I can’t believe nobody said anything. No one at the grocery who saw me buying three pounds of turnips and a couple pounds of leeks (there were a few other shoppers, plus a store employee nearby) said a word. O.K., fine, I guess, but what about when after I couldn’t find the Lady Fingers on my own so I asked the manager and she said, sure we have Lady Fingers, let me go get you a couple packages? She could have, might have, even, glanced into my cart seen the turnips and leeks, and put two and two together and say, “Are YOU shopping for a Burns Supper?!” I mean, I can’t believe, this weekend before the anniversary of his birth on January 25, that the bard’s name and snippets of his poems aren’t on everyone’s lips!
I breathed a sigh of relief arriving at the produce section and seeing the turnips weren’t sold out, snatched up by eager Burns revelers getting ready to cook neeps (turnips) and tatties (potatoes) to serve with the haggis. Also leeks, thank goodness, still plenty for me to pick some up for cock-a-leekie soup. “So what’s your recipe for cock-a-leekie soup,” I was a little surprised someone didn’t ask. Or, “how you gonna cook them neeps?” would have been a thing to chat about while the strains of Afton Water floated down from the store’s sound system. “I see you’re getting Lady Fingers. Do you use sherry or Marsala or brandy in your Scots Trifle? (This year we’re trying Marsala.)
This is the morning of the big day. I’m ready for it, but still a little nervous, all the details of it crowding my mind. I’m excited about our third annual Burns Supper, yes, but also just a tad disappointed, I just don’t get it that the Burns Mood hasn’t grabbed hold of this community. I guess I’ll have to do my part to put the Burns back in Burns Supper.
