Paddington and the Bacon
The sad, unfortunate chapter that involves Dear Paddington and cured pork belly.
Dearest readers. If you don’t have a tissue handy, please fetch one. This sad tale could bring tears to a glass eye.
Earlier this evening, Paddington asked me if he could borrow my car so he could go up to the grocer’s and get himself a jar of orange marmalade. I threw him the keys and reminded him, “You’re going to have to move the seat forward or your legs won’t reach the peddles.” As he was heading into the garage, I asked him, “Can you pick me up some bacon please? I haven’t had any forever.” [Note: I wanted American bacon made from pork belly. Not the overcooked sliced ham they eat in Canada, Oh Canada!]
Now, I had ASSuMEd that Paddington would grab me a standard 14oz (~400 g) package from the meat cooler. This did not happen. I now know that Paddington went up to the butcher counter and asked him for some hickory wood smoked, extremely thick hand-sliced bacon.
However, and most unfortunately, Paddington brought home 6 pounds (~2.72 kg) of extremely thick-sliced, hickory smoked American bacon. He had opened the butcher wrap and set up a nice presentation of it all upon my chopping block. He even asked Alamo Basement Fighting Texas A&M “Aggie” Ring to bring his riding spurs and pose upon the monstrously large pile of American bacon like a Greek God.
The three bear “Brain Trust” were all in attendance to witness my reaction — Darkest Peruvian Paddington, Little Texas A&M Aggie Trumpet Case Bear, and the only real English bear, Pooh Bear from the Hundred Acre Woods.
I was speechless. I was going to shout at Paddington for bringing ~2.72 kg of delicious, hickory-smoked, very thick sliced American bacon home. However, I took a deep, deep breath and remembered to myself that one should never shout at a little bear and that I should have been more specific in my instructions to Paddington about the weight I needed for him to procure and “bring home the bacon.” After all, English isn’t Paddington’s first, or even second, language (Bear language, Spanish, and finally English). This embarrassment of bacon riches was totally and absolutely my fault for not being clear in Paddington’s third language.
When it comes to extremely thick sliced, hickory-smoked American bacon, I won’t be approaching the Board of Governors in the East End of London and saying, “Please Sir, may I have more?” Like Oliver Twist at the workhouse.
I did however, tell Paddington that he was going to have to prep the bacon for cooking. Pooh Bear, of the Hundred Acre Woods said, “Sir, Christoper Robin told me that once a package of bacon is opened it must be cooked and consumed within a couple of days.” Pooh, a bear of little brain, was correct. Cooked bacon is only really good for up to three days of being stored in the refrigerator.
Now, like any sane person who can cook and understands the physics of bacon, I only cook bacon in the oven unless there are zombies coming to get me and I have to use a pan in an emergency.
“Please prep the bacon for the oven.” I told Alamo Basement Texas Aggie Ring, Paddington Bear of Darkest Peru, Little Texas Aggie Trumpet Case Bear, and Pooh Bear of the Hundred Acre Woods. “I need a drink.”
About half an hour later, I returned to see what the three-bear “Brain Trust” had done. They had taken two 1/2 sheet cake pans, lined them with Al-LU-Minimum foil, and placed strips of the bacon on baking racks within the two pans.
They had taken one tray, covered the hickory-smoked, extra thick sliced bacon with Mexican three-cheese blend. Then they placed sliced, pickled jalapeños on each slice. “Excellent!” I told the three little bears. This is what the defenders of the Alamo ate every morning before they went out to play golf and tennis every day.
The second 1/2 sheet cake pan surprised even myself. The “Three Little Bears” had taken shredded white cheese, spread it around all that delicious bacon, and placed two pineapple wedges upon each slice. “That’s odd…” I thought to myself. “I’d normally only do that with Spam™.”
I placed the two trays of all of that bacon into the oven and poured myself a drink. When it was ready, I removed the trays from the oven and showed them to the bears. I really must say, both variants of the bacon turned out quite well. The white cheese pineapple roasted bacon was incredible and probably my favourite.
Now… This is my dilemma. I pulled one slice of the delicious bacon out during baking it to make sure it was time to pull. I also saved three slices of each for my own, personal consumption. I wasn’t born yesterday, so I know that this pile of delicious bacon must not remain in my home! I’d just eat it all.
Unlike all the beef jerky I make, I shan’t give any free bacon away. Can you, my dearest readers, imagine someone (even someone you knew) coming up to you and giving you bacon? NO!!! That’s the sign of a serial killer or a lunatic. People don’t want delicious craft, roasted bacon. Never, ever, ever…
My town picks up my dustbin tomorrow, so I could throw it all away. However that would be wasting delicious bacon. We have had an explosion of the possum population where I reside this year. The majestic possum will eat anything. Anything. I might start placing a few pieces upon the lawn each evening to feel the possums and save the planet.
