Rick and I honeymooned in Scotland, and for two weeks we traveled the countryside in a little Peugeot. In between dodging giant tour buses and crazy, local drivers on impossibly narrow, winding roads, we fell in love with the culture, history, the land and the sea. Scotland got under our skin in an unexpected, wondrous way. Maybe every adventurer has a “spirit” place— a corner in the world that spoke to them on a spiritual level. I have yet to visit all the countries I’d like— and I probably never will—but somehow, I just know that my soul will never hum and that my heart will never beat as it did in the Highlands.
I probably could’ve saved part of the lungs from my button buck this season, but it looked spongy and ghastly under the glow of my headlamp, and I chickened out.
This was last year’s haggis. It only looks “dry” because I ran out of natural light and had to photograph it the next day when it was half-eaten and cold. The project was mostly experimental, but I was thrilled by how it turned out. After our dinner guests got over the initial shock– a hefty pile of steaming entrails that came out of the kitchen– they chowed down and actually went back for seconds. Slàinte-mhath!
To learn how to make this Venison Haggis, see the recipe at https://www.bowhunter.com/editorial/venison-haggis-recipe/357416