Guts, Glory - and Haggis

George Cockburn & Son in Dingwall. [Photo/Agencies]

Getting my hands dirty

I was grateful not to be visiting in January, but still, I quickly realized I wasn't quite prepared for the task at hand. After handing me a white coat and fedora, MacGregor asked if I needed anything, a cup of tea perhaps, and then we set to work. The process had begun the night before, with MacGregor boiling 100 kg of lamb lungs and livers, which he now started fishing out of a giant silver vat with a large netted scoop. Soon, he had built up a huge mound of steaming chocolate-brown meat parts on a big trough.

MacGregor waved me over and showed me the drill: Grab a lamb lung or heart, rip it apart with your fingers and pull out the rubbery veins and tubes inside and discard those.

I tried to hide my shock - Lamb lungs? Hearts? Tubey rubbery bits?

With great concentration - and Eye of the Tiger playing on the radio - MacGregor quickly set to work. I followed his lead.

I grabbed the first brown piece I could find. I tried not to wince as I felt its texture: warm, slippery, squidgy. I could not tell lung from heart at that point. Having been boiled to softness, it easily came apart as my fingers tore through, giving way to meat that was slightly rubbery yet also mealy in texture. Locating the veins and tubes was easy - extricating them a little more trying. I felt as though I was trying to pull elastic bands out from a rock. Soon, I realized I had to sink my nails in and get down and dirty - deeply clawing my way into each heart to grab enough of the tubing to give it a firm yank.