'Amazing Race,' In Scotland, whiskey barrels, poetry and haggis

Fair and full is your honest jolly face

Great chieftain of the sausage race!

Above them all you take your place,

Stomach, tripe or intestines:

Well are you worthy of a grace

As long as my arm.

You powers, who make mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill of fare,

Old Scotland wants no watery stuff

That splashes in small wooden dishes;

But if you wish her grateful prayer,

Give her a Haggis!

Doesn’t it make you want to pump your fist into the air and shout, “F— yeah, haggis!” I guess poetry could be considered the food Instagram of the Olden Days. Now I want everyone to write a poem about what they had for dinner last night. I’ll start.

Italian wedding soup

I was out of tomato paste

I used ketchup instead

It didn’t change the taste

Pureed for the kids

Chunky for the grownups

Leftovers in my fridge