We overindulged considerably in Edinburgh and non more so than in Haggis. I had introduced Ches to Haggis in the highlands many e=years ago so as soon as she saw it on a menu in Edinburgh, she was right into it.

We had lunch at The Abotsford Bar with Alison on the Monday. It's an outstandingly preserved Edwardian pub featuring an original island bar carved from Spanish mahogany and a Jacobean ceiling. It reminded me of the "Cheers" bar in Boston. Packed at lunchtime during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, we were fortunate in not entering till 2.30pm and managed a table. Haggis all round please.

The Haggis was a little salty however really enjoyable. Not served in the sheep's stomach, it is served in an oval shape as were the neeps and tatties. Ches is well and truly into ciders and ginger beer's by this stage and I more than often San Miguel. I first experienced San Miguel in Papua New Guinea 45 years ago. Then it was brewed in the Philippines and unheard of in Australia. Now it seems to be on tap at almost every pub in the U.K.

Ches has acquired a taste for "Crabbies" alcoholic ginger beer even if she can't pronounce it in Scots, and that's what she used to washed her Haggis down.

On Tuesday, Ches, Alison, Drew and I had lunch at Howies on Waterloo Place. We were joined by Aline and Iain Templeton. Aline is a Scottish author and I have read all her 16 books. I wrote to her four years ago to thank her for the enjoyment she had given me with her novels and we have kept in occasional touch since then.

Her books sell really well in the U.S. and significant numbers travel to the west coast to visit the country where many of the novels are set. Unfortunately she is almost unknown in ANZ.

Aline and Iain had a holiday in Avignon several months after we were in Bonnieux in 2015 and even more of a coincidence took a cruise on the Danube at the same time as us. They travelled Budapest to Bucharest and we the reverse, and passed each other midway at around 2.00 am. We finally met over a Haggis at Howies.

Tuesday night we had dinner at Asquabae. It's an old spelling for whiskey. They both mean "water of life." And life there was. Drew arranged for us to meet an old work colleague of Keiths'. Gillian and Keith worked at the Scottish Parliament some years ago and now she works as a support and training officer of teachers of special needs children. She suggested Asquabae as they not only serve great Scottish food but the largest list of whiskies in Edinburgh.

I had an entre of Cullen Skink and a main of Haggis (entre size). Cullen Skink originated at the small fishing village of Cullen, not far from where my family lived at Elgin. What a sensational dish. I could have eaten it all night.

You cannot describe it as "basically a smoked haddock, potato, onion and leek soup". I don't expect you to scroll through to the recipe and around 7 pages of arguments between top UK chefs as to their methods of cooking, but I've never heard of such a simple rustic dish that can be so fine tuned. I may spend the rest of my life trying to perfect.

My Haggis was accompanied with a Kilchoman Loch Gorm , a silver medal winner (Islay) at this years international competition. Smokey and peaty, just perfect with Haggis. At $AUD15.00 a nip and I mean less than an eyewash, it explains why the waitress said that it was her current favourite but she has to stop drinking it. My tip was only going to buy her a third of a nip.

Sad to say we left Scotland without my having any Chranachan. It was on the menu at Asquabae however as we decided to share a desert, Ches won out with the Double Vanilla Scottish Custard (a disappointing Crème Brulee")

So, I leave you with Rabbie Burns's Address to a Haggis, a recipe so you can make your own, a very long discussion and recipe for Cullen Skink and a recipe for Raspberry Cranachan.

Rabbie Burns - Address to a Haggis -- (English translation)

Fair full your honest, jolly face
Great chieftain of the pudding race!
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe, or intestines:
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm

The groaning trencher (serving plate) there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your pin would help to mend a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the dews distill
Like amber bead

His knife see rustic labour wipe
And cut you up with ready slice
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like any ditch
And then, Oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich!

Then spoon for spoon, they stretch and strive
Devil take the hindmost, on they drive
Till all their well swollen bellies by and by
Are bent like drums
Then the old Master of the house, most like to burst
'The grace!' hums

Is there that over his French ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with sneering, scornful view
On such a dinner

Poor devil! See him over his trash
As feeble as a withered rush
His thin legs a good whip-lash
His fist a nut
Through bloody flood or field to dash
Oh how unfit

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clap in his ample fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs, and arms, and heads will crop
Like tops of thistle.

You powers, who make mankind your care
And dish them out their bill of fare
Old Scotland want no watery ware
That splashes in small wooden dishes
But is you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a Haggis!

