I really don't know how I'm supposed to go back to work with all these fun recipes on the interwebs to try.
Over the holiday a friend twittered that she was expecting something called "bacon jam" in the mail. My first thought was "gagola" but I couldn't put it out of my mind. Bacon. Baaaacoooonnnn. It was like a siren song. After a few days I finally looked up the recipe online and that was it. After I read the recipe on the website I was in love. I printed it out and shunted that sheet of paper around my kitchen as I made egg nogs and Christmas cookies. Until yesterday. Yesterday I made bacon jam. And yes, my house still smells amazing.
The recipe I followed is basically just a pound of bacon and maple syrup which is pretty much my exclusive diet in March at cabane à sucre time. If it's wrong, I don't want to be right. I fried and simmered until it was just exactly what I dreamed. Smoky and salty and sweet and perfectly delicious. Holy hell. Heaven in a lock and lock container.
The kids are indifferent and Scott's not a fan so it's all mine *insert evil laughter here*. This morning I'm going to try it in a peanut butter sandwich. You heard. For those of you who've never experienced the bliss that is a peanut butter and bacon sandwich, the only excuse I'll accept is that you are a vegetarian and/or allergic to tree nuts. Try one if it won't kill you or send you into paroxysms of swine murdering guilt. This new sandwich will be fantastic because it'll have the perfect, sweet rightness of jam and the baconness of bacon laying side by side stroking each others' backs, looking deeply into each others' eyes and.... where was I?
Right. Bacon jam. I'll let you know how it goes. Right now for some reason I need a cold shower.