Burns Supper, 2013: Toast To The Lassies Revised

The dirge of winter upon us, we were happy to be invited to one of the season's highlights: the Robert Burns Supper.

The haggis (both traditional and veggie) were particularly tasty, and the whiskies included a Talisker, a Balvenie, two Ardbegs and a very special Bunnahabhain.

There was much delight in readings of all sorts, and even a multi-media rap extravaganza. That is not a joke, it was incredible.

Aya gave an energetic and sincere rendition of the Selkirk Grace while wearing a tiny hat that she had decorated.

Keith had to find a way to up the ante on last year's sideburns.

Our starlit, effervescent Host and our robust, erudite Chairman generously invited Keith to repeat his Toast To The Lassies that he wrote for last year's Supper. That original contained some now-outdated material, so he gave it a re-working and even managed to memorize it. Here it is, with the borrowed bits glossed below:

A Toast to the Lassies.

To honour the Lassies from the heart,
I think we must really go back to the start,
While Evolution's advances may sometimes perplex us,
Its best move was our split into two different sexes,

None of us here, of course, can remember,
What life was like before there was gender,
Think of the emptiness, the complete perversity,
Of life in the time before biodiversity,

But we left that tangled bank¹ behind,
And what a pleasure, then, to find,
The act of mating befits the Id²,
Far more than parthenogenesis³ did,

It has been the root of all our thriving,
As we've increased it's been rhythmically driving,
Over aeons, our selections;
Selfish genes⁴ cloaked in affections,

Now here is Mars, and here is Venus,
And vive la difference between us,
This twinkling binary constellation
Illuminates our primal fascination,

Man's life is enriched by these cherished Others,
Friends, sisters, lovers, wives and mothers,
He's charmed by their wild and graceful eccentricity⁵,
And clumsily joins in an eager domesticity,

To a marriage a Lassie brings what she will,
Her blend of strength and passion and skill,
She offers her Self, her sincerest treasure,
And a Lad reciprocates with pleasure,

For every man quietly comes to know,
Whether or not he lets it show,
That without Woman there is no Man,
Woman is, therefore I am,

So Eilidh, Shawna, Tracey, Janet,
And Aya (the origin of life upon my planet),
Please take this crude communication,
As pure and deep appreciation,

I've made this project too complex,
While that's a birthright of my sex,
My caveman forebears doubtless would,
Have simply grunted, "woman good",

And now the toast at last is here,
Raise your whisky, wine or beer,
And as we drink don't think me rude,
If I ask that we might all include,

Not just the Lassies in our quorum,
But all their kin who've gone before 'em,
Their living faces freshly bloom,
In every flower in this room.

To the Lassies!

©Keith Ikeda-Barry
2013

1) The Tangled Bank Hypothesis suggests that sex evolved in order to prepare offspring for the complicated world around them.  The “tangled bank” phraseology comes from the last paragraph of Darwin’s Origin of Species, in which he referred to a wide assortment of creatures all competing for light and food on a “tangled bank.”

2) The id is the unorganized part of the personality structure that contains a human's basic, instinctual drives.

3) Parthenogenesis is a form of asexual reproduction in which growth and development of embryos occur without fertilization.

4) The Selfish Gene is a book on evolution by Richard Dawkins, published in 1976. Dawkins coined the term "selfish gene" as a way of expressing the gene-centred view of evolution.

5) Letter from Robert Burns to Miss Margaret Chalmers (Sept. 26, 1787) from The Poetical And Prose Works of Robert Burns: With Life, Notes And Correspondence by A. Cunningham

 

Burns Supper: Adoration of the Haggi

Our wonderful hosts improve on the traditions of the Burns Supper every year.

The Cock-A-Leekie soup was rich and aromatic, with a couple of prunes like sweet, dark treasures.

 The Haggis was piped in and toasted brilliantly. There had been "an incident" during the boiling stage but an understudy had been thoughtfully prepared. It was sent in without a hitch and a star was born. And then eaten.

The Piping In and Brian's Address To A Haggis

A serving of the Great Chieftan, topped with a cranberry and thyme sauce which was as delicious as it sounds and looks.

A hearty winter's feast, including the tasty and wonderfully named "bashed neeps" at the bottom left.

 The Cranachan was particularly good this year with thick whipped cream and tangy raspberries.

There was wine, of course, but some of us actually paired the whole meal with only the golden grains, moving with careful pours from the sherry-steeped highlands down to the dark, smoky peat bogs of Islay, where it's warm and sleepy.

Glenfiddich 12
McClelland's Speyside
Lismore 21 The Legend
Abelour A'bunadh
Talisker 10
Jura Superstition
Finlaggan Old Reserve

 The readings and toasts were both fun and a welcome reminder of the evening's namesake. Greg, the maker of haggi, is seen here in the spotlight performing his paper-craft stage reading of What Will I Do Gin My Hoggie Die? This man sets the bar so high we have to take his word that it's still up there somewhere.

One-night-only sideburns were very much in fashion; a trend we hope to see continue. Apologies to those not photographed. We don't like the camera to intrude, and the low lighting (as it should be) sadly didn't allow for many successful snaps.

With such good friends, great food and readings, it was as wonderful a Burns Supper as anyone could dare to wish.

Burns Supper: Preparing the Haggis

There is a man named Greg who knows how to do things, or at least knows enough to act confidently when setting out for parts unknown.

When last year's wee, brave haggis had been had, the question was floated: "shall we make one next year?"

Greg, who, for all we know, has been making haggis for decades and quietly releasing them into the wild, answered without a moment's hesitation, "yes, we shall." And so the job was his.

