Monday, June 20, 2011

A commentary on a a recipe!

In the past couple of decades, certain indulgences that had fallen out of favor have come roaring back with a vengeance, fueled by a wave of resentful backlash against the stifling confinements of an increasingly enlightened, sophisticated and politically correct society. Things like poker, smoking cigars, tattoos, strip clubs and the comedy of Rodney Dangerfield.  These things have come to be embraced as hard-won concessions in a battle between Good and Bad where Good is Good For Us but Bad is a Lot More Fun.
"Obviously, to even suggest that a woman doesn't deserve to earn
 equal pay for equal work is, at best, specious and misogynistic.
Now shut up and dance, bitch." 
Nothing exemplifies this mindset better than the exalted status of bacon. It's like we as a society said, "Yes, yes, you win; we'll eat more vegetables, we'll work out three times a week, we'll cut back significantly on dairy products. You win. But we're drawing the fucking line at bacon. By all that is holy, find a sliver of mercy in your soul to grant us this one small guilty pleasure and we'll do whatever you say!" I don't know who we said this to exactly. Ourselves, I guess. But we said it alright. As a result, for some, the level of devotion to all things bacon related is fanatical and unmatched outside of the most devout religious sects (many of whom, ironically, don't eat pork). And this isn't just old-timers clinging to the ways of the past. It's everybody! The eternally hip, cool and on-the-cutting-edge Gail Worley (who is one of my favorite writers) frequently devotes space on her web site to praising bacon. I know people who normally don't set foot in a kitchen at all but will happily experiment with a recipe if it calls for the inclusion of bacon. We're talking chocolate cupcakes, ice cream sundaes, anything. People love bacon more than they love steak!
Exhibit B (for 'Bacon')
Well, you know me. I want to be hip. I want in on the hot trends. I want to like what the cool kids like. Save me a seat on the bacon train! Which brings me, finally, to the item I bought at the store last week: bacon bits! I was going to put them on baked potatoes, in salads, on my famous Tots Royale (amped up tater tots with sour cream, cheese, little green onion shavings; friggin' amazing). But take a closer look at the label...

Sodium extract + salt + sodium compound + sodium concentrate + artificial bacon flavor (aka more salt) + reddish brown coloring salt x frying = yum!
Why, those are not bacon bits at all; they're 'bacon flavored chips'! What the hell is that? They're artifically flavored too? Well, now seriously, what are they?!? 'Chips' of what exactly? Wood? They're very similar to the bark nuggets people put in their gardens, only much smaller. Maybe they're little edible stones, kind of like the gravel at the bottom of a fish tank (I don't reccomend ever eating that but I also cast no judgment). No, what they are in all likelihood are a heinous mixture of sodium-based chemicals mixed together and cooked up in some sinister food laboratory.
Yeah, I'm still gonna eat 'em. After all, what do you think puts the Royale in Tots Royale? (hint: it's bacon-ish)

  • Frozen tater tots
  • Squirt cheez
  • Sour cream
  • A green onion
  • Bacon flavored chips (see above)
  1. Cook up the tots. Open the bag, put 'em on a cookie sheet or some tin foil, fire up the oven to 300 or 400. I don't know. Whatever it says on the package. Just do that.
  2. When the tots are cooked, squirt the cheez all over them. Spray cheez instead of real cheddar cheese? Yes! Cheddar cheese, even sharp cheddar, comes off as too bland. You want the tangy-ness you get from cheap, American cheese singles but you also want the nearly-liquid consistency you get from squirt cheez. Trust me, for this recipe, it's the best.
  3. Take a spoon and drop a big glop of sour cream on top of the cheezed-up tots.
  4. Chop the green onion into the tiniest pieces you possibly can and sprinkle them over everything.
  5. Go ahead and add the bacon chips, in spite of everything written about them above. Don't worry about it; you're already doomed.
  6. Put on a sleeveless t-shirt, swear at your kids, pour yourself an RC Cola and serve this up with some hot dogs or chicken wings. Voila! You're pure white trash!


Ruprecht said...


RottenMom said...

I am the conductor on the Bacon train. You can ride for free.