Tomorrow is Robert Burns Night, an annual celebration of the Scots poet and, without being too dramatic, an essential Scottish tradition. A supper of Haggis, Neeps and Tatties is prepared in earnest the country over, whisky is poured like it's the end of times, and for an evening the world and all its troubles fade away, replaced by cheer, laughter and fine Scottish music.

Every January, without fail, I get far too excited for this day to come. Cooking is one of my joys, and I love making this meal, not just because I love haggis, but for what it represents - being Scottish. My daughter gets excited for it too, although for the neeps section probably less so. Haggis, oh my. What a thing! Found roaming the Scottish gloaming. A joy, to hunt, to make, to address and to eat. So rich in flavour, history and tradition. I absolutely love it.

Burns Night is not complete without the fourth part of the dish, something many consider the clincher, the difference between a good supper and a great one. Whisky. Could it be any more Scottish!? Since finding whisky and the incredible world of single malts, my Burns Night has grown in enjoyment 10-fold. Whisky makes everything better, but when paired with haggis as well? Ya beauty. And falling on a Saturday this year! Sunday will very much be a day of rest.

This year I’ll not have to ponder over what whisky to pair with my haggis, for that decision is already made: Ardnamurchan whisky. It’s the finest around, and I’ll be popping not just our Single Cask 233 from the Glenbeg Blue celebration of Ardnamurchan’s decade of distilling, but a few others from their range too - the core AD/, from which we’ve created the Glenbeg White and perhaps even The Midge too, as the season of little biting blighters approaches.

It’s one of my most treasured things. I am but a humble patriot and I love the experience of being Scottish. We invented the modern world, don’t you know? Some Scottish traditions are struggling in the modern world though, like Gaelic and the self-sustaining Crofting way of life, but here at Marloe we’re doing our bit to bring focus to those things through our work, the Madainn and Gealach being prime examples. But whatever you think of the Scots, no argument can be made against the inimitable, textural, delicious salty, spicy, peppery magnificence of the haggis!

Whether you’re celebrating the Scots Bard or just fancy trying it for the first time, go get some Haggis, Neeps, Tatties, find some fine single malt whisky to pour plentifully into your glass, raise it to the sky and thank whomever it is you thank, for the joy of whisky, haggis and Scottish poetry. Here is Robert Burns’ Address to a Haggis - have a go, I dare you!

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whissle;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!