memories of bacon

i was perusing the internet today at lunch and came across the bacovore's hundred. not only was it hilarious, it also brought back several memories. and since i haven't told a story about my grandparents recently, i figured it was a good time.

this first story is actually about my great-grandmother. she was an excellent cook. excellent, and without any recipes. she could look at a cupboard and a refrigerator containing nothing more than crackers, canned peas, maraschino cherries, and ketchup and somehow come up with a meal. under the kitchen sink she kept a jar that served a special purpose. every time she fried bacon, she poured the hot grease in the jar. it solidified into thick gray-white goo, flecked with charred bits of bacon. my mom still does this. she tells me no one should pour bacon grease down the drain because it will congeal and clog the pipes. my mom throws the jars away. my great-grandmother did not. she used the grease to make pie crust. waste not, want not. my mom swears that crust was the base of the greatest pies in the world.

my grandpa used to let me make bacon in their huge, old microwave when i spent the night over there as a kid. i would line up the strips carefully on the plastic tray, trying to squeeze as many as possible onto it, covering them with a paper towel. he also let me pour the pancake batter on the griddle. and we would have entenmann's coffee cake. the raspberry kind. those sunday morning breakfasts were the best.

for a long time my mom would frequently get sick after she ate. upset stomach, nausea, etc. you know what was the last straw, what led to emergency gall bladder removal shortly before my college graduation? hot bacon dressing.

nothing tastes as good as a blt on toast with crispy bacon.

and yes, i do have a jar of bacon grease under my sink.