The other day I was having a late-night conversation with a friend, the kind where you talk about personal anecdotes and go off on tangent after tangent about anything and everything, from money to people to movies and TV to philosophy to poop to politics and healthcare and education and debt and the prison system in Norway and on and on we go. These kind of conversations are best done with someone open-minded, yet opinionated, sometimes with a cigarette in hand. (I am not a smoker but I love the way smokers leave crowded bars and parties and have their own fun little hang out together. Call me a smoker wannabe. I occasionally puff cigars, if that counts.)
So one of the tangents we got on was how we think we’re going to die. This was not as morbid as it sounds. We talked about it the same way someone would talk about the outfit they wanted to pick out for work the next day.
There are several ways I could see myself going (car accident, old age, cancer, etc.), but after running through the options in my head I decided I’m probably going to die from bacon.
I am not a fan of pork–in fact, it is my least favorite meat. It’s too dry, plus someone once told me that it’s the closest flavor to humans and that has always disgusted me. But somehow, bacon is still one of the BEST THINGS OF ALL TIME.
What is it about bacon that makes it so good? It’s the crispiness, the saltiness, the crunch in your mouth, the fat, the flavor, the fact that it’s so bad it’s good. One bite is never enough, I feel like I can keep eating it all day long. (Confession: sometimes I do. Like seriously, sometime it’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.)
This weekend, I am happy (and somewhat guilted) to say I went to a bacon potluck. My friend John concocted this lovely quiche below. I gotta quit eating this stuff before I get a heart attack… but it’s just so good!