I’ve been marking Burns-themed exam scripts today, so this evening’s supper feels quite timely. This particularly sonsie incarnation comes from Crombies. May I heartily recommend the ‘great chieftan o the puddin race’ to those of you on the other side of the Atlantic who have been denied the pleasures of Scottish offal for the past decade? I’m not entirely sure of the wisdom of photographing one of these fellers uncooked, but light is in short supply, and it still looks tasty to me. When it comes out of the pot, I shall be enjoying it with tatties, neeps, and a nip of corryvreckan. While wearing me neepheid, of course.