Today I went to brunch at the home of a friend of a friend. There were two signs taped to the door when we arrived:
1) Shoes off, please!
2) BSG spoilers strictly forbidden--THIS MEANS YOU
We made our way inside past those formidable messages and greeted everyone in the kitchen: a small crowd, since it was early, which gave me a chance to make a true confession to the host that yesterday he stepped off a curb in front of my car and I almost killed him. "Oh," he said, nonplussed and unsurprised when I told him this story, "Was I not looking? I forget to, sometimes. This actually happens kind of a lot, I think. Hope I didn't scare you, sorry!" Um, no problem...
The menu offerings were quickly dubbed "Carbtastic" by a fellow brunch-goer but I did not let this stop me: fresh-baked raisin bread still warm from the oven, pastries from Cheeseboard, homemade coffee cake with that amazing crumbly goodness on top AND homemade fresh whipped cream...the offerings went on and on, all very starchy, all marvelous in my opinion.
As the morning turned into afternoon, the spread diversified somewhat: a salad arrived, carrots and humus, a whole tray of sushi...but as the variety increased, so too did a murmuring among the guests.
mmm blah blah hmmm bacon? blah blah mmmm hmmm bacon! mmm blah hmmm blah bacon...
You see, this is a household with two things posted above the stove: a flowchart for meal item selection in which every box and arrow leads to bacon, and a new-in-the-box pair of action figures named Mr. Bacon and Mr. Tofu. So the presence of bacon in the brunch offerings is legendary, and yet was absent, and the assembled were getting restless.
"I saw the bacon on the counter, next to the refrigerator," a woman confided to me in conspiratorial tones, her hand cupped around my ear as she whispered breathlessly. "I just wish someone would fry it up already!"
Never one to not take initiative, I went into the kitchen and confirmed the bacon's presence, and then went to find the host. "There are questions about whether or not someone might cook the bacon at some point," I told him, to which he responded "Tell the people asking the questions that this is a do-it-yourself kind of brunch and that they can cook the bacon whenever they feel like it."
That was permission enough for me. Only moments later I was in action at the stove: cast-iron skillet, plate with paper towels, fork. I have not cooked bacon in decades nor eaten it in years (ahem) but really, it's a fairly straightforward food to make and soon enough the room was filled with the briny fried aroma of bacon-y goodness. People began to stream into the kitchen from other parts of the house. "Bacon? Is there bacon? Someone's finally frying that bacon? Thank God, we thought we'd have to wait all day!" So popular, I had suddenly become.
At one point a kid who was at the brunch, with whom I had been playing earlier building a Rube Goldberg-ian machines on the front of the fridge with those magnetic chutes and funnels you roll marbles through, pushed his way through the crowd up to where I was standing in front of the stove.
"What are you doing?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"I'm cooking bacon," I answered. "Do you want some when it's done?"
"What is bacon?" he asked, looking up at me skeptically.
"It's a kind of a meat, it comes from pigs," I explained.
He shook his head firmly. "I don't eat meat," he said with conviction.
"I know, neither do I," I replied.
"But why are you cooking the bacon if you don't eat meat?" he wanted to know.
"People were complaining because even though there was a package of bacon no one was cooking it, and a lot of people wanted to eat it, so instead of listening to people complain anymore I decided to cook the bacon so they could have some and be happy," I told him.
"OH," he said, nodding with deep understanding, "that kind of thing happens at my house sometimes, when it's just easier to do something you wouldn't usually do than to have a big conversation about it." And with that he walked away.
Um, right, exactly. This is why kids are awesome.
The bacon, of course, was delicious and gone as soon as we pulled it out of the very greasy skillet. Not that I would know personally if it was good, since I do not eat bacon myself.
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