Again With The Butty?

Are you getting bored with closeup photos and hyperbolic verbiage about the same damn sandwich day after day? If so, too badsky, because I'm not getting tired of eating it.

I found the brown sauce. Turns out "brown sauce" in the British Isles is the same (or close) to steak sauce here in the colonies. So, off I went to my local upscale supermarket to obtain my very first ever bottle of A-1. My friend the butcher had to show me where it was kept - only two bottles on the lowest shelf in the sauce aisle, 'way down by the floor. I think they were a little embarrassed that they even carry it for peasants like me.

I took it in triumph to the checkout, along with my free-range, local, organic chicken and other assorted snobberies.

At home, I fixed my fourth bacon butty, this time with a dollop of brown sauce oozing out. Perhaps if I was raised with steak sauce, I would have appreciated it more but I'm a simple soul and I tend to like simple foods. I actually prefer my bacon sandwiches with just the butter and the toast. Still, I'm happy I tried it.

I have read that, in England, it's traditional to have a block party on the day of the royal wedding where all the neighbors sit down together and have a meal at tables that are set up in the middle of the street and draped with British flags, a celebration for all who were not invited to Westminster Abbey. I'm very tempted to invite my neighbors to set up tables in our funny little alley and, draping them in American flags (of course), sit down to a dinner of British bacon butties, complete with champagne to toast the royal couple.

It might be a way to use up that bottle of brown sauce.

It's All Her Fault

When we were growing up, my sister and I didn't always get along. No, that's not correct - we never got along. We were forever pointing fingers at each other and claiming, "It's her fault!"

Now that I'm slightly more adult, at least in years if not in behavior, I'm still pointing fingers. This time at J-in-Wales, who commented on Cookiecrumb's post of long ago, that she should put a dippy egg into her chip butty.

Dippy egg! And me with a box full of pastured eggs in the fridge!

I couldn't get to my toaster fast enough, to toast more of that wonderful bread, sizzle another slice of the killer Canadian bacon and gently fry one of those eggs in the same pan. I prepped the toast with a light scrape of mayo, assembled and took that first unbelievable bite.

OMG.

O.M.G.

OMG!

If my sister and I had had something like this to eat, peace might have reigned in our home. Even if it always was her fault.

Bacon Butty Revisited

Okay, I'm getting better at this. With each try, my bacon sandwich is improving, mostly because I heeded my friend Pat's advice to add more fat to the mix.

This time, I used toasted white bread, a nice, firm milk bread that I get from the little market down the hill. I buttered it, Step One in adding some fat.

I also used a different brand of Canadian bacon, Niman Ranch. Step Two. I'm pretty sure the pork isn't local - Niman gets its pork from other raisers - but it is humanely and sustainably raised. The meat is lightly marbled with fat and has a little frill of fat along one quarter of the circumference.

That marbling and frilling made all the difference. This bacon was juicy and flavorful, unlike the brand I used the first time, That Which Shall Remain Unnamed. There was a light hint of smoke but not overwhelming the taste of pig, thank heavens. I'd make this sandwich again - and, in fact, there's enough left in the package to make another. I may, if my wifely instincts aren't mugged by my greedy ones, save that for My Beloved as I'm pretty sure this would be a hit with him. We'll see.

In any case, I'm still on the trail of the perfect bacon butty but until that one comes along, this one will do nicely, thanks.

First Try

Like almost everyone I know, I was reading the sandwich issue of Saveur magazine when I came across a reference to a bacon sandwich. They had me from the word "bacon."

In this country, we love a good bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, but tomato season is months away and this sandwich didn't mention anything from the vegetable kingdom, unless you count the bread.

It seems to be a favorite in England, where it is served in pubs and greasy spoons, often with brown sauce or ketchup added but sometimes, it's just buttered bread and bacon. When I looked for additional references, it seemed to be less like what we call bacon and more like Canadian bacon, quite a bit leaner. I thought immediately of the Comstock bacon sold at Butler Meats in Carson City and wished I had some of that.

Anyway, I bought some Canadian bacon, buttered two halves of a split herbed focaccia slice, grilled them and the bacon briefly, and slapped together a sandwich.

The verdict: Keep Trying. It was too lean to be tasty and needed a smokier, tastier product than the one I bought, which shall remain nameless. I'd also cook the bread in the same pan as the bacon next time, to let it absorb some of that flavor. I will look for some steak sauce to juice it up a bit.

I'll keep trying until I make a really tasty bacon butty; it will be its own reward.

Lambasted

I'll bet you think that looks like a big mess of bacon, don't you? You'd be right, except the rashers are small and slender - it's lamb bacon.