Rabbie Burns - Address to a Haggis

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 hudies 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, Oh what a glorious sight
Warm-reeking, 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 scunner
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash
As fecless as a wither'd rash
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash
His nieve a nit
Tho' 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 whistle;
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 gratfu' prayer
Gie her a Haggis

Basic Haggis
This is a general-purpose, traditional-style haggis. Feel free to adapt the recipe as necessary according to your own taste, or to the availability of ingredients.

INGREDIENTS
600g in total of lamb's liver, hearts and minced lamb (the shoulder is good if you get the choice)
125g beef suet
375g oatmeal
½ a large Spanish onion (for the mild taste!), finely minced
1 heaped tsp fine salt
½ tsp white pepper
150ml lamb stock (made from the boiled tripe - see below)
1 tbsp lemon juice

METHOD
1 Place the liver and hearts in a strong brine solution to cleanse the tripe. This will bring out any clots and debris that may be lurking there. Leave to soak for ½ hour and, when clean, wash off any excess brine and trim out any sinews.
2 Put the mince, liver and hearts into boiling water and boil until cooked through. Remove the tripe but retain the water as your stock. Allow it to cool, then mince using a medium plate in the mincer.
3 Put the oatmeal and the reserved stock into a bowl and mix into a dough-like paste - it might be easier to do this in a food processor using the blade attachment.
4 Add the minced tripe, the onions, and the suet, then finally add the seasonings and the lemon juice and mix thoroughly. Again, this might be best done in the food processor with the blade attachment. Check the seasonings by frying a bit of the mixture in a pan, and adjust if needed.
5 When the mix is seasoned to your liking, tie one end of the casing of your choice, stuff the mix into the casing, then tie up the other end. Remember not to overfill it in case it bursts whilst being cooked.
6 Cook in a pan of water on a gentle simmer for 2½-3 hours, checking the temperature of the water regularly - if it goes over 80°C (176°F), it's likely that the sheep's stomach will burst. If using an 'ox bung', it may take a little more heat, but for safety's sake, keep the temperature at 80°C (176°F) or below.

TRADITIONAL ACCOMPANIMENTS
A true Scot would traditionally have 'neeps and tatties' with their haggis, which is boiled and mashed swede (or yellow turnip) with boiled and mashed potato. I am not going to tell you how to cook and mash swede or potatoes, but I will say that the mashed vegetables need to be cooked separately, and mashed with plenty of milk and butter to make them creamy. They should not be served together, but as separate piles on the plate.

A good Scottish malt whisky, perhaps Talisker (a nice, peaty island malt from the Isle of Skye), should also be served with the haggis - the subtle notes of the whisky enhance the spicy, peppery notes of the haggis. If whisky is not your thing, then a robust, high-quality lager such as Duvel would be an acceptable drink to accompany the wee puddin'.

Take one sheep ............
Haggis is a sausage (Great Chieftan o' the Pudding Race) encased in the sheeps stomach although many butchers will now use synthetic materials. This part is not actually eaten (Well, I don't anyways!) but for for some reason it's the ingredient in the recipe that wrankles the noses.

I'm sure you'll eventually find a butcher or manufacturer who does you favourite recipe and that, my friend, is by far the easiest way to go. Just take it home boil, bake, fry or whatever and you're done.

For the more adventurous read on ............

Haggis ingredients and recipe

Sheeps 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced (ground) with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animals stomach and boiled.

Sheep stomach cleaned, turned inside out and soaked overnight in cold salted water.

Heart and lungs of one lamb

1lb or lamb

2 large onions, finely chopped

8oz oatmeal

salt (about a a tablespoon)

ground black freshly ground pepper (teaspoon)

Stock (the water the meat has been boiled in is best)

Water

The next three are recent optional ingredients:

dried coriander (teaspoon)

cinnamon (teaspoon)

nutmeg (teaspoon)

Method

Boiled all the meat until cooked through (Save the stock)

Mince the meat

Mix it all together with the seasoning and stock

Pack it into the stomach bag and seal

Chuck it into a big pan of cold water, bring to the boil and then simmer for 2 hours

Haggis is traditionally served with bashed neeps and chappit tatties. That's mashed turnip or swede and potatoes to the uninitiated. And it's even more fun with good company and a little alcoholic refreshment ....

Felicity Cloake's Cullen Skink

Cullen skink. Not a promising name for a soup, in all honesty - I think Dickens missed a trick by not borrowing it for one of his villains - but one sniff and you'll be won over. Stuffed full of warming wintery ingredients like smoked fish and starchy potatoes, made rich and comforting with milk or cream, it never fails to cheer, even in the darkest days of January. (Unless, I admit, you're sitting upwind of someone else's helping, in a badly ventilated office, with only a meanly filled, heavily chilled turkey sandwich for company. Then you might feel, with some justification, that cullen skink is as malevolent as it sounds.)

