You're Bacon Me Crazy

Bacon tastes good. I mean realy good. (1, earmuffs - you are not allowed to hear the following - you might be persuaded to try the delectable wavy meat and your Abba will have the Israeli army target me for assassination.) And while we're on the subject, the Jews have suffered enough in life - it's like adding insult to injury that God will smote them down if they eat bacon. I mean, why couldn't God smote them down for eating things like sardines? Or Jello - no one really likes Jello, it wouldn't be that hard to give up. But bacon? Bacon is amazing. It's like the wonder drug of the culinary world. Or the Tussin. It doesn't matter what you are making - if you infuse bacon...or better yet, rendered bacon fat into just about anything, it will be a winner, people will love you, and they will chant your name. I don't know why Top Chef contestants don't have some smoky, thick Peter Luger-worthy bacon in their stash to add to everything they make. If I were to be on Top Chef (and don't laugh, I just made a Vietnamese Beef Lemongrass soup from scratch and it was wicked good) it would be my ingredient of choice. They could call me the Baconette.

Salty waves, bubbly fat
Oh you sizzle on my tongue
You drip your salty goodness
All over my ingredients
Sometimes wrapping around like a blanket
Sometimes spread out like a rug
Your journey is not important to me
Your destination is what I seek
It creates a culinary orgasm
Bacon, you taste like heaven