That's the catch that makes haggis-a concoction of minced lamb guts mixed with oatmeal, onion and spices and cooked inside a lamb's belly-a little hard to swallow. But it's also what makes Scotland's official national dish so intriguing. I don't remember from which of my friends I first heard of haggis, as I prepared for a trip to Scotland with my folks, to visit the land of my mother's heritage. What I do remember is that the suggestion of eating haggis was definitely made in jest. Although I have quite a stomach on me - having participated in Canolli-eating contests, and earning a reputation as a sushi badass for my sincere enjoyment of slimy Sea Urchin -no one expected me to actually eat minced lamb guts stuffed inside a pouch that once held digested food.

Yet in between hearing the dish's name tossed casually from the tongues of Highlands-traveling veterans, to watching my parents' faces crinkle in disgust upon the mere mention of it, my curiosity became unstoppable.

Within hours of my departure from Baltimore, Md., to Glasgow International, I began my obsessive quest for information by asking anyone en route to Scotland about haggis-where did it come from? Why would people not only want to eat something that seems so blatantly unappetizing, but actually declare it their national dish? And where could I get some?

It just so happened I was seated on the plane next to a curmudgeonly, middle-aged Russian man, who spent most of the trip reading, barely managing a shred of politeness. He also managed to hog the armrest between us. But eight hours of travel gets lonely without a little neighborly conversation with your flight mate, so I made a couple friendly overtures, which eventually got us talking: He was a Cold-War refugee who left the Soviet Union in the 1980s with no desire to ever return, and made a living as an engineer in Washington, D.C. He was traveling to Scotland on business, as he did for several months out of every year, but this time, he had brought his family along.

That was all fine and good, but what made him memorable for my purposes was that he was the first person I met who'd tried haggis. In the midst of a Scottish banquet with his company, he was startled when the chef brought out the big, Thanksgiving turkey-sized, white, marbleized beast on a platter, and sliced it up in a great, ceremonial display. Grudgingly, he tried it, and found it "so-so." Native Scotsmen and women never ate Haggis, he said; it was a dish for tourists.

History and Beyond

Had it not been for Robert Burns, the land of tartan's most famous poet who wrote his celebratory poem, ‘Address to a Haggis' in 1786, the dish might have faded into oblivion. In fact, Burns' ‘Address,' which he penned, according to Clarissa Dickson Wright's The Little Haggis, on his first visit to Edinburgh, has almost made him synonymous with it. So synonymous, in fact, that Scots everywhere chow down at haggis feasts each Jan. 25, in honor of Burns' birthday - a holiday known as ‘Burns Night.' For more than 200 years, Scots have celebrated Burns Night with haggis and all its trimmings - neeps (turnips), tatties (potatoes) and lots of whisky. Traditionally, Burns Night celebrations include a hail to the ‘Chieftain of the pudding race,' as the ‘Address' is read and guests make elaborate toasts to their country. According to Wright, Burns' poem was originally intended to diss the pretentious attitude that seemed to be taking over, with more genteel members of Scottish society taking lessons in correct English pronunciation.

Mention ‘haggis' to anyone who's heard of it, and you're likely to hear an ode to Burns. In fact, a Google search on "Robert Burns" actually leads one to dozens of recipes for Haggis, all of which read something like,

"Chop course chunks of lamb liver, heart, shoulder and intestine ...mix with oatmeal in a bowl...spoon mixture into sheep's stomach ..."

Click on one of these links, and you'll see photos of blown up, brown sacks surrounded in a fleshy pouches tied at the sides. All of this made me wonder, what's up with using a sheep's belly? Why not use a crock pot to cook it?

Stating what should have been obvious, Wright notes, in her book, that crock pots were not available in medieval times (duh!), and my ancestors - Scottish warriors, hunters and peasants - were forced to be pretty darn efficient. Historians estimate the traditional haggis was first cooked by native hunter Scotsman. Utensils were scarce, so to cook the meat, these thrifty Scots found the perfect pot -- yes, you guessed it - inside the sheep.

But it wasn't until the late 18^th century, when poet Burns penned his famous devotion to the dish, that it achieved celebrity status (it's interesting to note that Burns died young, of disease in 1796 at age 37, but not from eating haggis).

Haggis today in Scotland

Perhaps out of boredom with tradition, Scottish restaurants have started sexing up haggis in recent years. More often haggis appears on menus as an appetizer with a twist than as a sack of lamb. Go to Edinburgh's Oloroso, and for £6.50, you can enjoy a taste of haggis wontons with plum sauce. Or, if you want a bit of haggis with your fried Mars Bar (another Scottish delicacy), try the Haggis and oat fritters at Arisaig Restaurant & Bar in Glasgow. Don't eat meat? You're in luck-vegetarian versions are nearly as common, and were recommended to me by a waitress at one of Edinburgh Castle's cafés.

