The Scotsman of Jamaica (Plain)

Always up for trying something new- especially when it involves drinks after a long day of work- I gamely agreed to head over to the first Scottish spot in JP (and in Massachusetts, apparently) for some beers and banter, neither of which is in short supply at The Haven.

Though unremarkable from the street, the interior of this wee joint (oh come in- it’s Scottish- I can get away with saying wee…) has plenty of charm. Antler chandeliers, a faux-fireplace, shiny wood floors, and melamine chairs make the space feel like a cross between a log cabin and a page from a Restoration Hardware catalog, with just a touch of middle-school classroom thrown in. Retro posters and glass jars full of thistle and goldenrod add just the right nostalgic touch without being too campy.

We were served beers by the bartender and owner, Jason, whose accommodating attitude was only enhanced by a genuine Scottish lilt- though I’m pretty sure a sociopath could win me over with an accent like that. The menu was appropriately dominated by Scottish beers from the Williams Bros brewing company, and we obligingly sampled as many of the various brews as possible- a task made all the more daunting by the fact that most of them come in 16 ounce bottles, but we rose to the challenge. There was the Joker, a fresh tasting, slightly bitter IPA; Midnight Sun, a dark, spicy porter with molasses and ginger notes; Fraoch, a lovely heather ale made in the gruit style; and- my favorite- Kelpie, a seaweed ale with a distinctly salty, chocolaty palate. Intrigued? Just imagine those fancy sea-salted chocolates…in beer form. Not convinced? There are plenty of ciders and ales on tap as well…wuss.

First out of the kitchen were homey-looking plates of oatcakes topped with curls of butter. Now, I had imagined oatcakes as crumbly biscuits, the only assets of which are a long shelf life and the ability to withstand extreme circumstances- including any attempt one might make to chew or digest them. On the contrary, these salty-sweet little morsels were more like a cross between an oatmeal cookie and whole wheat bread. Apparently I was thinking of something else…maybe pemmican or hardtack. Thanks in part to it being one of the only grains that would grow in the north of Scotland, oatmeal used to be a staple of the Scottish diet; a fact that led author Samuel Johnson to refer to it as a grain that in England was fed only to horses, but “in Scotland supports the people”- seems there was a bit of England-Scotland animosity at work here. Accompanying the oatcakes were lightly pickled red onion, crunchy slices of fennel, and red grapes.

Never having tried haggis before, and with no international travel in my foreseeable future, I figured this was my chance. For those of you who don’t know, haggis is a very traditional and (in)famous Scottish dish comprised of lamb heart, liver, lungs, etc. mixed with onion and oatmeal (again, not just for horses, Mr. Johnson), and cooked inside the sheep’s intestine. Resourceful? Absolutely. Appetizing? Ummmm… Served alongside the main attraction were ‘tatties and neeps’, which sound uncannily like kibbles and bits to my ears- an allusion made all the more unfortunate by the plateful of unidentifiable ground animal parts staring me down. In fact tatties are simply mashed potatoes, and neeps are usually rutabagas, but the Haven version makes use of the lesser-known kohlrabi, with quite successful results. The veg was not only roasted to crunchy-tender perfection, but was actually seasoned well- for once I didn’t have to shame-facedly request salt and pepper. As for the haggis, it had a unique, not unpleasant flavor- a bit gamey, a bit livery, but rich and well balanced. And we’ll leave it at that.

Next up? Take a hard-boiled egg, wrap it in pork sausage, and deep-fry it. What do you get? Scotch eggs! In all fairness, these suckers started out with a handicap in my book, being that hard-boiled eggs are simply not my thing. A yolk is meant to be runny, if you ask me, and cooking it to the hard stage is on par with cooking a filet to medium-well: sacrilege. That being said, there aren’t many things that wouldn’t taste good wrapped in pork and fried- especially dipped in a side of spicy whole-grain mustard- so I made my peace with it. If just imagining this dish is making your arteries pulse with apprehension, not to worry- it’s served with a few leaves of delicately dressed lettuce, which I’m pretty sure makes it a square meal, especially when you consider that egg whites are practically a diet food. Thick-cut skin-on chips gave us the perfect vehicle to test-drive the various sauces provided to each table- Worcestershire, HP sauce- although the Marmite remained securely lidded….curious.

While there were plenty of other tempting vittles on offer- sassitch and mash, beef and ale pie, fish and chips- an undeniable aspect of this cuisine is its filling nature, so we called it a night. The upside is that there’s ample fare to lure us back for at least two or three more forays into Scottish gastronomy. But if Highland grub is not your thing, not to worry; also on offer is Chicken tikka masala, and- get ready- fried mars bars….if it’s a nice evening, it might not be a bad idea to walk there and back. Or walk there and crawl back. Cheers!