Sometimes odd occurrences intersect. Today I was slightly hungry, rather tired, still kind of crafty, and a tad lonely, with a dash of that devil-may-care attitude that can come upon a person when her flatmate’s out and she has no Friday evening plans. And all that converged with the fact that it’s February, obnoxious red and pink displays are out in full force no matter what store you enter, and dratted Desire is rearing her detestable, cupiditous head.
Which somehow brought these to mind:
I would say “Boom. Full speed ahead to makin’ bacon roses!” but for the fact that I have long pondered the concept of bacon covered in chocolate. Perhaps it’s Peachy’s fault, or Zingerman’s, or those crazy dissipated folk down on Lowell Street. At any rate, seeing as there was bacon in the fridge and chocolate in the cupboard, I was not about to leave either one of them to fend for themselves. In fact, I wasn’t even going to pause and consult the Internet for its wisdom regarding bacon shapes, because there were roses to make.
Into the pan went the bacon. Into the pot went the 2-cup measure of makeshift double-boiler goodness. Out came the asparagus, which was the nearest thing I could find to a stem on short notice.
This is the sort of situation that makes you wonder what you’re doing with your life: when you walk around your apartment for five minutes holding bacon wrapped around a stalk of asparagus, hoping the chocolate will set enough in its travels away from the stove that it can be set in the freezer without shifting. Or when you take a spatula to approximate a chocolate sepal and have fingers so chocolatey that it’s actually difficult to lick them off (because, let’s get real here, washing one’s hands only happens after the licking progress. It’s like being a cat for a bit, except for the chocolate-being-poisonous-to-felines aspect). Or when you are waiting for things to set in the freezer and dip banana in the melted chocolate and remember when Hillsdale’s catering folk sprang for a chocolate fountain. Then you wonder why you didn’t fail your CCA on purpose so you could stay there. Then you remember the cost of tuition. Then you think that you’ve wandered from the topic a fair bit and check the freezer. You add another coat for added stability and wonder how vexed that one friend in Ypsi will be when she learns that you made chocolate-bacon roses and didn’t bring them to her immediately. You nibble a piece that simply refused to stay in place and look like a series of petals, then wonder if you have just used too much chocolate. And then wonder if you have lost all concept of proportion and propriety with respect to chocolate. Gradually your prose dissolves into sentence fragments.
…erm, anyway, here’s the end product. They’re not the most beautiful food I have ever prepared, but I’m pretty sure the ingredients involved compensate somehow. Also, it turns out that I may as well have consulted the Internet, because some cleverer person has already determined that wrapping raw bacon into a rose shape and baking it in a perforated muffin tin enables it to keep its structural integrity – and anyone who knows me very well at all knows that I am all about structural integrity in my food (protip: asparagus that comes in and out of the freezer is not structurally sound material). This nonsense of frying bacon and then wrapping it up with chocolate for glue and cursing the skinnier bits for having gotten too crispy is simply…nonsense. On the other hand, if there were ever a project I were willing to learn by trial and error, I’m pretty sure making chocolate-covered bacon roses is it. Dear Feast of St. Valentine: bring it on.