Bacon, or the simile thereof
Some number of years ago (the exact figure is debatable) my spouse and I reached an agreement - I would bring home the bacon, and he would cook it. This isn't so much a statement of role reversal as it is of his ability to cook (well, bake) bacon. This past weekend I found myself lamenting to a third party that it has been a while since bacon has been cooked at my house, and what with the weather turning hotter, it would likely be several more months before I got to enjoy more land-salmon.
So imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to walk in the kitchen door tonight after work and see the bacon pan was out, with cooked grease in it! On top was a plate, with carefully laid paper towels. And on said paper towels was.... a pile of cinders in the shape of gnarled bacon strips.
I'm guessing these cinders started out their life as bacon, and then the kids became a distraction.
But as of now, I am still bacon-free.
Sigh.
So imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to walk in the kitchen door tonight after work and see the bacon pan was out, with cooked grease in it! On top was a plate, with carefully laid paper towels. And on said paper towels was.... a pile of cinders in the shape of gnarled bacon strips.
I'm guessing these cinders started out their life as bacon, and then the kids became a distraction.
But as of now, I am still bacon-free.
Sigh.