Scotland - Drouthy Kindred Meet

 June 22, 2024

Sue sips here ale in Edinburgh

When drouthy kindred meet, kindred meet,

keep their Cloisters on Edinburgh's Brougham Street. 

My son's face down to open palm,

One eye to follow on the red pin at pace of calm,

One eye to catch each step and cobble trip,

haste ye all to mid-day's sip.

Wife at one arm, elder sister in his shadow's trace,

Mother in his wake, father follows slipstream haste.

Weave we all through narrow lane fast,

Rounding cornice set upon centuries past,

Satellite GPS beaming from among the stars,

step we across the road - look right for cars.

Son and device tell of middle meal to be had,

We follow in trust of Google Maps and my beamish lad.

Our party of united Sunesons clamors for sustenance from within the courts of Edinburgh Castle. Grant, good lad that he is, consults his phone and like a pied piper, he leads the family out beyond the portcullis, down the Royal Mile and in and out among the thin streets and high stone faces of old Edinburgh in pursuit of our communal mid-day meal.

Inga, Sue, Grant & Kaileen
Our destination; Cloisters Pub
For our draughty bunch and a bit of lunch.

 

We must wait a bit for the kitchen to open at 3 PM; don't mind waiting since there is an open table and a board behind the bar chalked with a large choice of libations. We look over the Cloisters' offerings and make our individual decisions.

Grant, Good lad that he is; buys a round for
His mother & sister, his wife and one for ol' dad as well.

I had opined prior to arrival in Scotland, that I was ready for a fair share of fish & chips, Atlantic salmon, maybe a meat pie, but I thought I'd likely decline a plate of traditional haggis. Haggis being a combination of ox bung, lamb's pluck, suet mixed with coarse oats, seasoned with salt, pepper, coriander and nutmeg and baked in a sheep's stomach. There is a name for this type of meat, offal. Admittedly, even to my rather broad pallet, this dish (when I think about it) sounds kind of awful. Some correspondents wrote and urged me not to pass up the haggis while in country. Still, I don't know.

Challenged by loving wife and my offspring; "Dad's It's THE traditional Scottish national dish. Eaten in celebration on Burn's Night and all things Scots and particularly, Poet Bobby Burns..."

I order the haggis with neeps and tatties. Done. No regrets. However, it was not served inside the entrails of a sheep. I preferred this presentation. 

Mark's haggis with neeps and tatties with a pour of peppercorn sauce.
Notice the confirming looks of my wife and daughter as they see my diner bowl.

Our barkeep suggests several local attractions that might be of interest. We choose Holyrood Park and Arthur's Seat. This is of geological interest to my wife and me; of dubious interest to the rest of the family. 

Never-the-less, Grant, good lad that he is, summons an Uber and we are off to Holyrood Park to clamber among the 350 million year old basalt deposits from an extinct volcano, this basaltic ridge is known as Arthur's Seat.

Sue pauses after a midday meal between the Cloisters Bar and a congregation belonging to The Church of Scotland. She feels at home as many Presbyterian would between a bar and a church.