But other locals, including the historian who stood watch over St. Margaret's Chapel, as well as a bartender working the day shift at the Glasgow Hilton where I was staying, decried the non-meat hybrid. The real deal, he assured me, was ‘quite lovely.'

The Haggis Taste Test

The crux of my drive to consume this beast lay somewhere between fear and thrill-I longed to do something truly forbidden, something my closest of friends couldn't touch, something beyond Sea Urchin and the rawest sashimi. Something that would make me-like my Scottish ancestors-a warrior.

I held the image of a sack of sheep guts inside my head for the first three days of my trip. I knew little, other than what I had seen in Scottish tour books.

On day 3 in Scotland-the day I was determined to have my first taste-I nearly got cold feet. Would the smell be such that I would get turned off and not be able to go through with it? Would I then have to eat the whole thing to prove my worth as a food warrior? Having once been a vegetarian, would I actually be able to go through with this?

Those thoughts bothered me until I accidentally stumbled upon the dish at my hotel's breakfast buffet, amid an assortment of other strange, strange meats and fried starches. There it was on a mini gold plaque-a pile of lentil-looking brown, white-and-black speckled mush in a yellow dish simply labeled "Haggis." I scooped a little onto my nearly naked plate, sat down, and dug a fork into it. Mmmm.......

....... What was all the fuss was about? It tasted like ground-up sausage, slightly sweeter than beef, with just a hint of spice. It even tasted tasty. Quite lovely indeed!

The fact that haggis is good was especially shocking to my friends, many of whom I e-mailed that same morning from an Internet Café in downtown Glasgow to boast of my experience.

But speaking of experiences, had I truly experienced haggis? My friend Nicholas Morehead, a Scottish-American journalist who spent a semester abroad, didn't think so. He insisted that I down it with a dram of whisky in its rightful place, over a dinner plate of neeps and tatties. And so, I pushed onward.  I was determined to eat haggis again, at least at one or two other restaurants. This was a more of a challenge than I had hoped. Given that my parents were disgusted my culinary quest, I had to go somewhere that also served Italian food. The concierge pointed the way to Mitchell's of Glasgow. The pub served all the staples of Scottish fare, and offered both haggis samplers (appetizers) and full meals. For ₤10, I got a thick patty of haggis, topped with neeps and tatties, and served over a pool of gravy. I ate the entire thing. My mom- the same person who used to have to pretend food was airplanes so I would eat it - was alarmed. "Quick!! Wash it down with a little wine," she said, practically shoving her glass of Cabernet Sauvignon onto my lap.

I ignored her and sipped my whisky instead. Within minutes, my belly was stuffed and appetite was satiated. But still, I wondered, where was the local establishment that would serve me the real deal, inside the sheep's stomach pouch? What does the real haggis taste like?

I didn't get my answer on that trip, as there were other insides to peruse, like the innards of Edinburgh and Sterling Castles, as well as art, history and military museums. The annual summer Fringe theater festival was in full swing, with Celtic musicians and local actors making hams out of themselves on Edinburgh's cobblestone streets.

Even in Edinburgh, the home of haggis, it's a lot more difficult than you think to find a restaurant that cooks and serves haggis with the stomach. It exists, but not at every pub on every street corner. The main reason isn't health-related, it's economical. Sheep's stomachs tear more easily than artificial ‘casings,' or boiling bags. So food establishments are taking a gamble if they make haggis like they did in Robert Burns' time, because there isn't any standardization process to ensure a minimal thickness of the stomach. Restaurants have two choices: Either buy haggis wholesale from one of the Scottish companies that manufactures the insider version, or sauté it in a saucepan and serve it as is. Because tourists are so willing to eat stomach-free haggis (and many are undoubtedly relieved at not having to set their eyes on an unsightly body part), many Scottish restaurants choose the latter.

"Nobody on a commercial scale cooks haggis on a sheep's stomach anymore," says Jim Walters, founder of the Lewisville, Texas-based Caledonian Kitchen, which makes tinned haggis for U.S. consumers. "They will package their haggis in a stomach, on occasion."

It wasn't until I was safely back in the states that I learned of Macsweens, the four-generation-old Edinburgh haggis producer, which ships sheep-stomach versions to food establishments all over the world, but not to the United States. During Burns Night season, it's extremely difficult to keep up with the demand.

