It’s lonely out here on the haggis beat. Earlier this week, I reported on the potential lift on America’s 45-year haggis ban, prompting many of you to pen impassioned, spirited defenses of this pudding made from sheep innards. Anyway, after we tweeted this story out, Twitter denizen @glasgrowin, a self-proclaimed "food lover in Glasgow," responded with the following:
Well, as Robert Stack once said on Unsolved Mysteries, “update!” I followed up with @glasgrowin, whose real name is Lou. I was curious to know about her food smuggling story. Here is the transcript of our conversation, edited for clarity.
Lou: So I'm Glaswegian born and bred, but I lived in NY for 11 years. I used to bartend and wait tables in the Ear Inn, Pencil Factory, and PJ Clarke’s for a while. I'm living back home now and training in social media management. So [in my day job in social media] I choose to showcase food, my one true love; and Glasgow, a vibrant, rough-and-ready city which is reminiscent of a New York that is gone forever.
Lou: Hmm, a New York gone forever is the edgy New York I first visited in 1994, the one that was still there in 1998 when I moved there at the age of 25. I remember Williamsburg and Greenpoint when they were dodgy!
Anyway, #haggisgate. So, during the period I was living in the States, I was visiting Scotland and I decided that I was going to bring a few home comforts back to New York with me. We Scots do sweets and potato chips really well, so my suitcase was full of that stuff, ready to share with the rest of the Scottish diaspora in the bar trade in NY. At the last minute, my mum gave me haggis and black pudding (the blood sausage) and I stuck them in my case, not even thinking about it. Can't remember if I knew it was banned?
Then, when I land at JFK International Airport in New York, I start seeing all the signs for what's prohibited and what I have to declare. Obviously haggis wasn't mentioned by name, but I was starting to realize that maybe it wasn't okay to have on my person. And so relieved was I just to have a green card—that’s another story—I thought I'd just front it if challenged.
Now, I’m not sure if you're aware how intimidating Immigration can be. They are terrifying. So I'm over there sweating bullets, being scanned, going through last checks of bags, and so on when the guard hands me my passport back. He says, as an aside, "Enjoy your sausage." I swear I blushed—I realized later that he must have been Irish- or Scots-American.
Lou: Actually, it was after. I think 2004 or 2005. I know this because I didn't have a green card in 2001...shhhhh.
Lou: I left New York in 2009 after 11 fabulous years, after my first daughter was born. I still miss my old haunts, but I'm a single mum of two now and kinda loving being back home. Glasgow is changing, and it's rough as hell at times, but I like that.
Lou: Anyway, later that week, a bunch of us at the bar enjoyed our illicit goods with plenty of neeps [swede/rutabaga], tatties [potatoes], and whisky cream sauce. Plus wine.
International food terrorist outs herself. Try haggis. Stuff it into a chicken for Chicken Balmoral [haggis-stuffed chicken breast wrapped in pancetta], wash it down with whatever tickles your fancy. Live a little. It can be peppery so a robust Rioja or Pinot Noir is essential.
Lou: Oh, I know tons of people who had sausages and stuff confiscated! We were convinced they were all having a great cooked breakfast at our expense!
Lou: Use my first name! I think I'm past the statute for prosecution.
Have a food smuggling story of your own? Let us know in the comments.