Last night the roommates brought home the BEST. TREAT. EVER. They’re called Bakon Stripz, and like the bag says, they do make me go wacko. Stark-raving, foaming at the mouth insane, in fact. They smell exactly like barbecue sauce, which is odd but none the less wonderful. But then the flavor is more or less like maple-sweetened, hickory-smoked bacon. Great texture. Enticing appearance. This treat has definitely won me over. Seriously, I cannot stop thinking about this heavenly creation.
I feel completely inspired by this new taste sensation. It makes me want to try new things. Maybe a nice cobb salad with crumbled Bakon Stripz. Or perhaps a cheese souffle topped with a criss-cross of Bakon Stripz. Or what about just an entire bowl of Bakon Stripz? The possibilities are endless. Literally. I mean, I’ll take them anyway you want to serve them. Did I mention that I love this treat?
I have to go now. I heard one of the roommates in the kitchen. If I don’t get in there now it may be hours before they remember how adorable I am. But you? You go out and buy this treat. And then bring it to my house. The roommates were just talking about how they wanted to have you over for lobster and champagne. I’ll see you at 7:00. WITH THE TREATS!!
Ever wonder how your delicious bacon was made? You may be surprised to learn that at some bacon factories, your bacon takes a trip in the microwave! Shoot, maybe ALL bacon factories. I’m no expert, I just eat the stuff.
Although this video is not overly graphic, don’t watch it if you’re bothered by raw meat or hilarious shaking bacon slabs.
Wow. I’m overwhelmed by my love of the website I’m about to share with you. The Bacon page of the Uncyclopedia is far and away the best time suck I’ve experienced this month. Maybe this year. Possibly this century. Beyond the vast mountain of funformation about bacon, there are about a million links to other equally fascinating subjects, like the Kool-Aid Man, sharks and Scientology. Not to mention that they totally corroborate my story about the Earl of Sandwich and the BLT. Why they forgot to include the Earl of Bacon in the article I cannot imagine.
Ever wondered about the important role that bacon has played in the realms of literature or Russian History? You’ll find your answers here. Are you aware of the atrocities committed on bacon by Benito Mussolini? Inquiring minds will finally know. I’ll cut this post short because its going to take you the next 4 days to tear yourself away from the Uncyclopedia. When you finally do, come on back to the Society, where the bacon never ends…
Let’s say you’re a studly high school senior looking to make a splash at the prom. It’s your last year and you want to go out with a bang. But how? Exploding pants? Spiking the punch? Streaking during the coronation of the Prom Queen? Come on, kid. Be original! Be remembered! Be AROMATIC!
Yes, the fine folks at Archie McPhee bring you the Bacon Print Tuxedo. What an amazing prom photo it makes! And just to take the experience one step farther, it even smells like bacon! This product just screams for exclamation points! And at just a hundred bucks, you can still afford dinner at your favorite schmaltzy restaurant before the party. Although with this scented suit on, you might want to stick to the local BBQ joint.
In case you’re the one bacon enthusiast on the planet not familiar with Archie McPhee, this company is the most prolific peddler of bacon products I’ve ever seen. I visited the mother-store in Seattle last year, and it was difficult to walk out without ten kinds of bacon-scented, bacon-printed, bacon-flavored doodads for the folks back home. You’ll be hearing more about their fine wares right here at the Society. In the meantime, get to ordering! Prom season is just around the corner. Followed immediately by wedding season. Consider it a two-fer…you can thank me later.
In case you haven’t already met, I just have to introduce you to the Annals of Bacon Research. I’m super impressed with this team, first because they paired the word annals, which my husband cannot say or look at without laughing, with bacon, which makes my husband say repeatedly, “bacon annals. bacon annals.” Second, because they have taken it upon themselves to find new and improved ways to incorporate bacon into everyone’s daily life.
This first thing I’m going to try from this site is the bacondaise – hollandaise made with bacon grease. Genius. And I’m totally going to pour it over bacon cheese grits with a poached egg on top. Like a southern-style benedict. The next thing I’m going to try is actually saving my bacon grease. It may surprise you to learn that a bacon-lover like myself doesn’t already do so, but having grown up with a can of bacon grease on the stove, there’s always been a strange stigma surrounding this concept, like it was unique to old motherly types. After much talk therapy, I’m finally coming to believe that many fine gourmands treasure bacon grease like French truffles. (I’m going to forego the can for a cute jar with an air-seal snap top in order to justify it to my husband.)
I love recipe sites and trying new things. The fact that the Bacon Research Team has devoted their scientific inquiry and resulting resources to all things bacon just makes my day. Thanks, guys, and keep up the good work!
I must admit this product has done nothing but confuse me. It smells like bacon. It tastes baconesque. My roommates stuffed brownie treats inside it (really people? bacon and brownies?) but seemed rather aggravated when I tried to eat. Is it a treat? Why does it taste like food if you don’t want me to eat it? Is it some sort of punishment?
I’m constantly befuddled by what I am and am not allowed to do. After lots of sour spray and cayenne pepper, I now take it that chewing on the deck in the backyard is a no-no. And yet they let me chew on small lengths of two-by-four, which is what the deck is made of. Is this human logic? I’m allowed to chase the Kong for hours every day, but never Kong-sized animals. Digging holes at the beach? Awesome. Digging holes in the backyard? I totally get in trouble for that! I’m allowed to chew up and even EAT carrots. But not this bacon thing.
I’m going to go ahead and guess that this is a toy and not a treat. In which case I’ll recommend it for dogs with small, weak jaws. The kind of dog you might buy a blue or even red Kong for. If you have a black Kong dog, do us all a favor and steer clear of this one. Being a dog is hard enough without all these arbitrary mixed messages.
Ready to proclaim your commitment? Not QUITE ready to wear it on a t-shirt like a billboard? Well here’s the perfect compromise. The I Love Bacon Necklace. Simultaneously bold yet understated, casual observers may even mistake it for the infamous “Mother” banner of sailor tattoo lore. Each necklace is individually hand-sculpted, so for just $20 you can have your own one-of-a-kind.
If you’re not yet familiar with Etsy, I cannot recommend it highly enough. It’s an online community for artists, crafters, designers…anyone who makes anything. This site allows you to buy directly from the starving artists themselves, which makes everyone feel good. So spread the love. Feel the noize. Tell the world how you really feel.
There are a wide variety of ways to express your love of bacon. In coming posts I’ll show you some wearable trinkets designed by the truly devout. I begin today with the BLT Ring, with big thanks to Cool Hunting and (who else?) The Grateful Palate.
It goes without saying that I adore the BLT, the only sandwich that makes bacon the star instead of just an extra indulgence. If you haven’t seen the bacon mat and its many useful application (i.e. making the perfect BLT), visit Lloyd and Lauren for a few ideas.
If this ring is too subtle for your taste, stick around. I’ll help you find the perfect way to visually scream your commitment to this most holy of breakfast meats.
I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage with my books, my family and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post, which any human power can give. — Thomas Jefferson