Wednesday, July 20, 2011

a grease-stained rant.

I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.

I thought I would be able to maintain a blog for longer than a week before I dedicated a post to bacon, but apparently that is not the case.

A load of grease, circa Pioneer Woman.  This is so bad for you.  This is so bad and so good at the same time. 

We have to talk a little bit about Bacon, Lettuce & Tomato Sandwiches.

Before starting college, I consumed BLT's at an astonishing rate.
I ate BLT's on the REGULAR.
I ate BLTS like there was no tomorrow.

I ordered them at restaurants, made them at home, and brought them to school for lunch.  The fact that I did not inflate into an amorphous blob of pork fat probably had something to do with the fact that I was swimming breaststroke for 13 hours every week; now that I do not have 13 hours a week to sleep let alone hit the pool means that college is a pretty BLT-less time for me.  This is ok.  If you have something all of the time it loses its magic.  This is what I tell myself about the Whopper Robin Eggs candy that only comes out around Easter, and also donuts. 

But the August issue of Bon Appetit recently arrived at my home, and with it a discussion centered around the "Best. Sandwich. Ever." (his words, not mine) by new editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport. 

I had previously been mourning the magazine’s loss of ex-EIC Barbara Fairchild, who had manned the helm of the publication for ten delicious years, but THIS.  THIS RIGHT HERE.  This won me over.  I am Team Adam.  Barbara will rule in my heart forever, but if Adam can talk bacon I have no reason to be afraid.

(My family likes Bon Appetit.  I think we have every issue since February 1982.  They lay around my house with post-its sticking out of them at odd angles and 64% of the pages dogeared.  We do not apologize.  We eat WELL.)

Adam's article outlines the ease with which a BLT can transcend ordinary and become almost exotic.  Like a true food snob, he recommends simply opting for shi-shi versions of the sandwich’s standard ingredients: thick-cut, small-batch bacon; slices of multi-colored and bulbous heirloom tomatoes; toasted slices of bread from "proper loaves."  I don't mind the tried and true sandwich cornerstones (and also don't know what a "proper loaf" is) and instead like the idea of playing with spreads: homemade and flavored aioli, hummus, guacamole, pesto, etc.  During high school, I would mash up avocado with ketchup to spread on my sandwich of choice -- feel free to vomit now -- but regular basil-and-pine nut pesto has become my new go-to.  I've matured or something.  Mostly I think that as long as there is some crispy B, a load of L and some slices of T, you pretty much have creative license to do whatever the hell you want with it.  Its a sandwich, people.  No rules.

At my house, however, the sandwich that WE lovingly refer to as the World's Greatest Sandwich is a riff on the BLT brought to our attention not by a major food publication, but instead an Adam Sandler movie.

Spanglish is about a lot of things, but for at least three minutes, it is about what a world famous chef would make for himself as a midnight snack.  It is a BLT with cheese and a fried egg.  It is killer.  Watch the clip and get the recipe and do NOT worry about whether or not your jorts will zip up tomorrow because that does not matter in the face of GREATNESS.  Eat now, long run later.

Moral of the story:  I like to cook healthy food, and that's what you'll see here for the most part.  But bacon has played a role in my past.  And you can't change that sort of thing.

This is so many words.  I apologize.  I will never use this many words again.
At least about meat.

1 comment:

  1. So I'm a vegetarian and therefore haven't eaten bacon in two years (DISCLAIMER: I did recently sample a Vosges bacon chocolate bar after curiosity/a Whole Foods special got the better of me. Unfortunately it totally grossed me out. Too much smoky and not enough salty IMHO. Not enough to sway me back to carnivorousness). But I DO share your newfound love for Adam Rapoport and think you need to read his Grub Street food diary immediately (obsessed with this column, it's literary food porn and literally the first thing I do every Friday morning):