Saturday, 2 October 2010

Hamming it Up

I'd just like to mention that I made bacon sandwiches today, and cooking bacon is actually harder than it looks. Firstly, you've no idea how hard it is to get a pig at short notice. (Some people would just buy the bacon, but this smacks of amateurism to me. If I've never cooked something before, I like to do it properly.) The next problem I had was getting the meat off the pig...

Once the pig and I had wrestled for a while, complete with dramatic crash through plate glass window, something became clear to me. Neither of us were going to win. I pictured myself and this unholy swine engaged in everlasting combat: two mighty titans, forever in conflict until the trumpet sounded for the day of judgement. Two behemoths, locked in a war that knew neither end nor victor: an image to be passed through myth and folk memory, to be passed down in the oral traditions of far distant cultures.

This would not do: I wanted to be a man who lived for the moment, not the ages. I wanted a glorious legacy of deeds I had done, not the fight I would be forever embroiled in. I wanted a life, to live, die, laugh and love: a time for greivances and sorrow, and a time for happiness and victory.

Also, it was nearly lunchtime, I ought to get this bacon done, and my bladder was kind of full.

It was clear we needed a compromise. After all, conflict creates no real endings, and is ultimately futile: or, as the poet said:
"War. (huuuh. Yeah.)
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing."
And so the pig and I entered diplomatic relations. I'll admit, as propositions go, "I want to eat some of your flesh and have nothing to offer you, oh combat pig" isn't a great one. In fact, his response was less than enthusiastic. Great. I'd not only found the world's first pig that could talk, but the world's first pig that was trained in debating.

The issue was that he insisted that he ought to have some human flesh as recompense, and, well, I rather like my flesh, thank you. The man who fortunately rang at this point to clean the windows probably rather liked his, too, but it's amazing how quickly you can tie up and gag an errant window cleaner with porcine might on your side. I granted the pig use of my kitchen and culinary facilities, and he soon left after I took a good sized chunk of flesh from his side. Apparently window cleaner tastes good. Anyway, he promised to keep in touch, and wandered away over the horizon. Lovely bloke.

His flesh was cooking nicely in the frying pan, and looked fairly ready. In fact, I was about to serve it up when something important struck me: bacon isn't just any flesh off the pig. Bacon is smoked.

I don't know if you've ever tried rolling meat up in cigarette papers, but it's harder than it looks. It's also tricky to light and trickier to keep burning. And it smells... as if you've set a pig on fire. Also, I have the majority of a window cleaner to dispose of...

I'm not going to say this bacon sandwich has been an unqualified success, but we live and learn. Anyway, that's the bacon out the way.

Now to get my hunting gear on. I have a loaf of bread to catch.

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