Bacon-O-Rama! Or, the latest installation of Bacon Says I Love You

I'm simply giddy with thoughts of my favorite cured pork product today. Not only is Salon doing Pork Week (read the first installation about my beloved bacon here, and perchance you should try the bacon bra (yes you read that right)) , but my friend Mike sent me the ultimate gift pack of BACON SALT:


Beautiful, isn't it? And kosher too!

He says, and I quote: "To ensure that your child (wow isn't that a scary concept; it is like saying Mike's wife) is brought up in a caring and loving environment, I thought it was wise to start the little bundle of joy off (in the womb no less) with the sweet loving taste of BACON!"


I just got teary-eyed over that sweet sentiment. There's definitely no fear of the baby not knowing what bacon tastes like. The two things that have tasted good to me throughout pregnancy thus far, no matter how queasy or heartburny or food averse: bacon and beer. Figures, eh? (To be clear here, I have only had long-savored occasional sips of whatever delicious, delicious beer my husband has been drinking, so nobody go calling Child Protective Services just yet. But damn, I don't think beer ever tasted so good as it does NOW THAT I CAN'T HAVE IT.)


Bacon, however, given its no-alcohol content, I have devoured with impunity.

Because Bacon Says I Love You

This all started out in a perfectly innocent e-mail exchange with my Tulane law school classmate Mike, who is responsible for that phrase. He gave us this pearl of wisdom at 8am on the last Sunday of April 1998 as he cooked us hangover breakfast (replete with bacon) and served us beer before we headed out for a day of Jazz Fest-ing in New Orleans.

Our 10-year law school reunion is coming up in April, and I've been busy booking plane tickets and B&Bs, and reading menus like poetry as I plan my New Orleans eating itinerary. This is serious business, especially since Seth is coming with me, and he has never been to New Orleans. I was once mocked by an old boyfriend for discussing what to order for dinner that night at Frankie & Johnny's while I was still standing in line waiting to order lunch at Mother's. You can see why that boyfriend didn't last. This kind of thing makes perfect sense to the people of southern Louisiana, who take their eating seriously.

Anyhow, Mike sent me a link to Cochon, a relative newbie in the distinguished New Orleans dining scene. I think I have to go there, because anything named after a pig cannot be bad.

Then I got this in my e-mail:

"Because you know what says love?"

My response:

"That's a beautiful thing. You've got me all teary-eyed. I might swoon. "

Mike:

"I have that effect on women; check out http://www.baconsalt.com/ "

And goddamn! It's BACON SALT.

Now I really might swoon. How have I lived this long without knowing this existed?

And it's VEGETARIAN and KOSHER. OMG! Oy vey! The guilty pleasure possibilities of this are practically endless. Kale and BACON SALT. Matzo and BACON SALT. Tofu and BACON SALT. Gefilte fish and BACON SALT. Ok, maybe that last one is too much to ask, even of BACON SALT.

This just proves what the devoted smoked, cured, pork devourers among us have known all along: Everything tastes better with bacon. Even if you're a vegetarian or a Jew.

Bacon: it will unite us all.

Less Talking, More Bacon!

I love these quirky "Tony" cartoons.

Check them all out on salon.com.

Because everything is better with bacon.