I had never heard of such a thing before taking a pleasure trip out to Point Reyes Station and stopping at Marin Sun Farms for a dozen of their amazing eggs. One of the meats they had on display was the lamb bacon. Irresistible!

We crisped it as you would regular bacon and served it alongside half a bagel and a couple of those sunny yellow eggs. You can tell how nearly orange the yolks were before scrambling by the color they retain after. They look like I touched them up on Photoshop but, uh, no. We basted the bottom of the pan with a little of the lamb fat rendered from the bacon for a little extra flavor before we poured in the eggs.

The bacon tasted smoky and salty at first, as one expects from bacon, but after a couple of chews, here came that distinctive, dark lamb flavor almost as an aftertaste. There was no sweetness, which I liked given the strong flavor of the lamb. My Beloved wolfed down his portion and looked so longingly at mine that I took pity on him and gave him a couple of strips. I think he would tell you he loved having his innards lambasted.

Homage

Just had to show you this. Isn't it beautiful?

I took it out of the freezer, thinking it was a pound of ground beef that I would use to make burgers for dinner. Instead, when it had thawed and I unwrapped it, I remembered buying it at Baron's Meats in Alameda simply because I was charmed by this beautiful little display of the butcher's art.

Inside is a tail of beef filet, cunningly folded and wrapped in woven bacon and tied with string. Fifteen minutes in a 400 degree oven, a ten-minute rest on the counter and you have a perfect, medium rare roast with crispy bacon all around.

The dog went nuts as the aroma of smoky bacon filled the house. We gave her the platter to lick after dinner - we didn't have the heart not to give her a little taste. Must get back to Baron's soon to tell them what a treat it was for us all - and to buy another one.

The Butcher In Me

Here's a new experience for me - slab bacon. I had heard about it, of course, as several other food bloggers I know have cured their own bacon and sliced their own slabs, but I'm a tamer soul than that - I usually buy bacon in neat slices thanks to some kindly butcher.

But, when Chilebrown offers me bacon, and cajun bacon at that, I don't ask if it's sliced, I just say, "Yes, please!"

I've heard lots of lines in my time but, "Baby, you bring out the butcher in me" is a new one, even for me. Not one you'd use in a fern bar, is it? (Am I dating myself by referring to fern bars?).

Anyway, I got out my second-biggest knife and went to work, carving pretty creditable rashers until the last few when the slab got wobbly and thin. Those last three slices had a thick and a thin end. Never mind, they were all very tasty and the bacon cooked up easily and crisply, which I appreciate, being a lover of crispy bacon.

As I mentioned, this is cajun bacon, the rind side being spread with a mixture of mild peppers to give it a little kick of heat. Chilebrown knows I'm a spice wimp and he didn't do me dirt - the spiciness was pretty mild and just added an additional flavor layer.

He didn't tell me where he got this bacon. If you want to know, you can visit his blog and ask him yourself. He's a nice guy, even if he does bring out the butcher in me.

Simply The Best

I owe Chilebrown a favor. Perhaps a big cup of Catahoula coffee (his current favorite) or a jar of my peach jam once it is made in September. Or something significant, anyway, because he let me know that Baron's Meats in Alameda carries Nueske's Bacon.*

When I first moved to this area, there was a wonderful little market in our town that carried Nueske's bacon. Sadly, it has changed hands and the new owners carry some other, in my view vastly inferior, brand. So, when I heard Nueske's was available elsewhere, I girded my loins for a trip down the "Nasty Nimitz" highway to Alameda - in the rain, no less, which should show you just how dedicated a Nueske's fan I truly am.

The charming young butcher behind the counter (she who dressed as a giant steak for Hallowe'en last year and posted a picture of herself so adorned on the side of the cash register) hand-sliced my pound, the resulting rashers being thicker than any I had ever prepared before and a little more difficult to crisp without burning but, oh, that Nueske's flavor! Salt, smoke and sweet balanced perfectly in a chewy-but-crispy matrix of meat and fat. We had the first BLTs of the summer season, a fitting tribute to simply the best bacon I've ever tasted.

*BTW, you can order Nueske's bacon online from the website and Father's Day is just around the corner. A bacon sampler doesn't cost much and I can pretty much guarantee that your Dad will love you best if you give him bacon. Just remember that it's like online gambling - addictive.

Comstock Lode

Knowing that we were headed for Carson City, a town first established because of silver mining in the area of Virginia City, our pal Chilebrown advised us to visit Butler Gourmet Meats on the main drag in Carson for the best in meats to bring home. He described it as the Mother Lode of meats. Knowing that our pal Chilebrown is a serious meat expert, we complied. Between wedding festivities, we searched out Butler and drooled a bit on their cases.

