Burns Night: I've hunted and eaten the elusive chocolate haggis, so that's my Burns Night done - Gaby Soutar

When I go wild haggis hunting, I usually take a blunderbuss and bandy net.

We head out to catch them on the sides of mountains, where they run in the same direction, since one leg is longer than the other.

However, they probably wouldn’t allow weapons in Tesco, so I’m unarmed while searching for the elusive new release from butcher Simon Howie. It’s possibly the world’s first Chocolate Haggis, which has been launched in time for Burns Night.

I’ve already called in at a number of other potential stockists, to no avail. They’ve told me it’s definitely in this one, but where exactly?

Traditional Scottish haggis, neeps, and tatties served on a rustic wooden table with the rugged landscape of the Scottish Highlands in the background.

We stare glaikit-ly at the chiller, where various types and brands – sliced, or as haggis olives, and in its au naturale rotund form, are available. Nope, no choccy one.

Next stop is the confectionary aisle. It’s full of Easter stuff ALREADY. I pick up a packet of Mini Eggs, then put them down again. Too soon. Then I undergo a quick perusal of the ice-cream freezer section. Ooh, Mini Magnums.

“Why are you even looking at those?” says my other half. “There’s no chance they’re going to stock chocolate haggis here. Let’s go”.

I think about asking a member of staff, but am too embarrassed. Then I spot them, on the bottom shelf at the end of the fridge we started at, beside a normal meaty chieftain of the pudding race and a veggie one.

We both stare at the packet. “I think we’re going to need some cream,” says my husband, suddenly very interested in the whole endeavour.

We purchase our haggis for a fiver, but I forget the receipt, so this will not be reclaimed through expenses. It better be decent.

Once we’re home, we decide to microwave it, which means taking off the plastic wrap and disassembling its traditional shape.

It would retain that if you boiled it, or baked it, so it can be presented with a smug ‘ta-da’ for pudding at a Burns supper, in lieu of cranachan, tablet or Mini Magnums.

However, we want instant – well, two minute – gratification, so go with the amorphous sludge version, which resembles a wild haggis pat. It turns out the taste is nothing like its inspiration, though the ingredients say it includes black pepper and there are a few white choc chips, which resemble the oatmeal in a real haggi.

“Oops, should we have addressed it?” I say, as my beloved takes a second helping, with cream.

Too late. Anyway, it’s tasty, like a deflated chocolate fondant.

I wonder if Simon Howie will be exporting it to the US, since they do guns, but won’t eat lungs. Haggis is still banned over there, because of that offal ingredient, but I’m sure the chocolate version would be welcomed.

Still, despite enjoying this creation, I won’t be likely to dabble in the world of novelty haggis products again.

It’s not that I’m a purist, I’m just not enough of a devotee. When it comes to this foodstuff, I can take it or leave it. It is greeted with the same weak enthusiasm that I reserve for mince and tatties.

I’ve done the crisps and the spiced chocolates, and neither of them float my boat.

Mackie’s of Scotland is the culprit, when it comes to that savoury snack, and they also did a haggis and marmalade ice-cream one year, which I’m sure was marvellous.

It’s slightly different when it comes to cooking. It’s a magical ingredient in that, if you add it to anything, you can then add the words Balmoral or Braveheart to your invention.

Also, I do enjoy haggis pakora, a la Tony Singh, and it’s a great ingredient in a full Scottish breakfast, or a cheese toastie. This year, Edinburgh and Glasgow’s Ting Thai is offering pad haggis, and Wedgwood Restaurant on the capital’s Royal Mile is doing pheasant haggis. I’d be into those.

However, I think the bon-bon form got a bit hackneyed, when every restaurant seemed to be doing them, back in the Noughties. Even Ricky Martin released a song, Shake Your Bon-Bon, to pay homage.

One thing I’ve never tried is the survivalist ones that come in a can. Maybe I’ll have to wait until post-Armageddon and we can all crack them open, down in our cellars.

In our household, we’re very predictable with our haggis consumption. It’s a once a year affair, like Hoovering. We’ll usually get a standard Macsween.

However, if we were in the market for something fancier, the current Best in Class haggis winner of the World Charcuterie Award 2023 is Uptons of Bassett in Southamptonshire. That’s right, in England. Their 1kg beasts look rather visceral, with a traditional intestinal casing, rather than the plasticky mass produced stuff.

On their website, they boast Scottish customers will take the 850-mile round trip for their prize-winning puddings. I don’t know why they don’t just order online, like most people.

We probably won’t be stumping up for one of those. It’ll be the standard, served with neeps and tatties, as well as the essential ingredient of pickled beetroot on the side. Every year, I wonder if replacing it with kimchi would be wrong.

We won’t bother with oatcakes, as we’re not quite sure what to do with them. I’m also not too keen on gravy, which further slackens all those wet squelchy textures.

As you can tell, I’m not really counting down to my token haggis night. However, maybe I’ve already done my bit, even if it was a few days premature.

Hunted, got one, ate it. Fair fa’ your sonsie face. There, I’ve addressed it too. Off the hook for another year.