My mother sits down to breakfast. She takes one look at the bacon and thumbs her nose. “Processed food,” she declares. “Hand me the bread. The margarine, too.”
Wouldn’t you rather save the irony for dessert? I’m tempted to ask, but it’s too early in the day and she is, after all, down to n pounds. I only wish she weren’t the one responsible for keeping us stocked with processed meat in the first place.
Not that I haven’t tried curing my own pork. The fact I’ve only mentioned it now should give you an idea how successful those efforts had been. These days I amuse myself dressing up already calorific bacon. Is it even possible? You obviously don’t watch enough TV. Praline bacon, it’s called — because “candied” sounds too simple, see, and you have to account for the nuts.
Much as I hate to say it, it’s amazingly good. For my lazy version, I started the bacon in a cold non-stick pan over low heat. As soon as their bottom edges started to brown, I flipped the rashers over and brushed with maple syrup, followed by a sprinkling of brown sugar and chopped toasted nuts (pecans), then covered the pan until the pieces were caramelized all over. To get that extra crisp/crunch, I let them drain/cool over a wire rack.
Talk about processed, this dish is chock-full of ’em. But it sure looks and tastes like no bacon you have ever come across before; you have to try it at least out of curiosity. “Just one,” Ma says. “What’s the harm?” On top of the bread and margarine, what indeed.
This post has no comments.
Post a Comment