Any semi-nutrative substance of which the unabashed enjoyment and indulgence is immediately followed by disgrace and regret (i.e. bacon)
Ah, bacon. The bane of every vegetarian's existence. This decadent treat of royalty and serf alike has attached to it a certain stigma, one of gluttony and over-indugence. Just the smallest taste and one can feel their arteries clogging, but just TRY resisting it's siren call, your mouth waters at the smallest hint of it's savory aroma. Let's get something straight first, bacon flavor: no, I had a less than stellar experience with bacon flavored popcorn that I'd prefer to forget (what?!? I HAD to try it); actual bacon: YES. I, for one, will fly in the face of this shame food and enjoy it openly at an event intended to celebrate just that: Denny's Baconalia, A Celebration of Bacon.
I called a friend (and her husband) to come with me so I wouldn't be eating this bacon feast alone in a booth at the neighborhood Denny's (I do have some standards). I think her acquiescence had more to do with her husband overhearing the conversation and picking up on the word "bacon" in repetition. Bacon is like man catnip.
While there were so many items to choose from (really, there are only 7), I opted for the bacon flapjack, aka. the shame pancake. They put bacon in the batter...no joke. It was actually pretty good, something I think could be enhanced by my fry-the-pancake-in-butter technique. Should I make this at home, there will be NO proof that I, in fact, made and ate the entire batch...
The shame pancakes were followed by the most ballsy move I have ever encountered in a mid-priced diner chain. THE BACON SUNDAE. No, they're not kidding. Ice cream, maple syrup, and bacon. Aside from fair food, this has to be up there in the shame food category. No one admits it when they finish an entire gallo...uh, I mean pint of ice cream nor do they openly snatch the last vesitges of bacon with a moistened finger off their child's plate, the table, AND the cooled frying pan from whence the bacon came.
When the glasses of shame were served, my friend was a little freaked out. (I'm assuming it's because her husband, undaunted by her reserve, ordered one also and should his bowels have exploded as a result of an influx of pork product and dessert topping, she has to do the laundry.) Her exact words? "That's so weird." I can't argue, a bacon sundae sounds terrible, but be that as it may, I tend to subscribe to the thinking of the iconic font of wisdom, Lorelei Gilmore, who said (in the episode The Breakup, Pt 2) "It looks so gross which is usually the mark of a great junk food." I could expound on that, but that's fodder for a future blog. On to the shame sundae...it was actually GOOD. And believe it or not, I thought it could use a little more bacon. Really, vanilla ice cream and maple syrup are so cloyingly sweet they would put a rhinoceros in a sugar coma, so the savory saltiness of the bacon was a welcome addition. It's not my dessert of choice (tiramisu *sigh*) but I could totally see myself getting comfy with a few scoops of vanilla, some left-over bacon, and a good book at some point.
Until then,
AC 'n' Rory's Mom
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