FIN
Paddington and the Bacon
The sad, unfortunate chapter that involves Dear Paddington and cured pork belly.
Dearest readers. If you don’t have a tissue handy, please fetch one. This sad tale could bring tears to a glass eye.
Earlier this evening, Paddington asked me if he could borrow my car so he could go up to the grocer’s and get himself a jar of orange marmalade. I threw him the keys and reminded him, “You’re going to have to move the seat forward or your legs won’t reach the peddles.” As he was heading into the garage, I asked him, “Can you pick me up some bacon please? I haven’t had any forever.” [Note: I wanted American bacon made from pork belly. Not the overcooked sliced ham they eat in Canada, Oh Canada!]
Now, I had ASSuMEd that Paddington would grab me a standard 14oz (~400 g) package from the meat cooler. This did not happen. I now know that Paddington went up to the butcher counter and asked him for some hickory wood smoked, extremely thick hand-sliced bacon.
However, and most unfortunately, Paddington brought home 6 pounds (~2.72 kg) of extremely thick-sliced, hickory smoked American bacon. He had opened the butcher wrap and set up a nice presentation of it all upon my chopping block. He even asked Alamo Basement Fighting Texas A&M “Aggie” Ring to bring his riding spurs and pose upon the monstrously large pile of American bacon like a Greek God.
The three bear “Brain Trust” were all in attendance to witness my reaction — Darkest Peruvian Paddington, Little Texas A&M Aggie Trumpet Case Bear, and the only real English bear, Pooh Bear from the Hundred Acre Woods.
I was speechless. I was going to shout at Paddington for bringing ~2.72 kg of delicious, hickory-smoked, very thick sliced American bacon home. However, I took a deep, deep breath and remembered to myself that one should never shout at a little bear and that I should have been more specific in my instructions to Paddington about the weight I needed for him to procure and “bring home the bacon.” After all, English isn’t Paddington’s first, or even second, language (Bear language, Spanish, and finally English). This embarrassment of bacon riches was totally and absolutely my fault for not being clear in Paddington’s third language.
When it comes to extremely thick sliced, hickory-smoked American bacon, I won’t be approaching the Board of Governors in the East End of London and saying, “Please Sir, may I have more?” Like Oliver Twist at the workhouse.
I did however, tell Paddington that he was going to have to prep the bacon for cooking. Pooh Bear, of the Hundred Acre Woods said, “Sir, Christoper Robin told me that once a package of bacon is opened it must be cooked and consumed within a couple of days.” Pooh, a bear of little brain, was correct. Cooked bacon is only really good for up to three days of being stored in the refrigerator.
Now, like any sane person who can cook and understands the physics of bacon, I only cook bacon in the oven unless there are zombies coming to get me and I have to use a pan in an emergency.
“Please prep the bacon for the oven.” I told Alamo Basement Texas Aggie Ring, Paddington Bear of Darkest Peru, Little Texas Aggie Trumpet Case Bear, and Pooh Bear of the Hundred Acre Woods. “I need a drink.”
About half an hour later, I returned to see what the three-bear “Brain Trust” had done. They had taken two 1/2 sheet cake pans, lined them with Al-LU-Minimum foil, and placed strips of the bacon on baking racks within the two pans.
They had taken one tray, covered the hickory-smoked, extra thick sliced bacon with Mexican three-cheese blend. Then they placed sliced, pickled jalapeños on each slice. “Excellent!” I told the three little bears. This is what the defenders of the Alamo ate every morning before they went out to play golf and tennis every day.
The second 1/2 sheet cake pan surprised even myself. The “Three Little Bears” had taken shredded white cheese, spread it around all that delicious bacon, and placed two pineapple wedges upon each slice. “That’s odd…” I thought to myself. “I’d normally only do that with Spam™.”
I placed the two trays of all of that bacon into the oven and poured myself a drink. When it was ready, I removed the trays from the oven and showed them to the bears. I really must say, both variants of the bacon turned out quite well. The white cheese pineapple roasted bacon was incredible and probably my favourite.
Now… This is my dilemma. I pulled one slice of the delicious bacon out during baking it to make sure it was time to pull. I also saved three slices of each for my own, personal consumption. I wasn’t born yesterday, so I know that this pile of delicious bacon must not remain in my home! I’d just eat it all.
Unlike all the beef jerky I make, I shan’t give any free bacon away. Can you, my dearest readers, imagine someone (even someone you knew) coming up to you and giving you bacon? NO!!! That’s the sign of a serial killer or a lunatic. People don’t want delicious craft, roasted bacon. Never, ever, ever…
My town picks up my dustbin tomorrow, so I could throw it all away. However that would be wasting delicious bacon. We have had an explosion of the possum population where I reside this year. The majestic possum will eat anything. Anything. I might start placing a few pieces upon the lawn each evening to feel the possums and save the planet.
FIN