About that name: Cullen is, of course, a fishing town on the Moray Firth, an inlet popular with haddock, while "skink" has a more puzzling history. The New York Times claims it comes from the Middle High German word for a weak beer, which seems to make some of sense for a thin soup, but the Oxford Companion to Food counters that it's a variation of the German "schinke", or ham, denoting a shin specifically: "so the archetypal skink is a soup made from shin of beef".

Cattle perhaps being more valuable than fish in coastal regions, the locals adapted the idea to suit their own ingredients - and I'm very glad they did. Smokier and more assertive than American chowder, heartier than classical French bisque, it's one of the world's finest seafood soups.

The fish

The overwhelming flavour of cullen skin is smoked fish - haddock traditionally, but, as Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Nick Fisher point out in the River Cottage Fish Book, just about any smoked white fish will do - so it's important to make sure that flavour is a good one.

Most recipes simply call for smoked haddock, with some adding "preferably undyed" - the taste is generally exactly the same, though obviously all that yellow colouring adds nothing positive to the nutritional content - but Stirling-born Nick Nairn specifies Arbroath smokies in his Great British Menu recipe.

Smokies are headless, gutted haddock, hot smoked over wood in the traditional fashion, and they're not easy to track down, but the smell when I finally get my mitts on a couple of pairs is enough to convince me they're probably worth the shoe leather. While I love their distinctive wood-smoked flavour and creamy texture, they overpower the soup, giving it an unpalatable acrid character. Save your precious smokies for somewhere they'll be better appreciated.

The soup base

Although cullen skink relies upon a certain amount of milk or cream to give it richness, when and how much to add varies wildly. Mark Hix, for example, gives a recipe in British Regional Food which involves cooking the ingredients in fish stock, and stirring in a couple of tablespoons of cream at the end. Although the stock cube I've used is rather overpoweringly fishy, the result is nice enough but lacks the comforting creamy sweetness I associate with this kind of soup. I also think the haddock, which has been simmered for 15 minutes, has gone a bit rubbery, which is a shame.

Nick Nairn also uses stock as a base, but this time it's homemade using Arbroath smokies (which, at £8 a pair, is no mean investment) along with white wine, leeks, fennel and onion. He adds this to softened onions, leeks and some boiled potatoes plus another couple of fish, simmers for 10 minutes, then blends with milk and cream before serving. A third smokie, flaked, become a garnish. This means the soup has the distinctive, smoky flavour of the fish, while the garnish shows off their delicate texture - but, as previously mentioned, the finished result is a sad waste of good smokies.

Sue Lawrence, meanwhile, makes a quick fish stock by simmering the haddock in water, then removing it and cooking the vegetables in the same water - the milk is added at the end. This is lovely - silky, rather than thin, and creamy without being off-puttingly rich (after all, this is a Scottish fishwives' dish).

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Nick Fisher poach their fish in milk, and, once it's cooked, add this milk, along with the potatoes, to some fish stock and sautéed onions, and simmer the two together. Although the milk has already been heated, somehow it begins to separate slightly, giving the finished soup a distinctly unattractive appearance.

Gary Rhodes gives the stock a miss completely in his New British Classics recipe, instead poaching the fish in milk, then cooking the vegetables in the same milk, and topping off with cream. It's utterly delicious - the fish has flavoured the milk beautifully - but so rich that I can only imagine eating it in tiny, restaurant portions, rather than the big steaming bowls I think cullen skink deserves.

The starch

Potatoes provide the filling bulk in a cullen skink: the New York Times suggests that canny Scottish cooks often use leftover mash, and indeed, many of the recipes online contributed by home cooks echo this practice. As I never leave any mash lonely and unloved in the bottom of the dish, I have to make some especially for the occasion, and then, as the recipe from the Potato Council counsels, whisk them into the finished soup. It does the job of thickening it, but I miss the chunks of potato in the other soups.

Without any mashing at all, however, the soup will be thin, and lack vital warming properties. Hugh and Nick suggest roughly mashing some of the potato against the side of the pan if you'd like to thicken it slightly, while Mark Hix purées a ladleful and then stirs it back into the pan. Neither of these have much effect - I prefer Sue Lawrence's suggestion of roughly mashing the entire contents of the pan before adding the fish, which leaves a few chunks intact and suspended in a heartily textured broth.

