Gimme a "B"

Here are three things I like to do with bacon:

One: fantasize.
"Aha!" you might say, as if catching me in a logical inconsistency. "If you have bacon, then you don't need to fantasize about it. You can only fantasize about bacon you don't have."

Wrong, and wrong. I have four and a quarter pounds of Millheim bacon in the fridge— and the store, incidentally, is Penn's Valley Meats, and not "Bierly's," as I mistakenly mentioned in an earlier post— and I have been fantasizing about it all day. I'm going to give a pound to P1, and a pound to P2; I'm going to freeze a pound; and with the rest, I'm going to make things. And like the astrological animals lining up to visit Buddha, the possibilities are out there, waiting. They're starting to form constellations.

Two: engineer the test slice(s).
This is about as close as our kitchen gets to the scientific method. As a lifelong anti-positivist, I cannot stress fully enough the urgency of reversing this bias when it comes to bacon. Testing is very important. One doesn't want to make any mistakes. So before starting any recipes, fry up a slice, to check for smokiness, sweetness, fat content, cooking time, and so froth. Go on, fry up two.

Three: go for it.
The French call it passage à l'acte. What is one to do with all this fantasizing and preparation? Let it run its course.

The first and, let's face it, maybe even the best, thing we did with yesterday's bacon trove is to make B.L.T.s. Given, it's winter. Trying to find a good off-season tomato is about as close to quixotic as anything I can imagine. (see item One, on fantasy, above). All the same, on a warmed, buttered baguette everything took flight. The home-smoked, home-cured Millheim bacon came to life, with a decent tomato and a few leaves of romaine lettuce keeping the sandwich bright and cheery. I can only imagine what this will taste like in the summertime, with some of the local tomatoes at the height of their season. (or would this be a T.B.L., and thus a wholly different affair?)

This bacon is pretty spectacular stuff. There is other local bacon, too: Nittany Meats in Zion, PA also has excellent bacon (and sells whole slabs and bacon ends, too, which helps for recipes). But what distinguishes the Millheim bacon is its particular combination of sweetness and smokiness; and the pork bellies themselves seem also to be of an extraordinarily high quality: lean and flavorful. There's an experiential dimension, as well: one of the benefits of driving out to buy some is that you pass through some magnificent farmland along the way, with Amish horses-and-buggies trotting down the road as you go. Magic.

For the sake of future reference, here are my five favorite bacon dishes, a list subject, of course, to adjustment.
N.B. this does NOT include uncured pork-belly recipes, and the like. How could it?

1. Pumpkin-bacon risotto. A household staple, so we'll make this sooner or later.
2. Pasta with peas and bacon. Should be pancetta, but hey, we're in Pennsylvania.
3. Frisée salad with lardons, sautéed potatoes, and poached egg.
4. B.L.T. panzanella (courtesy of Alton Brown).
5. Spiced nuts with sugared bacon, a New York Times recipe we made for a party in December. And wow. Hell, skip the nuts; the sugared bacon is a revelation. Here's the recipe, adapted from the NYT.

First, the nuts. In a largish bowl, beat an egg white, and add about two cups of good roast nuts-- mixed, or just almonds or cashews-- along with 2 tablespoons of sugar, and then garam masala (homemade is best, of course, but you can buy it pre-ground), cumin, cinnamon, allspice, and a little pinch of cloves. This is all to taste, but best to go in descending order. Also add salt and cayenne. Toss everything together.

Spread the nuts on a baking sheet, put in a preheated 325 oven, and roast for about 15 minutes, tossing early and often to avoid mini-omelettes from forming. When toasty but not scorched, transfer to a bowl and raise the temperature of the oven to 350.

Meanwhile, the bacon. On another baking sheet covered with parchment paper sprayed with Pam (the sugar will caramelize and make for a dreadful cleanup otherwise), spread out 3/4 pound of bacon in a single layer, using two pans if necessary. Sprinkle on both sides with about 1/2 cup of light brown sugar. Bake this until the bacon is crisp and dark golden, 20 to 25 minutes. Now, the bacon is DELICIOUS if you take it out before it gets too crispy, but for the sake of the recipe it's important to get the bacon quite crisp, since it will be mixed with the nuts. Use your judgment here. But the phenomenon of turning a meat product into confectionery is eye-opening. Heart-stopping, too, but what the hell: this is a seasonal treat, for winter only. Make it in December. Diet in January.

Finally, cool the bacon on a wire rack over newspaper. Break the slices into bite-size pieces and mix with the nuts.

When we made this in mid-December, we found that the party guests had picked out all the bacon, and that there were still nuts left over in the dish. So don't be skimpy.

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As a little post-script, I visited Hout's on their last day of business. Very depressing. The owners seem to have torpedoed the business in order to make a profit from the land.

I did, however, buy five jars of Bovril.