Don Day’s father was a Scotsman. Well, actually, not just a Scotsman but, according to Don Day’s mother, a bloody great Scotsman.

What is a bloody great Scotsman? He’s a man who wears a kilt to formal occasions, appreciates the tossing of a caber…and a single malt, cries when he hears a piper play Amazing Grace, knows what a sporran is, has a vast repertoire of colorful expressions such as “You canny beat a canny Scot”, knows every word to The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen, and, with deep appreciation, eats haggis.

Much to the dismay of a bloody great Scotsman, Don Day’s mother never made haggis. Don Day’s father therefore had to drive to the Scottish butcher and bring home store-bought haggis. Don Day used to consume his haggis with great enthusiasm because he liked to please his father and because, sometimes, he liked to taunt his mother.

I was thinking of haggis because Robbie Burns Day is rapidly approaching and that is the one day that it is essential that every Scotsman (and their only begotten sons) eat haggis.

When Don Day’s parents retired, they spent the winters in Jensen Beach, Florida where there was no haggis to be found. Even on Robbie Burns Day. And still Don Day’s mother did not make his father haggis. They should have spent the winters in San Miguel de Allende, for there, Don Day’s father could have enjoyed a haggis that Don Day thinks might just be better than that store-bought one from his childhood.

That haggis is…and I’m risking being swung like a hammer into Loch Ness by placing these two words together…Mexican haggis. Yes, the Mexicans have a dish with distinct similarities to haggis, a dish called montalayo.

Montalayo, like haggis, is cooked inside a sheep’s stomach. Montalayo, like haggis, contains certain parts of a sheep’s anatomy that are steamed inside that sheep’s stomach. The only big difference is that haggis also contains a substantial amount of oatmeal.

Don Day eats his montalayo at the Tuesday Market, a weekly gathering of about 400 independent entrepreneurs in San Miguel de Allende that sell everything from bras in a rainbow of fluorescent colors to parts for sixties vintage blenders to eight track tape players. About 30 of the stalls are like pop-up restaurants with food for sale. In most cases, very good food. When he first arrived in San Miguel, Don Day initially picked which of those 30 stalls he would frequent based on their popularity. The rule: if they’re crowded, walk in. If they’re not, walk on by. The locals always know best.

There are two places to eat montalayo at the Tuesday market. The first is El Texano where montalayo is always available next week but never this. It is always very quiet. The second is El Conejito where montalayo is available every week. It is busier than a one-arm paper hanger with an itch.

El Conejito sells a lot of Don Day’s favorite Mexican dishes. Things like barbacoa, menudo and consome. But it is the montalayo that Don Day comes especially for.

I don’t know much about montalayo. I don’t know how it got to central Mexico. But I do know there have been more than a few Scotsmen who have strayed. Particularly when the wiles of a bonnie wee lassie…or senorita…have been involved. So perhaps montalayo is like marmalade and was invented by a Scot.

When I first tried montalayo, I’d only really heard about it once in a book about Mexican street food. I liked the fact that it said it probably originated in Guanajuato, San Miguel de Allende’s home state or Queretaro, the one right next door because that makes it a local dish and Don Day likes to eat local. What I have noticed is that montalayo is usually served at places that sell barbacoa and it appears to be a way of using up some of the parts of the sheep that don’t make it into that dish.

I asked Alfredo, the chef at El Conejito where his recipe comes from. His answer, “I don’t really know, it was always part of the family.” Alfredo’s montalayo includes finely chopped lamb kidneys, heart and tripe (but not liver) in a red sauce that suggests some onions, garlic, cumin, mild chilis and, probably, a couple of the sweet spices. Don Day eats montalayo at El Conejito on two-ply tacos with just a tiny bit of raw onion and cilantro. At least two napkins are required to mop up those great juices after, of course, you’ve licked your fingers.

Now I should tell you that Don Day will eat everything. Road kill isn’t even out of bounds on any highway that Don Day travels. But I do remember being a little nervous the first time I tried montalayo. For somewhere I’d read that montalayo “wasn’t for the faint of heart”. How wrong they were. Montalayo doesn’t taste strange or strong. I’d say it’s nowhere near as potent as chicken liver or calves liver. To me it just tastes rich and deep and wonderful, better even than Scottish…whoops…better not go there.

Next Saturday, Don Day will be celebrating Robbie Burns Day at Dino Martini’s House of Blues (you’d understand the significance if you ever heard The Argyle & Sutherland Highlanders play I’ve Got My Mojo Working). Kenny Peters, the proprietor of Dino Martini’s has promised Don Day that there will be a haggis. And it will be piped in to the bar.

I wonder if it will be as good as montalayo. And I wonder who I’ll be rooting for. Scotland or Mexico? If you’re watching, bloody great Scotsman, please pull the wool tartan over your eyes.

El Conejito can be found each and every Tuesday in the Mercado Municipale on the Salida a Queretaro in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. You’ll find it not far from the northeast corner of the market.