Burns' Night: Seth and Sapphire (my OC from Friendship Benefits)
Even though she wasn't home, Sapphire never passed up the opportunity to embrace her culture. He was a pivotal poet and lyricist in Scotland. He wrote great poems like To a Moose (Mouse), Tam O'Shanter, A Red, Red Rose, To a Louse, Scots Wha Hae, and Address to a Haggis to name a few. Sapphire competed in poetry competitions reciting his poetry in school and read To a Moose at the school Burns' Supper when she was 9 years old. Today, the 25th of January is a day to celebrate the national poet. The usual tradition is to recite his poetry and eat Haggis, neeps (turnip) and tatties (potatoes). Sapphire decided that she would cook Seth a traditional Scottish meal. She hadn't told him what because if he looked up what haggis is, it doesn't sound appetising at all.
Seth got home from a long, hard workout and went for a shower. He was a little confused because if he had made a meal for Sapphire he'd have a table up with candles, napkins, place mats, coasters, cutlery and make it look super fancy. Sapphire had the table out and told him to wear a shirt. She would set everything up while he was in the shower and getting dressed. She had a Stuart tartan table cloth, newly bought cutlery on the table around the place mats from their wedding with a Stuart tartan napkin and a poem written on a small card in front of the t-light candle. The kitchen lights were on as she had to serve the food. She had made Scotch Broth for starter, which is thin, vegetable soup, haggis for main and Raspberry Cranachan, which is grilled oatmeal with cream, honey, whisky, topped with raspberries. The cranachan had been in the fridge for over an hour. The broth was being heated up and the main was still cooking. She put on a tartan pencil dress with black heels before serving the broth as Seth emerged. He was taken aback. His stunning wife had made a stunning set up. It looked so good. He sat down and thanked her for the food before tasting the broth. He nodded his head.
"That's so good. You're making this again." He insisted as he took a traditional American roll and dipped it in the broth. Rolls are the same in America as Scotland. He ate every last bit and enjoyed the broth. He savoured the taste. He enjoyed it so much. He wanted more, but there was none left for him. The broth would have done their two little tornadoes, it was soft enough for them and would have went nicely with the soft loaf they bought. He couldn't wait until he tasted the haggis.
Sapphire plated up the haggis, turnip and mashed potatoes between them. She set it down in front of him.
"WAIT!" She told him, loudly. "We need to address the haggis." She smiled.
"Are you serious?" Seth asked befuddled.
"Yes." She handed him the little card. He read it and couldn't pronounce anything. "It's tradition for a male to do it, but I'll do it instead." She stood at her place before beginning. "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 worthy o' 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 scunner,
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." She finished and Seth was thankful. He understood the basic English, but no story. They both sat down and tucked in to the meal. Seth tasted the slightly spicy, sausage type thing. There is no way to even describe the taste of haggis other than haggis. Just after he finished the haggis, turnip and potatoes, he became very curious.
"What is haggis?" He asked.
"I'm glad you asked when you're done." He was not ready. "It is sheep's heart, liver and lungs minced and mixed with suet, oatmeal and seasoning, it's encased in a sheep's stomach." He was about to vomit and yet, he liked it. The concept is horrid and yet the actual thing is nice. He was ready for the certainly less brutal cranachan. Sapphire brought out the cranachan for Seth. She was pretty full and decided to leave it for now. She washed the dishes. Seth then came through when he was finished and dried the dishes. Sapphire put the dishes away before she and Seth put the table away and watched Braveheart together. The lights were off, the candles out, the only illumination coming from the TV. They were cuddled up on the couch together and fell asleep together before the movie had reached the moment of FREEDOM!