A REVIEW
This year’s Burns supper was an evening to be cosy at the Royal Dart Yacht Club for the first big dinner of 2026. If Scottish national hero Robert “Rabbie” Burns could survive the sometimes-wild weather, then so could we, on what would have been the eve of his birthday.
The bar was a blur of tartan artfully on show for the occasion as the RDYC Clan gathered together for an evening of entertainment and food. David Macdonald, dressed to kilt, with a license to thrill, led the call to bagpipes with their uniquely-screechy-musical-charm as strong as the call to the sea that evening, as we skipped upstairs with merry and greedy anticipation. Poetry can be hungry work. Dressed for dinner too, the dining room was tarted up with pretty tartan tablecloths, and tartan ribboned serviettes.
Rear Commodore Sailing, Rosemary Tomison, adorned in a long gown over her tartan dress and like the Headmistress in assembly led the Selkirk Grace:
“Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be Thankit!”
That all understood (sort of!), the evening was underway as we tucked into the opening dish of Cock-a-Leekie soup. To some it might sound like a Scottish jig, but it was worthy of the Ploughman Poet himself with a nod to his love of the countryside. Delightfully tasty and dainty with leeks and chicken aplenty and wholesome barley in a comforting chicken stock, with a sweet soft prune atop and a parsley seasoning circle for greenness and flavour.
To the star of the show. David carried in the VIP haggis adorned on a platter with added brightness of oranges, carrots and kale. The Address to the Haggis Show began, full of drama and excitement and all the more so recited in very convincing Scottish dialect: “The great chieftan o’ the puddin’ race.” Before David brandished a knife and stabbed the beastie reminiscent of The Scottish Play (shhh!), with blood-thirsty gusto. That was one way to work up an appetite.
Peasant food to some. A feast to poets. The haggis main course was the traditional Holy Trinity of peppery Haggis, and smooth operators, Neeps and Tatties – akin to a foodie detective duo. The green of the beans and buttered kale added a lovely vibrancy and the promise of spring. Deceptively simple yet with a rich whisky gravy that deserved its own poem. Beautifully cooked, beautifully presented and a reminder that simple done well and with respect to the poet who penned a poem about this national dish, was joyful; even if I confess, I perhaps did not want to think too intently about the intimate ingredients of the haggis.
To sweeter thoughts and a fruity twist on the traditional Scottish Cranachan. Worthy of the birthday boy, this was a particularly pretty dish. The jaunty physalis on top of the cream was more cleverly timed brightness in the gloom of January. Mouthfuls of whipped cream textured with oatmeal and a delightful drizzle of blackberry coulis. Studded with blackberries and pieces of pear that had been gently stewed to enhance their flavour. Like a perfectly poised poem, pears have their peak and this was theirs. On the side, a piece of homemade buttery shortbread biscuit sealed the loveliness like a well written poem that ends with a final flourish. The nip of fiery whisky on the side was stirring my inner Muse. The room went silent as we relished every delicious mouthful.
Every birthday party should have some fun and games. To the toasts. Rosemary led a wonderful Toast to Burns’ Immortal Memory about “a man who packed an astonishing amount of poetry, politics, romance, and dubious decision-making into just 37 years.” Amusingly she considered how he really, really loved women – and allowed them to answer back and how he might have fared today as a sailor poet at RDYC:
“And yet, we forgive him. Because Burns understood what sailors understand: life is short, weather windows are brief, friendship matters, you can’t beat a sunset at anchor and salty tales improve with repetition at the bar.”
Nigel Banford led the Toast to the Lassies with a few mischievous nudges about Burns’ hot topic – whether borne from experience or observation and references to the “extensive services” of the lassies. There were, of course, reactions from the audience before I led the response on behalf of the lassies. Keeping it short, I assured the audience how I would not wish the laddies to think us lassies talk too much and we know that they like the punchline first whilst we relish the drama of the story.
This year’s Burns night made a post-stormy January evening at the Royal Dart Yacht Club entertaining and enjoyable and will be immortalised in members’ memory like a fine poem.
With grateful thanks to Mark and Julie for cooking us up such a splendid feast and to Accalia and Adele for looking after us during the evening with their poetically kind attentions.
By Jude Baylis
