Dinnae Fash Yerself! Slainte!

Those are the only Scottish phrases I can pull off the top of my head and since they means, "Don't worry!" and "Cheer!" (or perhaps, "Here's to your health"), they're good to know. Especially for tomorrow, January 25, Robbie Burns Day. Considering Nova Scotia is New Scotland, it's an excellent excuse to celebrate the Scottish bard's birthday, whether or not you have a little tartan in your blood and a little kirk in your kick.
Born on January 25, 1759, Robert "Robbie" Burns is considered Scotland's greatest poet and favourite son. Although he died more than 200 years ago, he is still considered The Greatest Scot. The first Burns day wasn't held on his birthday, as it is now, but on the fifth anniversary of his death. The idea caught on across Scotland until it became an annual event eventually celebrated on January 25.
Over the years, Burns' influence spread due to worldwide Scottish immigration. Intrepid Scots brought their love of Robert Burns with them when they settled in Canada, Brazil, Jamaica, New Zealand, Argentina, and elsewhere. There are so many Scottish Canadians, they are considered Canada's third largest ethnic group, and Gaelic is still taught and spoken in Cape Breton.
No celebration of Robbie Burns day is complete with a haggis. Despite what you may have heard, few people actually make the very traditional (and gruesome) haggis; now it is a delicious blend of meat, spices and oatmeal rolled into a sausage. No wonder Burns decided an eight-stanza poem to it. Here's the first verse, translated from Gaelic:
Fair is your honest happy face,
Great chieftain of the pudding race.
Above them all you take your place,
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm.
I think it's safe to say, if you can't find a haggis to eat tomorrow, a pork sausage, some ground lamb or beef in a nice hearty mince or chicken will be an acceptable substitution. As long as you serve a dram of Scotland's finest drink - whiskey - all will be forgiven. Slainte!

Good Food, Good Friends, Good Family

First published in the January 11 issue of The Oxford Journal, by Sara Mattinson

Whether you are a come-from-away or know someone who has gone-far-away, the worst part about living separate lives is giving up the long-time activities you would do together. While the absence of familiar rituals hits particularly hard at obvious times like Christmas, birthdays, and anniversaries, sometimes the simple pleasures you pursued together are the ones you miss the most. Take heart: There are creative ways to defeat the distance. 

My friend Elaine phoned on Saturday.

“Can you and Dwayne come for supper tomorrow night? Freeman and the girls are cooking supper and we need you to judge the dish.”

I anticipated a full house but it was explained to me that none of the girls - Freeman’s grown daughters - would be there. They used to have family cooking contests and guests would get to choose the best meal but now the girls are spread far and wide: Ontario, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. Missing the ritual of the monthly cooking competition, they decided to try it long distance. 

It’s not as silly, or difficult, as it sounds. When I was living at home helping to take care of my father who had Alzheimer disease, my mother and I played Scrabble every night. When I went away to Georgia to house-sit for my sister, I simply called up my mother and we played over the phone. We tweaked the ritual in order to keep doing what we loved to do together (and the phone made it easier for her to cheat).

It’s not easy keeping friends and family members close and involved in one’s life when there is such distance between. A running joke: I call up someone, say my friend in Vancouver, and announce, “We’re having lobster for supper. Can you be here by six?”

Always, the friend replies, “Yes!”

 It’s part of the joke but it’s also our way of saying, “I miss you. Wish we were together.” 

Back to Freeman’s part of the long-distance supper challenge. Did he win?

“Ten out of ten,” my husband declared with his mouth full. 

“But the potatoes aren’t quite done,” Freeman lamented.

That didn’t matter to us. As the grateful judges of this cooking competition, our score reflected our delight in the tasty meal, the scintillating conversation, and the heartfelt attempt to keep families knitted together, doing what they love to do, no matter how many miles are between the main course and dessert.