Ah, bacon. The delicious, melt-in-your-mouth perfection that has captured hearts (and clogged arteries) for generations. This breakfast staple had humble beginnings, starting out as a way to preserve pork belly before refrigerators. But bacon has evolved into a global phenomenon and is now loved by many.
From the crispy rashers of England to the smoky pancetta of Italy, variations of cured pork belly grace tables around the world. Each region adds its own twist, reflecting local ingredients and traditions. Yet, the essence remains the same.
This poem, dedicated to the one and only Dan Blakeley, is a tribute to the almighty bacon …
Oh, bacon, crispy, salty friend,
A breakfast dream that knows no end.
Forget your kale and wheatgrass woes,
For bacon's here to wiggle your nose.
We watch you writhe in greasy glee,
A dance of fat for all to see.
The smoke alarm, a familiar friend,
Wailing a song that knows no end.
On fluffy pancakes, you take flight,
In BLTs, you're pure delight.
Soup, quiche, or salad, have no fear,
A sprinkle of bacon makes us cheer.
"Trans fats and nitrates!" doctors say,
But bacon whispers, "Live today!"
Soon the plate is cleared and bare,
A smoky scent hangs in the air.
And in that moment, all is right,
A salty, savory, crispy bite.
So raise a glass, to our delicious friend,
The king of breakfast, till the very end.
I hope you’re having a wonderful start to this fine April 1st day! Hopefully it included a slice of bacon or two!
