People will surprise you. Every time. In this case, with their grace, generosity, and sincere desire to help.
This year we jumped from wholesalers of haggis, pasties, and links into the vendor business. Slinging haggis—out of a tent. In our case, three tents, but you get the essence of and dramatic shift in the skillset of the move. My agreement to try it came less than ten days prior to our first event. That agreement was born out of necessity more than desire. We lost two vendors—and friends—unexpectedly. Both relatively young men passed away in the eighteen months prior to June 2024. Another sold her business, and those who purchased it were not interested in serving haggis. Not being able to find three, or even one, new vendor to serve our haggis at Scottish and Celtic events in 2024, Vince and I knew we had to do something to get our food out there if we wanted to keep what we’ve established as our business.
I do not want to simply tread water. I want MacSki’s to grow and thrive while sharing the best in traditional Scottish food with people who are willing to give it a shot.
So that’s the background for how and why I found myself in the pouring rain cooking haggis and salmon out of a tent for our first foray into vending at the Milwaukee Highland Games. Given the weather and our inexperience, we did well with sales.
Ren in the Glen was our second event.
This event is located a little over five hours from us. It required a Ren Faire tent, so Vince designed and sewed one out of painter’s drop cloths. The Faire also required costuming, which we purchased for ourselves and our daughter-in-law, Hannah, who took orders and ran the point of sale and cashbox. The distance also required us not to screw up—not to miss something vital in the packing process—not to miscalculate too much or too little of the food and condiments we would need for this two-day event.
All those things we needed to get right—we didn’t.
Steam trays to store haggis in after cooking in the grills—forgotten (thanks Dean from Ram & Pony for coming to our rescue).
Enough buns and quarter-pound hot dogs for Scottie-dogs—nope. We misjudged that and had to find a Costco Business early Sunday morning to purchase more.
Condiments. Misjudged that by a mile.
We learned it’s all about the condiments. We ran out of ketchup—at outside events, ketchup isn’t a condiment; it’s a food group. For anyone out there thinking about vending any outdoor event, buy good quality ketchup. By. The. Gallon. No kidding. Mustard is important too. And unbelievably, someone stole our giant shaker of pepper the second day. Weird, right? Why pepper? Thank goodness I purchased garlic pepper and an obscure bourbon BBQ pepper that filled in the gap. Also, there were small pepper packets in our wrapped plastic ware, so we weren’t entirely out.
There were other missteps as well. Mostly our fault. Some were just random trickster happenstances.
Vince lost his driver’s license. He found that out at the trailer rental facility Friday morning—set up day for the festival. This necessitated a trip to the DMV to get a replacement license before we could rent the trailer. This put us hours behind.
Finally, we arrived at the open field, or glen, where Ren in the Glen is staged. It’s a beautiful spot in a remote location. Even though we arrived late, we were greeted with kindness and warmth.
It took close to four hours in the morning to load the trailer. Arriving after 7:30 pm, Vince and I scrambled to set up three tents, empty the trailer, arrange four fryers, a chest freezer, warming trays, grills, prep tables, serving tables, coolers for drinks, stations for holding serving equipment including utensils, propane tanks and more.
A young man who’d obviously been working the entirety of the day—which started Friday at 9:00 am, was sitting at a picnic table across from our allotted space. He watched us pull up. He watched as I struggled to lift some of the heavier tubs from the truck. When I say, “watched” it was a matter of seconds—like fewer than ten—and he was beside me.
“I’ve got a minute while I wait for the job I’m supposed to be doing. I can help,” he said.
And he did.
Without him—I’m not allowed to add his name at his request—we would not have gotten set up before dark. What a kid he is! Twenty years old, tall, strong, with a vocabulary that would put a pirate’s parrot to shame, he exemplifies all that is GREAT about this community of vendors. Jumping in when one of your own—even a new member of this community—needs help, with a smile and sincere kindness and a nonchalant, gritty, hardscrabble work ethic that is, I think, unique.
Kindness. Compassion. The ability to share knowledge and resources all matter. And this community has it in spades—or rather, Aces.
My young friend helped us in ways big and small all weekend. When I tried to offer him a free meal, he loudly insisted in his colorful and endearingly inexhaustive vocabulary that he would pay.
At the end of the weekend, during the tear-down, when everyone was exhausted, another vendor in his early thirties helped Vince lift the freezer and refrigerator into the trailer. We didn’t ask for help. He simply came over and helped. He was in such a hurry to get back to his group, I didn’t even get his name. Just his smile and a jaunty wave as he jogged off.
And maybe that’s the point.
Good people help one another without thinking of what it costs them in terms of energy, time, and resources. That is how I remember growing up. Neighbors helped neighbors because they could and knew that they should. I enjoyed learning about this community of vendors—this network of people who travel the country and help one another succeed. They’re lively, quick to smile, with a work ethic that is second to none—and folks, I grew up and currently live in farm country. Those of you who know small-family farmers know exactly what I’m talking about.
HERE'S WHAT I LEARNED FROM VENDING AT Ren in The Glen:
1. The Ren Faire vendors here are true artists, whether their art is in the form of leather goods—truly wonderful; wooden handmade drinking vessels—Paul & Emma from our area; costuming—the sewing acumen on display was fabulous; as well as the food—true masters of what they do cooking out of tents and trailers, no easy feat that.
2. The vendor community has a thriving beating heart with a tuned-in communication network sharing information about festivals and events throughout the country. If you’re kind, decent, and hardworking, they will share with you. If you’re an asshole—forget about it!
3. Beauty and fun and a truly VIBRANT event can come together in the middle of a field (also in the middle of small-town farm-dominated WI) in a matter of hours.
4. I LOVED it. I have a renewed appreciation for the best of who we are. Want to see it in action? Go to REN IN THE GLEN next year. Purchase something beautiful and unique. Eat the food—all of it. Enjoy the people and the place and what they and their combined talents can create. Be transported into another time where magic and joy and beauty are tangible.
Thanks for reading. Be well. Until next time, my friends,
Morganne L. MacDonald
Summer 2024
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