I like my bacon crispy. I like it pliant. I like it burnt. I like it ground, raw, and then used as forcemeat. I like it in my apple pie. I like it with a maple-vodka martini. I like my bacon, I like my bacon, I LIKE MY BACON!
Dark, dark, dark as night. Dark as sin. Dark as the closet harboring monsters and bad dreams. Dark as tar.
Onglet/hanger, please. Medium rare, and with a side of pommes frites.
Sourdough bread, thick slices of ham, mayo, spicy brown mustard, and thinly shaved gruyere. Mmmm.
Tillamook Vintage White Cheddar.
Oh, I do love a just-shy-of-crisp slice, one that yields to the pressure of tooth without shattering!
Onglet/hanger for me, please. Medium rare. With a side of frites.
Strong coffee and a knish... what else can one stomach with a New York hangover?
Spatchcocking that bad boy! He'll roast, butterflied, over aromatics. Mmmmmmmmmmm.
The heart and liver get cooked up for a lucky Corgi to snack on. The rest get put in a pot with water and aromatics to simmer, simmer, simmer throughout the day. The stock that comes out of that brew is the basis for our gravy.
....yum!
I like my bacon crisp.
crispy om the outside but chewy on the inside.
just a pinch on the crispy side
Plentiful. Crispy or pliant, doesn't matter!
Oh Crispy most definitely!!
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