Nick Nairn's recipe purées all the spuds, resulting in the same rather boring consistency as the mashed potato version, save for the flakes of smokie. Gary, however, blanches half the potato chunks separately, then adds them to the liquidised soup along with the haddock. It's a bit thick for my taste, but I like the contrast between the smooth soup and the chunks of potato and fish and, as I'm using a quick stock, this should help thin it down slightly. If you don't have a blender, mashing it as Sue does is another perfectly good option.

Mark Hix says that his host on a fishing trip in Aberdeenshire left the skin on his potatoes, which I'm always a fan of with soup: it gives a more intense flavour. Nick Nairn boils his in their skins, presumably for this reason, then peels them, but I think this is a bit pointless - if you're not cooking for Michel Roux Jr himself, then leave them on. Extra nutrients.

Although alliums are essential for adding aromatic depth to a cullen skink, opinion is divided between leeks and onions - Hugh and Nick call for a vast quantity of the latter, commenting that "we find cooking them down to a rich, sweet mass gives the soup a really wonderful depth of flavour". They're right, but onions can beat even pungent smoked fish into submission: this is more like onion soup with a hint of haddock.

Mark Hix uses just leeks in his soup, which I think is a shame, because the sweetness of onions makes a lovely contrast to the savouriness of the fish. Leeks do bring a nice green freshness, however, so a mixture of the two, as recommended by Gary Rhodes, seems to be the best option. Shallots, as used by Nick Nairn, are too delicate in my opinion, and as for garlic, well, it's just plain wrong here.

Sue Lawrence suggests that "Jerusalem artichokes are also wonderful in this soup instead of potatoes", so I substitute them in her recipe. I like the sweet, earthiness they bring to the soup, but they don't thicken it as well as the potato, whose starchy creaminess is a better foil to the strongly flavoured fish.

Gary finishes his skink with a squeeze of lemon juice, which cuts through the dairy richness, but I don't think it adds anything to a lighter version. And I prefer the chives Sue Lawrence suggests to the chopped parsley used by Mark Hix; they're a lovely complement to those leeks and onions.

Felicity's perfect Cullen Skink

Cullen skink is one of Britain's best soups: full-flavoured, hearty, and comfortingly creamy, it's just the thing to warm your cockles after a hard day's work on the Moray Firth - or even at the office.

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Serves 6

500g undyed smoked haddock, skin on
A bay leaf
k*** of butter
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 leek, washed and cut into chunks
2 medium potatoes, unpeeled, cut into chunks
500ml whole milk
Chives, chopped, to serve

1. Put the fish into a pan large enough to hold it comfortably, and cover with about 300ml cold water. Add the bay leaf, and bring gently to the boil. By the time it comes to the boil, the fish should be just cooked - if it's not, then give it another minute or so. Remove from the pan, and set aside to cool. Take the pan off the heat.

2. Melt the butter in another pan on a medium-low heat, and add the onion and the leek. Cover and allow to sweat, without colouring, for about 10 minutes until softened. Season with black pepper.

3. Add the potato and stir to coat with butter. Pour in the haddock cooking liquor and bay leaf, and bring to a simmer. Cook until the potato is tender.

4. Meanwhile, remove the skin, and any bones from the haddock, and break into flakes.

5. Lift out a generous slotted spoonful of potatoes and leeks, and set aside. Discard the bay leaf. Add the milk, and half the haddock to the pan, and either mash roughly or blend until smoothish.

6. Season to taste, and serve with a generous spoonful of the potato, leek and haddock mixture in each bowl, and a sprinkling of chives.

Raspberry Cranachan

This traditional Scottish dessert is quick and easy to put together, and the nutritious combination of cream, fromage frais, oats and fresh fruit makes a superb sweet course for a special occasion meal. The whisky not only adds a taste of Scotland, but gives a fantastic kick to the flavour.

Ingredients

Serves: 4

5 tbsp porridge oats

150 ml (5 fl oz) whipping cream

150 g (5 1/2 oz) fromage frais

2 tbsp clear honey

2 tbsp whisky

400 g (14 oz) raspberries

Preparation method

Prep: 35 min

1.

Preheat the grill to high. Line the rack in the grill pan with foil and spread the oatmeal over the foil. Toast under the grill for about 3 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the oatmeal is golden. Set aside to cool for about 15 minutes.

2.

Put the cream and fromage frais in a bowl and whip together until thick. Stir in the honey and whisky, then fold in 4 tbsp of the toasted oatmeal.

3.

Reserve a few raspberries for the decoration. Layer the remaining raspberries with the cream mixture in 4 glass serving dishes, starting with raspberries and ending with a layer of the cream mixture.

4.

Decorate each dessert with a sprinkling of the remaining 1 tbsp toasted oatmeal and the reserved raspberries. Serve immediately (or keep in the fridge for up to 1 hour before serving).