Saving bacon
The madness, the blasphemy, has to stop. It's been on low flame for some time now, but it all came to a sizzling head while I was standing in the checkout line: bacon flavored lip balm ... right next to the tin of bacon gumballs. Bacon, it seems, has become the breakfast-food equivalent of 1980s hair metal bands: a gaudy, bastardized version of something beautiful and true.
It started innocently enough, with the trendsetters incorporating bacon into their menus -- like Murray's $17.95 plate of bacon-wrapped jumbo shrimp, or the smoky-sweet Bacon Manhattan at Town Talk Diner. Then good old-fashioned American business innovation kicked into gear and practical essentials, like Baconnaise -- the medley of bacon and mayonnaise -- were born.
But oh, how quickly it got out of hand. The Triple Rock Social Club, looking to move more PBR, came up with an all-you-can eat Free Bacon Wednesdays. Peculiar mixtures started popping up around town, and nowadays bacon is giving Scott Seekins a run for his money in the "Where am I gonna see that oddball today?" department. The Bulldog N.E. has bacon scallion wontons. The cupcake caterer Miel y Leche has a banana, peanut butter and marshmallow butter cream cupcake topped with bacon, called "the Elvis." And blogs are filled with wondrous ways to utilize this versatile meat: Did you know that if you stick bacon slices on boobs you can make a bacon bra? It's gotten so out of hand that local food writer Stephanie March recently called bacon "the new Paris Hilton" -- and that's about as ghastly as it gets for a case of overexposure.
To paraphrase that one guy, it's time for change. It's time for us to reverse course, and get back to old-fashion breakfast bacon basics.
I do have to respectfully disagree with March; while it has been gratuitously hyped, bacon does actually have substance. It is authentic. Bacon has been responsible for turning more vegetarians into raging carnivores than any other factor on the planet. A veggie-leaning friend recently had major throat surgery and after she could (sort of) talk and was allowed solid foods, what did she request? Bacon. "Everyone loves bacon. The only thing better than bacon is more bacon," declares Band Box Diner griddle master Brad Ptacek.
If anything, all this exposure has gotten me thinking about the meat, and just how, exactly, it gets to my plate. Sure, it's the belly of a hog, sliced and cured. But if it's cured, why do I refrigerate it? Why can't I just wrap it in some paper and carry it around in my back pocket to pop in the microwave when the urge hits me, like Laura Ingalls Wilder did?
I consulted "The Bacon Cookbook" by James Villas, and it seems that these days the cure is for flavoring and keeping the meat's red hue rather than for actual preservation. Without curing, it would just taste like pork chops. Even the "healthy" stuff that is labeled "uncured" -- while perhaps not meeting the USDA definition -- most likely has been put into some sort of curing brine of sea salt and celery juice. Then it is either left as-is or smoked for additional flavoring. "People do it different ways, but you have to add something to the meat to get that distinctive bacon taste," says pork producer Tim Fischer of Fischer Family Farms in Waseca, Minn.
That distinctive taste is a breakfast standard, and there are plenty of places serving it up. (Try finding a local breakfast joint that doesn't have bacon on the menu. I can come up with only one: the veggie-friendly Seward Cafe.) It's time to put down the bacon mints and other perversions of nature, and bring home the real bacon.
If a reintroduction is necessary, throwbacks like Band Box, Mickey's Diner, Al's Breakfast and Ideal Diner -- where one can sit at the counter and take in the griddle action -- are great places to start. Watching the spatula operate on autopilot as the cooks absent-mindedly chitchat will help remind you how even the simple combination of bacon and eggs with a glass of orange juice can be a brilliant introduction to the day. Band Box serves up a thin-sliced, crispy, center-cut version that many prefer. At Al's, the waffle with strips of bacon embedded in the middle is just plain breakfast perfection.
Those in need of a real bacon fix can head to Cuzzy's, which, with its dim lighting, inexpensive screwdriver cocktails and sympathetic staff, works well as a morning-after stop. They whip up a Cheddar and bacon omelet that boasts a half-pound of bacon, and probably just as much cheese. If that's not enough pork, there's always Ike's weekend brunch, where they will serve you as much bacon as you possibly desire.
I'm not one to advocate for gluttony, though, so let's go for quality over quantity. The ultimate high-end version is Nueske's, which is served at a few spots around town, including Yum!, Manny's, Cosmos and Chambers Kitchen. Disciples -- and yes, they are that fanatical -- of this lean bacon swear by its smoky, meaty flavor that comes from the Wisconsin farm's smoking and curing process. The strong flavor works deliciously with the breakfast sandwich at Yum! -- an arrangement of fried egg, bacon and melted sharp Cheddar on a very good housemade English muffin.
But there's no need to rely on Badger Country for great bacon -- many Minnesota producers make high-quality and excellent tasting bacon, often with sustainable farming methods. There's Hidden Stream, Chase Brook and Prairie Pride Farm, to name a few, though unfortunately most producers only sell direct for home use. Pastures A Plenty Farm is one exception; its bacon can be found on a couple of Minneapolis breakfast menus, most notably at Kim Bartmann's spots Bryant-Lake Bowl, Barbette and the Red Stag Supperclub.
Fischer has been supplying his bacon to local restaurants for several years. This is less smoky, has more of a pork flavor and is reminiscent of traditional bacon in that it has a bit more fat. It's on a few brunch menus, such as at the Craftsman and Lucia's. Jay's Cafe in St. Paul serves it for breakfast, as does Minneapolis' Birchwood Cafe. As a bonus, Birchwood sells one-pound uncooked packages for take-home.
This is but a slice of spots around town serving up satisfying bacon plates. By all means, do your part and keep eating the stuff up. But in this new era of responsibility, please, let's keep it real.
- Peter Kastler, aka vita.mn superuser PeterHDK, also writes for his website TwinCitiesBreakfast.com.
