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We'd like to invite you to join us on our Discover Scotland! tour next April. To whet your appetite for the trip, scroll through the blogs below to learn all about haggis, Edinburgh Castle, whisky and more. For the complete itinerary, click here.

What the heck is haggis?

CLICK HERE FOR A COMPLETE TOUR ITINERARY

Haggis is the national dish of Scotland.

The Haggis was immortalized by the poet Robert Burns in his poem Address to a Haggis in the 18th century. The haggis is celebrated in Scotland and throughout the world on Burns Night every January 25th.

Haggis is eaten with Tatties (mashed potatoes) and Neeps (turnip or swede) alongside other Scottish favorites Cock-a-Leekie (vegetable) Soup and Crannachan, a dessert made from raspberry, toasted oatmeal and cream.

It is a wonderful, tasty dish which uses sheep’s offal (the bits nowadays often discarded; lungs, hearts, liver). The cooked minced offal is mixed with suet, oatmeal, seasoning and encased in the sheep’s stomach. Once stitched up, the stuffed stomach is boiled for up to three hours.

Travel with Public Radio 90's Hans Ahlstrom and Evelyn Massaro on our Discover Scotland tour.   Contact Laura at Holiday Travel Vacations to reserve your seat, 906-228-6355 or 800-562-9767.  Book before October 8th and save $250 per person.

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Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 

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 you 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 stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The 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 bloody 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!

For more information on haggis, check out this article on the Visit Scotland website.

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