Southern Comfort

Southern Comfort

You gotta love The New Yorker. Wry, urbane, and recently under attack for some controversial cover art. You know what? It’s not going to make me stop reading. Not when the latest edition features the Fourteen Passive-Aggressive Appetizers that would spice up any intimate gathering. And one of them includes bacon!

“2. Vegetarian friends? Try veggie rumaki: wrap a strip of imitation bacon around a water chestnut, spear with a toothpick, and broil but instead of imitation bacon use real bacon, and instead of a water chestnut use veal.”

I believe I’ve mentioned before that Thanksgiving at my house is like a carnivorous half-marathon, the table spread like 13 miles of butcher’s cases, end to end. I think my vegetarian friends are a little scared that when they come over, I’ll “accidentally” slip them a piece of pork in their salad. “Bacon? No! The pasta sauce is just made with smoked cheese!” And honestly, I would never do such a thing on purpose. It’s just that I hardly think of bacon as meat anymore. It’s more like a condiment or a cooking tool. You can’t stir sauce without a spoon, right? Well, substitute “spoon” with “bacon” and you’re thinking like me.

One evening at dinner with a group of friends and acquaintances, someone asked me, “are you from the South?”

“No. Did I just say something with a Southern accent?”

“No, but you just mentioned ribs, chicken wings and bacon all in one sentence. I just thought maybe…”

Hmph! Well, I guess I couldn’t blame him. It was my big mouth that said it. So I shut up, went home and joined the Paula Deen fan club. Then made myself a bacon, doughnut and egg burger.

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