If one can ever call a butcher shop "lovely," Butler meats fits the description. Scrupulously clean and staffed with eager helpers, it is a pleasure to do business there. Asking a few questions, I discovered that, while their lamb is sourced locally, their other meats come from the Midwest and their chickens from Petaluma, which is close to my home so I decided to purchase only meats they cured or sourced locally. We bought three items to bring home - bacon burgers, barbecued pork ribs, and Comstock bacon.

Behold the bacon.

My lunch was a poached egg on wheatberry bread with a slice of the heavenly Comstock bacon sandwiched between the egg and the toast. I fried the bacon lightly in a pan first (the curing doesn't cook it), then laid it on the toast while I filled the same pan with water and poached my egg. Comstock bacon is cured the same way as regular rasher bacon, but it's much leaner, more like Canadian bacon with just a frill of fat running through. It is hickory smoked, maple cured and nitrate free. All that care is evident in the flavor. It is smoky and rich, with just a hint of maple sweetness - pure pig brought to its highest aspiration.

I hummed with anticipation as I made my lunch and m-m-m-m-ed with appreciation when I took my first smoky, piggy bite. I struck it rich in the Comstock (bacon) lode.

Visceral Reaction

Viscera. Ugly, ugly word. Conjures up all the roadkill I have ever turned my eyes away from. But, I have to admit that I rather enjoy this particular kind.

I was over in Marin the other day for an annual dental checkup - I'm happy to report that my choppers are good for another six months or 600 meals, whichever comes first. When I go over there, I usually stop at the Woodlands Market as a treat afterward, to see how the other half lives. It's a lovely, if pricey, little supermarket that often carries things I don't see in other stores and, sure enough, it came through with calf's liver this time.

I've written about Mrs. Jenkins' liver before but I thought I'd remind you liver lovers out there how good it can be with some nice sautéed onions and a couple of strips of bacon. If your market doesn't carry it, treat yourself to dinner here. They know how to do it right.

Fat, Salt and Sugar

"Artisan" seems to be the "in" word these days. All kinds of products come labeled to attract us foodies with the word "artisan." I'm hopeful that the word won't lose its meaning with overuse.

However, I fell for it one more time - picked up this package of "artisan" bacon and brought it home.

It was seriously good. The salt-to-sugar balance was even and the smoky flavor was pronounced without being overwhelming.

The American diet - salt, fat and sugar - goes artisan!

On A Raclette Kick

I'm learning more about raclette every time I make it, which is frequently in the past month or so - I seem to be on a raclette kick. Something about my Irish side loves the idea of spuds in any form whatever and if you add slightly stinky French cheese and (this time) bacon, all the rest of my genes sit up and beg for dinner.

I wish I had known about raclette while I was still working - this is the perfect dish for a busy worker bee, ready in a flash. The traditional pickles and pickled onions are already prepared and I would have boiled a bunch of small red potatoes and fried a few extra strips of bacon on the weekend so I was ready to heat them briefly in the microwave, pop on the cheese and other toppings, run it under the broiler while quickly steaming a veg or tossing a salad, et voila! Even without pre-cooking the spuds and bacon, this dish could go from ingredients in the fridge to finished dinner in about half an hour.

The block of raclette cheese I bought this time was softer and riper than the previous two I have tried, nicely stinky and a little sticky when I unwrapped it, less like Swiss and more like epoisse. Trimmed of it's orange outer rind, it made a simply killer raclette. Had I not added the bacon bits, it still would have been one of the best raclettes I have made; with the bacon bits it was Raclette Nirvana.

I promise not to post every single variation of this recipe that I try on my raclette kick, but the possibilities are endless!

Easy Bacon Bits

I love real bacon bits in salads or scrambled eggs but making them is a chore - all that frying and cleaning up the overspray for a few strips of bacon. Recently, however, I discovered an easy, abundant source of bacon bits for those of you who live in the Bay area.

Here's what you do. Drive to your nearest Barney's gourmet hamburger palace, sit down, and order their B.L.T. sandwich and a mocha milk shake. Don't forget the mocha shake - it's crucial to the plan.

While awaiting your sandwich, make goo-goo eyes at your Beloved across the table while you sip your mocha shake, which will have arrived well before your sandwich. Barney's mocha shakes are killer, made with real ice cream, real chocolate sauce and real coffee, served in a very tall glass with a wide-bore straw (that's still not wide enough to allow you to suck up such a thick shake) and alongside the other half of your shake in the metal blender container with a long spoon (very helpful!).

