]Dear Population of Bloglandia,
I love bacon. I do. I like it cooked crisp, and still hot. I prefer thick sliced to thin, but I prefer thin over none at all. I have heard rumors that bacon in Great Britain is vastly superior to American bacon, and if this is true, it would be worth traveling there just to get some. Maybe The Dekalb Farmer’s Market has British bacon. They have everything else.
It’s just that smoky, fatty, streak-o-leaness, that warning all dieticians give you to stay away, far away from it, the porky goodness and the holy cow what’s cooking that smells so good and it brings everyone in the house into the kitchen…does it get any better? NO! It DOESN’T!
If you put a piece of cherry pie (mah favorite!) and a slice of bacon in front of me, I’d go for the bacon even tho the pie has the dubious distinction of containing a fruit.
Lest you think I’m some kind of dietary libertine, I don’t eat the stuff every day. In fact, I allow 2 thick slices of applewood (YUM) smoked (YUM) bacon per week. That’s all. Because if you said NO BACON EVER OR YOU’LL DIE then I’d either cut off your head or never speak to you again. Even my kind and amusing nephrologist, who said NO SALT! has allowed me 2 slices of delicious bacon a week, as long as I don’t salt the grits.
Bacon O Bacon
How I do love thee
Your crisp fatty goodness
Your chewy streaks of lean
Your smoky salty…
I am so not a poet, but you get the idea.