoked haddock, eaten all over Scotland.

SALAD OF HIGHLAND GREENS AND BLOSSOMS WITH FINNAN HADDIE TOASTS 4 ounces finnan haddie 2 tablespoons butter, softened to room temperature 2 tablespoons whipping cream White pepper 4 thick slices good-quality white bread 1 bunch watercress 2 ounces purslane (verdolaga in Mexican markets) 4 ounces baby beet or Swiss chard leaves 4 ounces small sorrel or spinach leaves 4 small borage or lovage leaves, minced, optional 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 2 teaspoons honey vinegar 1 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice Salt Freshly ground black pepper Bread crumbs Grated Parmesan or gruyere cheese 16 nasturtium blossoms 8 small fennel or dill blossoms

In mixing bowl, use fork to mash finnan haddie with butter, cream and white pepper to taste.

Trim crusts from bread and lightly toast. Spread finnan haddie mixture on toast, dividing evenly.

Meanwhile, rinse and very thoroughly dry watercress, purslane, beet and borage leaves. Toss well in large salad bowl. Season with olive oil, honey vinegar, lemon juice, salt and black pepper to taste. Toss well.

Sprinkle small quantity of bread crumbs and grated cheese over top of finnan haddie toasts. Brown lightly under broiler.

Meanwhile, divide salad evenly between 4 plates. Top each salad with 4 nasturtium blossoms and 2 fennel blossoms.

When toasts have browned, cut each one into 4 pieces diagonally and arrange on plates, divided evenly. Makes 4 servings.

Note: Finnan haddie is smoked haddock; any smoked fish may be substituted. Honey vinegar is available at British and other specialty food stores.

This is my adaptation and elaboration of Sir Walter Scott’s formula for “kettle of fish.”

POACHED SALMON WITH WHISKY SAUCE 1 cup fish stock 1/4 cup whipping cream 1/4 cup good-quality blended Scotch whisky Salt White pepper 2 tablespoons butter 1 onion, thinly sliced into rings 3 cups water 2 teaspoons white wine vinegar 1/4 cup sea salt 4 salmon steaks, about 1/2 pound each

Bring stock to boil in saucepan. Add cream and whisky and stir well. Reduce heat slightly, but continue cooking over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until liquid is reduced by about half. Season to taste with salt and white pepper.

While stock is reducing, melt butter in saute pan big enough to hold 4 salmon steaks. Add onion and saute until tender. Add water, vinegar and sea salt. Bring to boil and continue boiling about 3 minutes. Reduce heat to simmer and place salmon steaks in pan, resting on onion. Cook about 5 minutes, uncovered, then remove, pat dry and place each steak on heated plate. Spoon sauce over salmon and serve. Makes 4 servings.

HONEY AND WHISKY PARFAIT WITH BUTTERSCOTCH SAUCE (From Atkins at Farleyer House, Aberfeldy) 10 ounces good-quality blended Scotch whisky 8 ounces clear honey (heather, if possible) 12 medium egg yolks 2 cups whipping cream 3 to 4 ounces pinhead oats Butter Butterscotch Sauce

Combine whisky and honey in small saucepan and bring to boil. Remove from heat.

Immediately mix egg yolks in food processor, pouring in warm whisky-honey mixture in slow, steady stream. Continue processing until slightly thickened, then transfer to bowl and set aside to cool.

Stir cream into cooled egg yolk mixture, then process in ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Spread oats out evenly on baking sheet and toast until golden brown. Set aside to cool.

While oats are cooling, line terrine with buttered wax paper, then sprinkle cooled toasted oats evenly around terrine so oats stick to sides and bottom. Spoon processed parfait mixture into terrine and tamp down lightly. Freeze overnight.

About 15 to 20 minutes before serving, unmold and remove buttered paper. Cut into thick slices and spoon Butterscotch Sauce over slices. Makes 4 servings.

Butterscotch Sauce 3 ounces unsalted butter 2 tablespoons golden syrup 2 tablespoons brown sugar 1/4 cup water 1 tablespoon good-quality blended scotch whisky, or to taste

Place butter, syrup, brown sugar and water in saucepan over low heat, stirring until butter and sugar have melted and sauce is well mixed. Allow to cool, then stir in whisky.

Note: Although many recipes call for uncooked eggs, the U.S. Department of Agriculture has found them to be a potential carrier of food-borne illness and recommends that diners avoid eating raw eggs. Commercial egg substitutes that have been pasteurized may be used in place of raw eggs in certain circumstances. Check egg substitute package for applications.

Pinhead oats and golden syrup are available at British and other specialty food stores.