If you have followed directions carefully, by the time your sandwich arrives you will be too full of the mocha shake to eat another bite of anything. Now, ask for a box in which to transport your sandwich (which, parenthetically, is 'way too thick to bite, anyway, and too awkward to eat with a knife and fork) home. Once you get home, take apart the sandwich and pick out all the bacon, putting it into a separate baggie that you will keep in the fridge. On my sandwich, there was fully 3/4 of cup of bacon and perhaps a tad more.

Voila! a boatload of bacon to be chopped in a trice for your next omelet or salad! Nothing could be easier! And you got an unbelievably good mocha shake in the process, a bonus.

Swissish

Lacking the Swiss chalet covered with snow, the roaring fire and, incidentally, the fireplace, still I wanted to try making raclette, a dish made classically by melting cheese next to a fire and scraping the lovely, now-gooey stuff onto warm potatoes. Sounds heavenly, doesn't it?

When my pal Sari and I were at Market Hall in Oakland, we visited the cheese shop where I spied a handsome wedge of raclette. It smelled wonderful, nutty like Swiss cheese but a little smellier, earthier. Here was my chance to try raclette.

Once I got home, however, and the girly thrill of brunch and shopping wore off a bit, I realized that My Beloved would ask, when served raclette, "Where's the meat?" Meals are not meals to him if they don't contain some serious animal protein and no amount of explaining that cheese is exactly that will convince him.

Then I remembered that he had bought some Irish back bacon when he was last at the store (I love sending him to the store - he always brings home stuff I would never think of buying) so I thought to add that to the classic spud-and-cheese raclette recipe.

I boiled some chunked red potatoes while the back bacon sizzled in the iron frying pan, removing the bacon when it was lightly browned and cutting it into bite-sized pieces. When the potatoes were tender, I drained and tossed them in the frying pan, stirring them around to coat with the small amount of bacon fat (back bacon is very lean compared to belly bacon), then topped them with the bacon and thick slices of the raclette cheese. Under the broiler to melt and lightly brown the cheese, and less than five minutes later we sat down to an amazing meal.

The potatoes made a wonderful undercarriage for the salty bacon and earthy, unctuous cheese. It's simple food, hearty and sustaining. Makes you wish you were Swiss, or at least had spent all day schussing down the slopes.

Years ago we tore out our fireplace in favor of a sweeping view of the bay and we rarely miss it; last night might have been one of those times. We'd still have been missing the snow and the chalet, however, so we lit the candles and called that good enough.

Yes, Please!

Each new dog who enters my life teaches me about her preferences for food. What was heaven for one dog is so-so to another but, as my sister says, dogs will usually eat anything when they are truly hungry. When I ask if they want some dinner, they answer, "Yes, please!" with wagging tails and happy grins.

I have always fed my dogs Science Diet dog food, having gotten a tip about it from my friend Wenirs when as an adult I got my first puppy, Daisy, a Springer spaniel. Daisy loved Science Diet and wolfed her portions so fast that we ended up having to put rocks in her bowl just to slow her down - otherwise, she would whoops on the carpet (always on the carpet, never on the easily cleaned bare floor) shortly after.

My next dog Tillie, also a Springer, was very fond of poultry (she was a bird dog, after all, and "pointed" the Thanksgiving turkey each year). Chica, a lovable mutt who strayed into my heart one day was thrilled with any food I gave her, almost pathetically grateful for having found a good home. They both got mostly Science Diet and they ate it with gusto.

Then came Cora. She did me the courtesy of sniffing her bowl of dry Science Diet before turning away.

No, thank you.

So, I added a little water, something that worked like a champ with all my other dogs.

Well, acceptable, perhaps, but not great. After two days of lackluster appetite, she turned resolutely away from that, too. Cousin J-Yah has a yellow lab, Mia, and J-Yah mixes just a little chicken broth with the dog food to whet Mia's appetite. So, I went to my cupboard and tried that:

"Now you're talking!"

She happily crunches her way through SD, but only when mixed with chicken broth.

This evening, looking for a quick and easy dinner after a day of errands, chores and catering to My Beloved who has wrenched his knee, I decided to fry some bacon for fried egg sandwiches. Guess who showed up the instant the bacon package came out of the fridge? She hung around all during the cooking, gazing hopefully from the pan to me and back to the pan. I've been wondering what mix of breeds I have gotten in Cora. Clearly, there's border collie or perhaps Australian shepherd in there, with a bit of some bird dog (she intently watches all birds she encounters) but now I see clearly that what I have is an American Bacon Hound, not a particularly rare breed, but very lovable.

Duck Bacon

Since we've been having lovely weather for ducks - chilly, foggy and rainy - I thought I'd chat today about the duck bacon we tried a short while back.

