Tak’ a puckle tatties – Kerr’s Pink’s a guid bet, though ony maincrap’ll dae.
Pare ’em, an’ slice ’em thin-kine.
Drap ’em in a suppie watter, forbyes they micht gan’ broon.
Syne tak’ an ingin or twa, an’ peel an’ dice.
Noo, here’s the tricky bit. Y’see, history’s a wee bit contermashious. Some wad say stovies need a bit o’ beef. Ithers wad say, stovies wiz invented ’cos there wiz NAE beef tae be had.
Noo, me, I sweer stovies shouldna hae beef. For the only reason we eat stovies, is ‘cos we were fair scunnnered o’ tatties in ony ither shape or form.
Bit if ye really wint tae gie yer stovies a wee bit o’ extra flavour, add a couple o’ rashers o’ smokey bacon. I ken it’s nae traditional, bit this is progress!
Okay, here’s fit ye dae.
Heat a pucklie ile in an aul’ pan. It his tae be an aul’ pan, ‘cos the stovies are only stovies if they’re welded tae the bottom. An’ ye widna want tae dae that tae a guid pan, wid ye?
It can be ony kine o’ ile ye like – olive, corn, whale, engine . . .
Syne cut up a bittie smokey bacon – posh fowk use lardons, fitivver they are. Hayve it in i’ pan, an’ fry a bittie. Syne hayve in i’ ingins, an’ fry a bittie mair.
Fan they’re a bittie birsled, hayve in i’ tatties, an’ rummle ’em aroon’ for a whilie.
Noo it’s cheatin’ time.
We nivver hid stock cubes in the true stovie days. Bit a ham cube is movin wi’ the times.
Sae’s a dash o’ L&P.
Saut an’ pepper, a suppie bilin’ watter, an’ simmer for twa or three days.
Weel, ’at’s a bit o’ an exaggeration. Probably twa ’oors’ll dae.
As lang as they’re biled dry an’ welded tae the pan.
The scrapin’s are the best bit.
Serve wi’ oatcakes an’ beetroot, an’ a big gless o’ milk.
Syne a guid dram for efters.
(PS. Ma spellcheckers’s jist died a horrible death. A’ wid gie it the kiss o’ life, bit A’m feart o’ gettin’ electrocuted.)
© Mike Clark 2002
For more recipes, food news and reviews please visit our sister site:
Mike discovered the joys of horticulture when, as a small child, he overheard a neighbour say she'd dropped a sixpence in the tattie patch. He has been digging ever since, with the tenacity of a true Scot, hoping one day to find a fiver. Despite now running his own landscape gardening business, Mike claims to be permanently broke, due in part to his quest for fame resulting in writing gardening columns for free. He likes trees, Jack Russells, and 12 year old Glen Ord, but not necessarily in that order. Gifts of any of these can be sent c/o britishexpat.com, but he would like to point out that the third item is by far the easiest and cheapest to post. One of the highlights of his life was winning a toilet brush in a raffle. He persevered with it for ages, but he's back on the paper now... Mike approaches gardening and writing with exactly the same formula. Throw in plenty of manure, and something good will eventually spring up.