Sleepy Suffolk

Not so long ago, dearest Amaia, my housie from Spain, had meddled haggis with huggies - not a very tasty combination.
On her long and winding road to British Epitome of Cuisine, after having cleared the haggis hurdle, she decided to subdue swedes. No, not the Nordic native. We’re dealing with veggies here - you know one of your infamous ‘five-a-day’ food portions. As the Merriam & Webster parcimoniously puts it, it’s chiefly British meaning that the use of swede as a member of the Brassicaceae family (as opposed to a tall strapping blond chap) pertains to the domain of British English, a somewhat obscure subset of the English language which mingles pavements with sidewalks and whatnot.
Again, this episode unraveled itself in the comfort of her four-wheeled contraption as we sped, Pierre, Amaia, and I, to work. Pierre, our Frenchman from the North, was enumerating the essentials that tend to keep haggis company while it cooks in the oven. He started off with the usual suspects one can add such as potatoes (which pseudonym is then tatties) and he then mentioned neeps using the commonly accepted vocable south of Hadrian’s wall, id est the swede.
Had Amaia not have to keep staring at the road for fear of veering off to the right side of the road, she would most have interrogated us with her usual blank stare of bewilderedness and incredulity.

Getting back to my housemates, Pierre had therefore decided he should introduce the household to this fine meal of haggis, neeps, and tatties (which nearly seems like a spoonerism, in fact one most suitable for this post).
And, on a bright sunny morning not unlike the Suffolk Fall season, as Amaia was driving us to work down the winding Foxhall Rd, he started describing what went into haggis. Much to Amaia’s surprise, concern, and one might add dismay. It isn’t so much that she was repelled by the gruesome ingredients. Rather, she’d understood Pierre was talking about huggies, the famous nappy brand. Need we say she was surprised to think one could even slightly consider tasting the baby contraption for ‘human refuse collection’. The puzzled look on her face let way to contortions of disgust and disbelief.
Naturally, Pierre soon understood the misinterpretation and relieved Amaia of her uncanny ideas. Incidental vocabulary mix-up or premonitory warning of haggis’s natural appearance? Came the day to try, test, dine, and devour the Northern dish. It was a success. Pierre had also cooked up suede (another word which left Amaia intrigued) and potatoes.
To close off this culinary digression, I went round the Library of Congress’s website and found the following two artefacts which I reckon complement this post quite well.
Enjoy and remember serve your haggis piping hot!

© Duke University

© Cornell University