Cruising the supermarket aisles in Connecticut (have you ever noticed how hard it is to shop in an unfamiliar store?), we spied a package of this bacon nestled next to the regular pork bacon and decided to give it a ride home. We cooked it like, well, bacon and served it alongside eggs - obviously we weren't feeling terribly creative.

It was just ducky, bacon times two, richly smoky and just plain rich. The flavor was not much different than pork bacon, just more so. I didn't get to save the fat as we weren't at home but I'm sure it would have made a tasty addition to some wonderful dishes.

I'll bet you can think of some interesting applications for this product - care to share?

Green Tomato Rice

Looking around online for an appealing recipe to use up my two green tomatoes, I came across this one for Green Tomato Rice by Diana Rattray on About.com.

It made a nice side dish, similar to Spanish Rice, but more tart and with a little bit of habanero kick from the last pepper, now dried and shriveled, that I was gifted from Chilebrown a couple of months ago. What's not to like about a rice recipe that includes tomatoes, onions, chicken broth and bacon? I could have added the Parmesan cheese option, too, but I decided to try the undressed first. I will try the Parm tonight on the leftovers*.

If you have a few nice, tart green tomatoes still clinging to your vines, here's a tasty use for them.

*I tried the Parm but it didn't thrill me, although it did add another layer of flavor and earthiness to the rice. My tongue preferred the plainer rice, finding enough diversity of taste in the bacon, onion and green tomato.

He Loves Me!, Part One

At the risk of being scorned like poor Sally Field, who took such a drubbing from the press for her remark upon receiving her Academy Award, I'll paraphrase her by saying, "My Beloved loves me! He really loves me!"

I know this because he orders bacon to be delivered to me when he's out of town on business. Sometimes he sends flowers, too, but this time it was cob-smoked bacon from Dakin Farm. Vermont bacon. Is it any wonder the guy makes me feel swoony?

Two packets of this bacon arrived on our doorstep this past week, packed into a box with another surprise, about which I will write tomorrow.

This bacon is deeply smoky and lightly salty. I used some of it to make Jamie Oliver's chicken Caesar salad, the one with chicken legs roasted over torn up bread and topped with his Caesar salad. The bacon was so smoky that its flavor invaded the chicken and improved what I thought was a virtually perfect dish.

I made it for My Beloved's homecoming - to show him that I'm nuts about him, too!

Sheeshkabobs

The most recent Sunset magazine ran a quick and easy recipe that was easily the most delicious thing I've eaten this summer - halibut kabobs with bread chunks and pancetta.

All you do is cut halibut into 2" chunks, do the same with some nice artisan bread (Sunset recommends ciabatta; we used leftover sourdough baguette) and toss the fish and bread in a little olive oil into which you have snipped fresh rosemary.

Let them stand in the herbal oil for about five minutes, then thread them onto skewers with bacon running over, under and between each piece (the recipe called for thin-sliced pancetta but I didn't have any in the house). Grill for about 7-10 minutes and devour!

Sheesh, I hardly had time to take a quick-and-dirty picture before we devoured these!

Stolen from Deetsa

Last week, Deetsa mentioned an Alsatian specialty that sounded good to me so I "borrowed" the idea from her blog and went searching on the internet for a recipe.

Tarte Flambee'. Or, if you're one of those who believe that Alsace really should still belong to Germany, Flammekueche.

It's a simple dish of very flat, thin bread covered with a mixture of creme fraiche, sauteed onions and crisped bacon bits with a little nutmeg, salt and pepper for spice and baked until the crust turns nice and brown. It sounded like heaven to me.

The dough for this pizza-like dinner rises twice, developing the flavor of the bread nicely. It's not as much of a hassle as it sounds, either - I was interrupted by some fun during the rising, stuck it in the fridge overnight, and it was still delicious the next day. Then, you roll it out very thinly on a baking sheet, top with the mixture of cooled, sauteed onions, creme fraiche and spices, and sprinkle on the bacon bits before sliding it into a 450 degree oven for about 12-15 minutes, or until the crust is richly browned but, ideally, not as close to burned as one side of ours got.

We liked it but we didn't love it. I guess we like bolder flavors. I'd make it again but I'd jazz it up a little with something more tangy than creme fraiche, maybe add some plain yogurt or mild feta cheese. When you had a bite with bacon in it, it was really yummy (as Dagny says, everything is better with bacon) but the in-between bites were a little flat. I'd also add zucchini slices and/or fresh tomato slices next time and I might not saute' the onion first.

It's a fun start to a whole bunch of different ideas for dinner, however, and I send thanks out to Deetsa for a fun idea!