Even though the stomach casing isn't the main health concern, health officials in the U.K. regard meat issues with a new seriousness, thanks to the Mad Cow Disease outbreaks of 2000 and 2001. Cases of Mad Cow Disease -also known as "bovine spongiform encephalopathy"-led to serious changes in the United Kingdom: health regulations were enforced, and everyone from airlines to grocery stores felt an economic impact. In fact, at the height of Mad Cow fever, when there were dozens of cases of people transmitting the disease, there was talk of banning haggis, which outraged the Scottish National Party and Robert Burns fan clubs. The rumor was that Great Britain's version of the FDA-its Food Standards Agency-had proposed a ban on the use of sheep intestines and stomach casings used in food. After much alarm, FSA issued a counter statement in August 2002 dispelling such reports, claiming only that it was taking ‘precautionary measures' on the risk of BSE in sheep.

That said, Dom Castaldo, a registered nutritionist and assistant editor of the Mt. Morris, Ill.-based trade magazine Meat Processing News, insists that one's chances of getting BSE are slimmer than getting lethal salmonella poisoning from eating chicken. Still, in the United States, scares of Mad Cow Disease forced crackdown on imports. Tourists are no longer allowed to bring it into the country, though Walters says that in 1992, he managed to bring home some Haggis from McKeans).

Even if mad cow incidents of the last few years hadn't happened, U.S. citizens have other obstacles. Since 1971, the USDA has declared one of haggis' core ingredients, sheep lungs, "unfit for human consumption." This branding-followed by a federal register notice - was based on a number of studies conducted by regulatory and non-regulatory food scientists and inspectors, says Steven Cohen, spokesman for the USDA's food safety and inspection service, which inspects meat and poultry operating plants and meat products.

But that hasn't stopped some eager folks from the states from celebrating tradition in the new world.

Haggis comes to America

For love of haggis, Texan Jim Walters quit his day job as an executive with the Boy Scouts of America a few years ago.

But when he first went to Scotland in 1989, with his wife, "it was stiff upper lip and do your duty to your ancestry." And then, he had his first bite. "We said, hell, this is good! What's all the trash talk about?"

Walters, an affable man with a Southern drawl and a solid grasp on his ancestry, also became obsessed at first bite. He sampled haggis at every restaurant he could find, and when he returned to the states, he set up the first-ever haggis tent at Texas' annual Scottish Festival, in Arlington.

That was ten years ago.

Today, Walters proudly calls himself ‘Laird of the Haggis,' for his own haggis production company-Caledonian Kitchen - which produces tinned haggis (and vegetarian haggis) for American consumers. Even though it's not made from lamb parts, Caledonian Kitchen's canned Haggis-which costs $7.99 for 14.5 ounces - has sold like crazy. The company has enjoyed a 637 percent increase in sales since its tinned haggis made its debut in 2003, Walters says. Caledonian Kitchen sells 65 percent of its product online, and the rest at Scottish and Renaissance festivals all over the country. The Kitchen's tinned haggis has also piqued the interest of Scottish and Celtic pubs in major American cities, including Chicago's own Duke of Perth.

I found the prospect of being able to share my haggis fascination with my friends extremely exciting. But still, barely two minutes into our conversation, I found myself asking Walters about the ‘real stuff' - where could I get the haggis I first heard about last summer? Where was the stuff that was supposed to be made in a sheep's stomach? Where were the real-live lamb guts tucked in stomachs? Did he have any? Did anybody? Would I have to fly back to Edinburgh?

"I actually don't care for lamb that much, though I was prepared to use it," he told me. "But I was delighted to find in my research [on Scotland's history], that before sheep were dominant, cattle were."

Walters must know what he's talking about, because his haggis preparation won first place at a taste-off in Scotland seven years ago. A similar "tasting" competition in Boston, put on by Macsweens, once found a ‘chicken' haggis recipe to be deserving of the gold medal. So much for my notions of what constitutes authentic haggis!

Still, the demand for what Americans like me perceive as true haggis must be great: Caledonian Kitchen has big plans to launch a "frozen presentation haggis" and tinned, lamb haggis this year, due to high demand.

So I may yet get my big chance to eat lamb-and-stomach haggis before my next European vacation after all! Won't that be great? I don't even have to leave U.S. soil to share my kooky heritage!

Lately, though, I must confess that another dish has been distracting me: Scottish Whisky Cakes. Caledonian Kitchen just started selling them online. And I can't help but wonder-where did they come from? Who made them first? And what do they really taste like in Scotland?