Celebrating Burns' Night

 January can often be a heavy month when memories of festive good cheer fade into frosty chill and getting up of a dark night-morning is a thought. So it’s really nice to have Robert Burns’ birthday to look forward to. His title, Caledonia’s Bard, was apparently first bestowed on him in 1787 at an Edinburgh meeting of the Grand Masonic Lodge. His response was,“ ..to continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition.’ Certainly, in his short 37 years life-span he left behind an extraordinary body of work: love songs, traditional airs, poetry on themes of love and nature, with the odd ironic stab at hypocrisy too. 

 So, we could not let the day pass without a bit of fun and food. We invite friends, Eleni and Vasilis, and neighbours, Ann and Ioannis. With our thistle candle-sticks lighting our table, we begin the meal with me reciting the Selkirk Grace – well its Greek version – or as close as dammit! J  Our first course is spinach pancakes to warm up tums fresh in from the cold.

                         

The main course is the posher Greek equivalent of shepherd’s pie: moussaka. I love it but it takes a wee bit of nerve to serve it to Greek ladies well-versed in the culinary arts. During the meal Anna explains that we are actually celebrating his birthday in 1759, and she tells us that he has been voted as the Greatest Scot (2009 STV). I was most impressed that she had done some research so all further questions were fielded in her direction!

                           

          

 

The real traditional dish  is our dessert,  a ‘clootie dumpling’ – a steamed pudding bursting with dried fruit – in this case :  apricots, prunes, sultanas and cranberries.  We round off the evening with a selection of bought cheeses, all the rest being home-made: oatcakes, pear chutney and pomegranate liqueur.      

                            

Great craic, but time-to-go-home arrives which puts an end to our ‘boozin at the nappy‘!

 Now all day the Saltire has been fluttering on the flagstaff, but as we leave it’s a dark, still night, so Eleni mistakes our blue and white flag for the Greek one. Understandably, she thinks that strange and asks, ‘Why didn’t you raise the English flag?’ (Here in Greece English is often used as synonymous with British - but not in my front yard!!) I see a look of incredulity flash across Z’s face and then a hasty look to see how I’m reacting to that!

Honestly, you invite people to a Scottish celebration and they learn nothing?! :o