The Best Sandwich of All Time
Bacon has always been my most favored form of pig meat. I would glory in the crispy greasy bacon served with omelettes and pancakes at Perkins and IHOPs. I even fondly remember Sizzlean, a strange bacon isotope my mom would serve because it was cheaper than the real stuff.
But I had never tried a Bacon Lettuce Tomato; as a child I didn't like vegetables on my sandwiches. I grew out of that eventually and
My first BLT: it was a Tuesday afternoon, on an art history field trip to the Art Institute in Chicago. After hours of riding in a bus and hours of looking at art, I was hungry. My friends and I found a small deli in the basement of a downtown Chicago office building. We took our lunches out onto a garden outside the art institute; and I remember so clearly the light breeze, the trees just beginning to bud, and the oversized orange steel butterfly sculpture we sat beneath. The BLT I ordered was absolutely delicious, full of bacony goodness and complemented by a sweet orange and a diet coke.
Since that one sandwich, the BLT has been my passion. I remember most of the BLTs I have eaten through the years, but some stick out in memory more than others. A BLT wrap from a sandwich and smoothie shop in Iowa City, eaten with two of my favorite people in the world. During the calm of a snowstorm, my roommate and I tromped to the corner deli and discussed life over BLTs on huge marble rye bread.
I save BLTs for special occasions, the time in between makes them taste even more out of this world. I suspect bacon must be one of God's special gifts to the world of food.
by David in T.O.
i find that whenever i walk into a restaurant i can't help but order whatever item has bacon on it. i don't really care what else is on the
my boyfriend and i have been known to eat whole packages of bacon in one sitting, eggs and bagels included. when i'm travelling without him i'll always eat bacon, thinking of him wrapping his crispy arms around me.
The Enormous Box of Bacon Challenge
Drunk, late, bar closed, 24-hour diner across the street... Two men stagger across the rainy lower Manhattan street and plop onto the circular stools facing the grill. Not a comfy booth, not a seat in front of the pastries.No, it had to be in front of the grill.
Marco is the most amazing diner chef alive. His movements with a spatula rival Bruce Lee whacking evil minions with nunchuks. Precise, blazingly fast and effective. No less than 5 customer's meal would be sizzling at one time. However, tonight we were the sole diners.
After midnight, Marco runs the place. In preparation for the next day, certain foodstuffs must be prepared. Some chopped, some sliced, some cooked. We happened upon the bacon cooking time. Right in front of the grill. Drunk. Hungry.
As strip after strip sizzled, only to be flipped magically under Marco's wand, we sat eyes glued. Nostrils agape. Ears tilted forward. Anxious. Marco knew what we wanted. The bacon/egg/cheese rolls were already in the toaster. Only a few more minutes...
As my companion sat transfixed, something bigger, something better caught my eye just to the left of the grill. It was the industrial-sized package of raw bacon waiting its turn to jump into the fire. How much was in there? My god, you could feed 100 people with that. Or... one hundred people needing only 2 strips on their sandwich...
"Marco, how much for the entire box?" I asked menacingly.
His response was somewhere between mild disinterest and roaring laughter. A quick locking of the eyes, a smirk and back to work.
My companion perked up. As the debate ensued, various unscientific data flew across the room backing up advanced hypotheses regarding the consumption of bacon in relation the the Guinness Book of Records and the laws of gravity. Chemistry might have actually squeezed in and well as various farming and swine feeding techniques. Somewhere near maximum capacity levels of the stomach and explosive powers contained in lard, two plates hit the counter and silenced the burgeoning geniuses.
We ate our bacon/egg/cheese sandwiches immediately and were quite satisfied with the triple helping of bacon inside. Walking out quite full, nothing more was mentioned of the enormous box of bacon challenge ever again.
when i was seven years old, i got my first new baseball mitt. it was super-stiff. i couldn't close it. the ball would hit the web of the glove and pop right out. i would take it everywhere and just keep working it and working it trying to get it to close. nothing worked. finally one sunday, i took it to my grandparents' house. we told my grandpa about our dilemma. he thought about it for a second and then went to the freezer and pulled out a can of bacon grease. he told us that we should melt the solidified grease and smear it all over the glove and that only bacon grease could up the leather enough so that it would close.
i don't think we ever did it though, as i remember my mom freaking out and saying that wild dogs would smell the bacon grease, go into a frenzy and attack me while i was playing ball.
nine years later, i stopped eating bacon. i don't think it was my mother-imposed fear of wild dogs that did it but who knows?
I'm a Slave to The Bacon
my sister and i, practicing women of leisure (six months on unemployment), fell into the habit last year of weekly IHOP get-togethers. we'd go right after the morning rush hour and slip into one of the blue vinyl booths toward the back. every week we'd get the same waitress. a sweet older lady who would ask us for our order in a very motherly tone: "what would you girls like for breakfast?"
marilyn would order an omelette with a side of hash browns and sausage. i'd opt for a simple order of pancakes. and then the waitress would ask: "bacon, sausage, or ham?"
it wasn't like an option -- she was asking which one i wanted. each week i'd kinda lower my head a little and say, "oh, no meat." she would give me this look like i was a crazy freak and walk away. vegetarians are few and far between in this pro-NRA part of colorado, trust me. they can't imagine a life without meat.
i would always giggle when we got our bill because in all caps it would say "NO MEAT," as if the cook had never seen that on a ticket before and it really needed to be UPPERCASE for him to notice.
in march of this year i attended south by southwest in austin. i arrived late saturday afternoon missing, unfortunately, the now famous waffle party. but i kept hearing about it. from the moment i arrived at the convention center to pick up my badge it seemed like people were saying, "were you at the brunch this morning? ooooh, the bacon..."
later that night i started to hear choruses of "mmm...bacon" wherever i went. everyone was talking about how thick, perfectly cooked, crispy and texas-sized the bacon was. mmm...bacon, they would taunt me. i hadn't even really given a second thought to bacon in a long, long time. after 12 bacon-free years, i didn't even crave it anymore.
suddenly, though, i was thinking about bacon.
when i got home from sxsw i read an article that pableaux wrote about href="http://www.bayoudog.com/04kitchen/bacon.htm">bacon -- and specifically -- that waffle brunch that had everyone worshipping the little piggies of the great state of texas.
i was growing weak. i was (horrors!) starting to crave bacon. of course, i admitted this to no one. i'd been removing the bacon that comes on my morning egg & cheese croissant from craft services, as usual, and tossing it in the trash can. one day, the bacon was looking particularily crisp and thick and i could no longer help myself.
i ate the bacon. it was salty and tangy and better than i'd remember it to be. mmm...bacon, was all i could think.
i'd gone over the deep end.
now? i'm helpless to the power of the bacon. every time i go to breakfast with friends, i wonder about the quality of the bacon at the restaurant. i scan menus for specially prepared bacon. i make plans to go to restaurants who are known for good bacon.
i'm a slave to the bacon.
i just today confessed to a close friend that i had eaten bacon and her reply was, "jesus, kiehl, what is the world coming to?" that should give you some idea of how unbacon-friendly i was.
ah, but now i can't get enough of the little oinkers.