Bacon. Truckers love it. Hipsters love it. And if Top Chef is anything to go by, it’s foodies’ second-favorite pork product, after pork belly (which is more or less bacon, or at least adjacent to it). Although bacon has long been part of this complete breakfast, its popularity has recently lept out of the frying pan and into the even larger frying pan. From Baconnaise and chocolate-covered bacon to bacon bandages and bacon-scented air fresheners, there’s few areas of American culture where this humble yet mighty meatstuff has yet to venture. Which explains why I had the privilege of laying down $50 to attend the packed “More Bacon, All the Time” cooking class at the North Lamar Central Market on Saturday. “More Bacon” because the class had been so popular when it was first taught that students clamored for another round. “All the Time” because from salad to entree to dessert, every course was distinctively porcine in character. Only the two glasses of red wine I imbibed were bacon-free, and even then I’m a little suspicious. The menu, taught by Central Market chef Cindy Haenel, included the following recipes:
Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing
Bacon-Wrapped Fillet Mignon and Scallop Skewers
Chicken Cordon Bleu with Proscuitto
Macaroni and Cheese with Pancetta Crisps
Bacon Baklava
Now for my odd confession: despite my general willingness to mange most tout*, I have an unexplained aversion to meat-on-meat action. This includes chili cheeseburgers, club sandwiches and bacon-wrapped anything. It just seems unnatural and overly decadent. While I won’t go out of my way to avoid mixed-meat concoctions, I virtually never order or make them myself. (However, food like meatballs or gyros are OK; these are cases where two meats unite to create a newer, better meat product. Jambalaya and gumbo are also acceptable, perhaps because the rice/broth act as a neutral matrix that keeps the meats from coming into intimate contact.) Yet, despite my eccentricity, I found myself enjoying (indeed, salivating over) everything on the menu. The rich, chewy scallop in particular benefited from the bacon’s potent jolt of flavor. Even the infamous bacon baklava had just enough bacon to make it smoky without tasting like some unfortunate breakfast-dessert collision. Although by the time the final course came about, I had probably eaten more (pork) bacon in the previous two hours than I had in the year prior. For, you see, I am one of the sorry souls who actually buys those spongy pinkish strips known as turkey bacon. Not as a question of taste, of course, but of health. But given that I’ve had the same package of “bacon” in the freezer for the past three months, perhaps I should stick to the genuine article. Because if there’s one thing “More Bacon, All the Time” taught me, it’s that there’s no food that can’t be improved with a little streaky, greasy, artery-hardening slice of America.
*If I can’t be pretentious when talking about gourmet food, then when can I?
Look, Sally, Look 