A girl on the bus this afternoon, quite loudly while the rest of her conversation with friends had been hushed: “Well, obviously she is a lesbian.” And obviously the rest of the bus chose that exact moment to pause its conversations. The now-bright-red girl: “Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course.”
Ah, the joys of putting your foot in it publicly. I sympathize- I am about to talk about something considered shocking by quite a few people. Well, my man anyway, but I am inclined to think he is not alone. What is this shocking thing, you ask? Why, it is love for bacon. Crispy bacon, to be exact.
I’ve tried being a vegetarian a few times, but failed each time. I do not eat that much meat, but cannot stand the idea of never eating certain meaty treats again. One of my strongest ties to the carnivorous world is streaky bacon, cooked for so long that the fat crackles between my teeth when I bite into it. I like it on sandwiches, in salads and pastas and love it on its own. There is one drawback, though. (Well, two if you count the high saturated fat count, but sometimes it is worth it for a mouthful of salty perfection.) The smell of cooking bacon, no matter how delicious when you are anxiously awaiting your first bite, is far less compelling when it lingers in your house two days later. And linger it does.
Fortunately, there is a quick and easy way to cook bacon that does away with the problem. Would you like to know the secret? Go on, you know you do.
Here, I’ll tell you: a microwave oven and some baking parchment. You put the bacon on a sheet of baking parchment (I’ve put mine in a special “crisping pan” in the picture, but you don’t need to- it is handy to keep melted fat from getting everywhere, though), put it in the microwave and blast it for a few minutes at high power. Check for doneness and keep cooking in spurts of one or two minutes until the bacon is done to your liking. It takes about seven minutes in my oven to reach a perfect, crispy golden brown. Quicker than frying it in a pan, and far less chance of charring it to oblivion.
You’re welcome. Just let me know next time you need me to share a foolproof, hot and salty trick with you.