So, I thought the Scotty's infatuation with food should be shared with the world. And yes, everyone eats these things in Scotland. Well, a lot of people don't like haggis, but that's the only one...
And just in case you didn't know, Mars Bars are a cross between Hershey bars (?) and Milky Ways and are available deep-fried in most chip shops. Irn Bru is a very orange fizzy drink. Skirlie is a sort of oat sauce that you serve with roast chicken. Haggis you should know. And banoffee pie is like cheesecake, but made with bananas, toffee and cream. We're culinary geniuses, us Scots.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, deep-fried Mars Bars, or Irn Bru. But they sure as hell make a good night in.
A lot of people were terrified of Dr. Leonard McCoy when he was in a bad mood. Montgomery Scott wasn't one of them. Scotty liked to think of his immunity as one of his interesting quirks. McCoy just thought that Scotty's "home-made whisky" was worth the intrusion into his (rather large) bubble of personal space. Whatever the cause, Scotty's "Special Powers" were what enabled him to enter sickbay armed with a large plate of disintegrating brown haggis.
"I did it! I actually did it! My beauty's finally learnt how to get it right!"
Scotty's yells earned an amused look from Chapel, and a royally pissed-off look from the CMO.
"What, pray tell, did the ship get right..." McCoy's voice faltered. "Is that... haggis?"
"Aye, sir, and the best you'll find on anyway of the fleet's ships," the engineer replied, "Because my darling's GOT IT RIGHT!"
"Scotty, get it out now. Get it out of my sickbay before I hypospray you into next week."
"Don't think I will, actually. Got any comfy chairs?" Scotty settled onto a bed with relative ease and began to eat.
Scotty learnt the hard way that McCoy really didn't like haggis. It took him weeks to move his neck without wincing.
"Ha! Hahahahahah!"
The bridge went silent at the arrival of Starfleet's esteemed engineer. Chekov's paper plane zoomed absently past Sulu's right ear.
"My mum's a complete GENIUS. I knew she'd find it. I mean, it's only a couple of minutes from where we live, but getting it beamed out- now, that was difficult..."
"Scotty, slow down." Jim was amused, but even Uhura couldn't work out what he was shouting.
Producing a paper package from behind his back, Scotty did a quick head-count. Good, no-one missing.
"My lairds, ladies and gentlemen, I give you... THE DEEP-FRIED MARS BAR!"
Again, silence.
Well, until Spock failed to see the logic.
"Mr Scott, what is that? And why is it melting?"
"You've got to eat them quick, see, and it's been a on a long journey, and I was saving it, and I had to wait until Alpha shift, and... Wait, you don't know what this is?"
Several nods.
"Oh. Um. Well, it's deep-fried chocolate and caramel and nougat. That's what you Americans call it, right? Nougat?"
Scotty didn't understand why no-one was keen to try his amazing beyond amazing snack- beamed all the way from Aberdeen- but Keenser seemed to like it.
Scotty was determined. This time it would work. It just had to. It was fizzy, ginger and PHENOMENAL, for crying out loud!
"... Engineer, why is a soft beverage named after a crude Earth element?"
Scotty sat alone in the mess, pondering his colleagues' food-racism. No-one, where he came from, didn't like Irn Bru. Everyone had heard of a deep-fried Mars Bar. Everyone- albeit rather grudgingly- ate haggis on Rabbie Burns' night. And he certainly hadn't deserved McCoy's well-aimed punch when he had poured skirlie all over the doctor's chicken and dumplings- it was what everyone ate where he came from.
"Scotty?" A chair scraped against the floor opposite him.
He looked up, and blushed as red as his shirt when he saw Gaila gazing determinedly back at him.
"Are you alright? I mean, I know your face isn't, but Leonard didn't mean it..."
"M'fine."
He stabbed his plate with his stupid plastic cutlery. Bloody Jim. It hadn't been the same since they replaced all the utensils with "safe" alternatives when that virus guy got himself stabbed.
"Well, would you like to share some of that with me?" the Orion asked, gesturing to Scotty's plate.
"No." He knew he was being childish. "Bet you don't even know what it is."
"Montgomery Scott, don't patronise me. Now give me some of that banoffee pie, or, so help me, I'll tell McCoy you don't know where Georgia is on a map."
He could have kissed her. So he did.