Haggis on Toast
The much-maligned Scottish standard makes for a surprisingly pleasant sandwich
I first encountered Myers of Keswick on a quest for fruitcake on behalf of a relative, and was pleasantly surprised to find that they had not one but two distinctive and different versions on offer, both imported from the Lake District town in northwest England from which the store takes its name. Their West Village location is a prime New York City source for all kinds of quality packaged foods from throughout the UK, as well as excellent traditional baked goods and meat products which they manufacture themselves.
It's not uncommon to find British expats combing the store for some hard-to-find favorite from home, and this tidy little shop is brimming with treats like meat pies, back bacon, scotch eggs, and other delicacies. If you should find yourself in need of, say, mincemeat or a Cornish Pasty on short notice, Myers has you covered. If I’m in the neighborhood, I’ll often stop in just to browse and see what might be interesting or new - or at least new to me.
On a recent visit, a can on their shelves labeled ‘Scottish Haggis’ caught my eye and I knew I’d have to try it, if only for curiosity’s sake. My previous experiences with the storied offal dish had been mixed, but it was too interesting a product to pass up. A classic example of how people have historically utilized the off-cuts and organ meats of an animal - in this case a sheep - by combining them with seasonings and a healthy dose of oats as a binder, haggis has at best a questionable reputation among the general public.
This packaged version comes from Scottish provider Stahly Quality Foods, whose production of traditional dishes like haggis and black pudding dates back to 1923. It lists sheep heart and liver among the contents, but omits the traditional third ingredient of sheep lung due to ongoing US import restrictions - and frankly that was OK with me. It’s also advertised as ‘skinless’, meaning that it is not prepared in the original manner of boiling in a sheep’s stomach.
Reading the serving recommendations on the can, and not having ‘neeps and tatties’ - the preferred accompaniment of mashed turnips and potatoes - right to hand, I went with the suggestion of serving it on toast with cheese, with pleasant results. Fried up in a pan, it has a taste and texture not dissimilar to familiar breakfast hash, but with a slight dank undertone of organ meats. For cheese, the mildly sheepy Oldwich Shepherd from New Jersey’s Valley Shepherd Creamery made a sympathetic match. The crisp toasted bread and creamy melted cheese nicely balanced out the rich, mildly funky haggis, making for a substantial open-faced sandwich.
While I can’t say that it will be making its way into the regular rotation at my house, it was nice enough and if I were to encounter haggis again on a restaurant menu or similar opportunity, I wouldn’t hesitate to check it out. If you are a fan of the face-based Filipino pork dish sisig or Eastern European kishka, haggis - except perhaps in its most traditional incarnation - is likely well within your comfort zone.