And when the winter solstice was once again four weeks behind us, he gathered his dark materials, alerted the authorities, positioned us that we might observe but not intrude, and set out with actions deft and bold.

Diced onions and so on were put on to sweat.

Steel cut oats were gently toasted.

The liver, kidneys and heart were lifted from their boiling broth...

and diced with lamb confit.

All the above were invited in, with a generous dollop of duck fat.

The stomach knotted...

stuffed...

and knotted again.

And there it suddenly was: a thing of beauty!

Greg did all this while regaling us with tales of the mystical East and mixing cocktails of his own invention until we ran out of hyssop. If our memory is correct, and we are quite sure it isn't, he then bundled us into his barouche and bid his manservant take us home.

Next: The Adoration of the Haggi

Burns Supper: Selkirk Grace and Toast to the Lassies

Burns Supper, 2012

Last year we attended our first Burns Supper and it was a grand evening of traditional food, poems, protocol and whisky. We were lucky enough to be invited back this year, and this is the first post about that wonderful evening.

Aya was given the honour of opening the evening by reciting The Selkirk Grace.

We kept it traditional, but with one small, important word change.

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

 Keith was invited to prepare a Toast To The Lassies and addressed the challenge in as manly a fashion as possible.

 

Keith's Toast To The Lassies:

Before any toasting is done, we thank our starlit and effervescent Host, Eilidh, for bringing these much-anticipated Robert Burns Suppers together, taking up the Sisyphean task of communications and bridging the gap between our unfathomable ignorance and what needs to get bloody-well done.

Brian, our Chairman, we thank you, too, and I pledge to honour you with two masculine adjectives to be named later, most likely after my third whisky*. For while it is Eilidh who assigned me this privilege, it is Brian who forwarded me the trust to properly toast the Lassies in his presence, and for that I am truly grateful.

I must also give a nod and a wink to Greg, who last year showed us how this toast should be done. He navigated his way through the challenge with wit, warmth and sincerity, lit only by the light of his i-Pad. It is a fool who would try to follow that act, but a greater fool who would ignore the path carved by his success.

And now a Toast to the Lassies.

To properly toast the Lassies at heart,

I think we must really go back to the start,

Of all successes that evolution suggests,

Splitting into two sexes was surely the best,

None of us here, of course, can remember,

What life was like before there was gender,

Think of the emptiness, the complete perversity,

Of Earth in the days before biodiversity,

We left the tangled bank behind,

And what a pleasure then to find,

That mating benefits the Id,

Far more than parthenogenesis did,

Now, stereotypes about who's in control,

Are neither accurate nor droll,

No jokes from me about who makes the decisions,

Lest the coming Reply roast me through with derision,

“Fair, gentle and loving” may be the cliché,

But we must agree, in the name of fair play,

That Lassies are not always as sweet as they seem,

Just ask the Mexican football team!

Men's lives are enriched by these cherished Others,

Friends, sisters, lovers, wives and mothers,

We Lads are charmed into clumsy domesticity,

By Lassies' wild but graceful eccentricity,

To a marriage a Lassie brings what she will,

Her blend of strength and passion and skill,

She offers her self, her sincerest treasure,

And man reciprocates with pleasure,

For every man quietly comes to know,

Whether or not he lets it show,

Without Woman there is no Man,

We say “Woman is, therefore I am”,

So Eilidh, Shawna, Tracey, Janet,

And Aya, my favourite on this or any planet,

Let this crude communication,

Show only our appreciation,

I've made this project too complex,

Is that the birthright of my sex?

My caveman forebears doubtless would,

Have made the point with “woman good”,

And now the toast is here at last,

We're one step nearer our repast**,

And as you drink, don't think me rude,

If I ask that we might all include,

Not just the Lassies in our quorum,

But all their kin who've gone before 'em,

Their living faces freshly bloom,

In every flower in this room.

To the Lassies!

©Keith Ikeda-Barry
2012




*Brian's masculine adjectives, as pledged:
altachadh-beatha
ionmholta

**Keith mistakenly thought the toast preceded the main course.

Burns' Supper and Whisky Tasting

We were very happy to attend our first Burns' Supper at the home of a wonderful couple, who cleverly paired the evening with a whisky tasting.

Our amazing hosts introduced us to the protocol of the classic event and produced a fantastic feast, including a most delicious haggis. We've heard many a horror story about haggis, but we've had it now at two dinners throughout the world and each was more delicious than the last. This one came from the famous Windsor Packing Co. on Main Street, as do so many good things.

Some guests had been asked to give the traditional Addresses to both the Lassies and the Lads and these were both well prepared and very well delivered. There was also a short biography of Burns, and each guest was invited to read one of Burns' poems. Aya found a source of Burns' works in Japanese and read a translation of Auld Lang Syne.

The guests were some of the most interesting and erudite with whom we've ever had the pleasure of sharing a dinner. We felt very lucky to be included.

Cock-a-Leekie and the Menu

Wee Haggis!

Champit Tatties, Bashed Neeps, Sausage, Salmon and Gravy. Delicious!
(Note the handmade place name. Very impressive.)

Cranachan

(raspberries, whisky, cream and oats toasted with brown sugar)

Sideburns from an old theatre make-up kit.

Hats by Watts Costume Rentals.
Photoshopping by Keith.

There may be more about the whiskies in another post if we can get a list of the ones we tasted. A grand time was being had, and few notes were taken. Or, if taken, were soon lost. We gambled on a new (to us) bottle and were definitely not disappointed. You can read a little about the mysterious Finlaggan here.