Bill Poteat
Want perfect bacon every time? Try baking it in the oven at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes or so. No reason to flip it at the halfway point.
Notre Dame sank Navy last Saturday night even though the Midshipmen should have been more at home on a rain-soaked football field that by the third quarter was quickly coming to resemble an ocean.
As the clock ticked past 10 p.m. (late for me), I confidently texted a friend: “Got nothing to do in the morning and nowhere to go. Not setting an alarm. I’m sleeping in. Just as long as I want.”
Next morning I’m up and awake well before dawn. So much for sleeping in. Not something old people (or at least this old person) can do very often.
But that’s OK. A morning with nothing to do and nowhere to go is even better awake than it is asleep, especially in the late autumn of the year when rising early means a chance to fully greet the arrival of the new day.
I set my coffee pot up each evening before going to bed and when I stagger from the bedroom to the kitchen, the first thing I do is punch first the “On” button and then the “Strong Brew” button.
Coffee gotta be hot, black, and strong.
Next, I turn the oven on to preheat to 400 degrees. More about that later.
With the coffee brewing and the oven heating, I turn the gas logs on in the living room and get dressed in front of them, holding each item of clothing close to the dancing flames until it grows warm and toasty.
By the time I pull my shoes on, the coffee is brewed — six cups — and I pour myself half a cup, pull on a jacket, and my faithful dog Bo and I head outside to survey the day.
Although the eastern sky is beginning to show traces of pink, the brighter stars are still sparkling and the mighty planet Jupiter shines down from directly overhead.
A note of interest: The stars of 6 a.m. on Nov. 15 will be the stars of 9 p.m. on April 15. Yes, a preview of springtime before winter even begins.
I watch Bo run in circles along the edge of the property. Sometimes he will pick up the scent or the sight of deer in the woods and will plunge off into the trees, but he never stays very long, probably because he has not yet had breakfast.
The oven is ready and waiting when I return to the kitchen and quickly layer a large roasting pan with aluminum foil and then carefully place in it nine slices of Smithfield’s Thick Cut Applewood Smoked Bacon.
Years ago, I abandoned the risky and expensive business of frying bacon in the pan or on a skillet. Too much potential for error. Too often black on the ends and raw in the middle. Forty minutes in the oven at 400 degrees and it is perfect every time.
Perfection is good. Especially when preparing bacon for my bride. She doesn’t like it limp. She doesn’t like it burned. She likes it crispy and tasty and well … perfect.
The beauty of cooking bacon in the oven? It cooks slowly and as it browns, the house is suffused with that most wonderful smell. A side benefit? The oven helps provide a comfortable warmth to the kitchen on a cold autumn morning.
As the bacon cooks, the world outside begins to brighten. Beams of low-slanting sunlight hit the tops of the trees across the way, over toward the Swink Farm. Filled with golden leaves 10 days ago, the tree limbs are bare now, standing black against a brightening blue sky.
When the bacon nears its halfway point, it’s time for the oven to also welcome half a dozen or so baking biscuits.
Nope, I don’t make them from scratch. My bride loves the Pillsbury Grands Flaky Layers. The more layers a biscuit has, she tells me, the more places to slide butter when it emerges from the oven, hot and brown.
Sometimes, my bride springs magically from the bedroom just as the bacon and biscuits are removed. Other mornings, they wait warming atop the stove for her to awaken.
Full daylight has come by the time I fry myself a couple of eggs for bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits. Before heading to the table to dig in, I take a moment to look out toward the grandeur of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the mighty Grandfather.
Who would want to sleep through such a morning?
Not this old man.
Bill Poteat is editor emeritus. He may be reached at 828-445-8595 or bill@thepaper.media.
