Dewars and The L Magazine teamed up last Friday night to celebrate the 249th anniversary of Scottish poet Robert Burns’s birth at the Williamsburg bar Iona, and GalleyCat correspondents Erin Vollmer and Amanda ReCupido were on hand to brave the poetry recitations, the haggis sampling, and the ninety minutes of free Dewars White Label. “It’s a tough job,” they email, “but somebody’s gotta do it.”
“Affectionately known by most Scots and foreigners alike as ‘Rabbie’ or simply ‘The Bard,’ Burns (who preferred to be called ‘Robert’) was well known in both life and death for his lyrical poetry and use of traditional Scot language,” the duo reports. “As the national poet of Scotland, it’s no wonder his birthday is celebrated with such fervor. A quick internet search let me know that the day is actually referred to as ‘Burns Night’ and is celebrated with ‘Burns suppers’ throughout the world, and is more widely observed than Scotland’s official national day, St. Andrew’s Day (clearly, the Scots have their priorities straight—poets and whiskey first, patron saints second). Apparently, the format of the suppers has not changed since Burns’ death in 1796, beginning with a general welcome followed with the Selkirk Grace and piping. Erin and I definitely witnessed a welcome, and the slurred Scottish words that followed very well could have been said grace. And lo, there was piping.”
“Next there is the cutting of the haggis, followed by a reading of Burns’ works. Haggis, for those uninitiated (such as myself before Friday), is a traditional Scottish dish involving various parts of a sheep. As the 2001 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique says, ‘Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent… and delicious savoury flavour.’ It is here that the free Dewars helped.
“Overall, the place was packed with merry revelers, poetry lovers, and an overwhelming sense of Scottish pride (we’re sure an English soccer jersey was pulled off the wall at one point). We’re wishing every writer’s birthday could be celebrated with such fervor: Johnnie Walker Red for Jack Kerouac, anyone?”