Bacon is dead! Long live bacon!

It's trendy now, but will hype and gimmickry (bacon cocktails, anyone?) spoil the great salty meat?


Bacon is dead! Long live bacon!

I had my “what accursed and ungodly form will bacon take next?” moment a few years ago, when a little plastic bottle of zero-calorie bacon-flavored spray emblazoned with the likeness of David Burke, a chef with fading culinary credentials and a passion for gimmickry, found its way into my life.

Curious about the possibilities of such a concoction, I doused a carrot in it and proffered it to my chubby little dog, whom the vet had recently advised we start slimming by substituting veggies for his usual treats. He sniffed at it, eyed me suspiciously, and dropped it from his snaggle-toothed maw. It wasn’t the last time my dog ate carrots, but if there were a threat that one out of every few would smell like burned electrical tape and taste worse, I’d start picking and choosing, too.

That bacon spray is the embodiment of what bugs me about bacon these days, like a physical incarnation of the trite pro-bacon blanket sentiments that people rarely seem to express about other meats. (Ever heard anybody say, “Everything tastes better with goat?” Exactly.)

Of course I understand where it comes from. Bacon is fatty. Bacon is salty. Bacon’s appeal is primal. Bacon is about bombast, not subtlety. If William Carlos Williams had written that poem about bacon instead of plums, I don’t think it would have resonated the same way.

But it seems that bacon is infringing on more and more of our — or at least my — lives these days. Out drinking at 3 a.m. a few months ago in Portland, Ore., a friend went foraging for sustenance and came back from Voodoo Doughnut with a box of maple doughnuts topped with strips of bacon. As I type, there is a full-color, bacon-shaped band-aid around my left index finger, because I cut myself the other day and the only bandages I had in my apartment were a gag parting gift from a bacon party a friend recently threw. (So I am, technically, part of the problem. And I guess ruminations like this and Sarah Hepola’s essay from Day One of Pork Week are as well. But I digress.)

I reached out to the bacontelligentsia to try to pinpoint where we are in the bacon bonanza, to find out if bacon is going boom or bust in the near future, to see if there’s relief from or more fervent bacon mania on the horizon.

For Ari Weinzweig, the co-founder of Zingerman’s, an upscale deli and mail-order food business in Ann Arbor, Mich., the answer is boom. He wrote (in the current issue of his very literate monthly newsletter), “If you were to ask me next what single ingredient is going to alter American cooking in the next decade as olive oil did in the last, I’d put big bucks on bacon.”

He has reason to be enthusiastic: Zingerman’s started a monthly mail-order bacon delivery service two years ago that attracted 20 times more subscribers in year two than in year one; Mr. Weinzweig is also currently at work on a book about bacon.

The Grateful Palate‘s Bacon of the Month Club — the granddaddy of sticking smoked meat in your mailbox — currently counts more than 5,000 members. Dan Phillips, the man behind the operation, told me, when I asked about what was happening with bacon, “I resist the attempt to turn bacon into another fashion or another food trend. Bacon is bacon.”

He added, “There is nothing in the universe more exciting than a piece of bacon.” His all-bacon all-the-time shtick makes his chosen moniker, Captain Bacon, stick like cheap bacon to an underseasoned cast iron pan.

Mr. Weinzweig, who only recently began his descent into baconphilia, wrote that he’s found that “The depth, character and complexity of great bacon are enough to take an already affirmed bacon love to ever-greater heights of consumption.” On a recent visit to Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Hams in Madisonville, Tenn., I chatted with Allan Benton, whose country bacon is like a smoky porcine grail meat to the bacon obsessed, and found that his story at least anecdotally affirmed Mr. Weinzweig’s connection between great bacon and increased consumption.

Not five years ago, Mr. Benton, a slender man in his 60s with wide blue eyes and a demeanor and manner so gracious he makes Jimmy Carter seem like a thug, says he used to lie awake at nights, troubled over a troubled bottom line, wondering whether to get out of the ham and bacon business that he’d been working at for the last 30 years. Right at that time, fancy chefs around the country discovered his products and started buying enough of them — especially his bacon — that he’s now looking to add an additional curing room and possibly expand his smokehouse.

But Mr. Benton’s operation — a one-story cinderblock building by the side of a sleepy, four-lane stretch of Highway 411 in Tennessee — is a small one, and great bacon like his is a minor, if not tiny, part of the $2 billion-a-year bacon business in the United States.

In the world of Big Bacon, the boom isn’t in upscale bacon products, like thick-cut or applewood-smoked bacons, but in convenience and in putting bacon where it hasn’t been before.

The best example for the latter trend isn’t bacon salt or bacon mints or bacon-scented candles — sorry, baconpreneurs — but in burgers. Wendy’s Baconator — a cheeseburger that includes six strips of bacon between the buns (as well as two kinds of cheese, mayo and more) — was introduced in mid-2007 and is partly responsible for the wave of bacon-accented dishes flooding similar food service operations around the country. Why? Because Wendy’s sold 68 million of those 840-calorie burgers in the first eight months they were on the menu. That’s what sticking bacon in the right place can do.

Then there’s the booming, newfangled bacon biz, which includes non-bacon but bacon-related things, like easier-to-seal bacon pouches and other packaging “innovations” that are the source of no small amount of excitement to meat companies or, apparently, to supermarket shoppers. Numbers say they help get the bacon in the shopping basket.

And precooked bacon — as in microwaved at a factory in North Carolina or Arkansas or Missouri days or weeks before it’s purchased — is big news and bigger business. Smithfield Foods, the nation’s largest pig killing-and-curing operation, reported “double-digit growth” in its precooked bacon business even during a lackluster year last year.

It’s hard to find anyone in the commodity meat business eager to say that uncooked bacon is slumping outside of the fast food market, but there’s enough incidental evidence (like the excitement over new packaging and precooked bacon) and market evidence — the price of pork bellies has limped along over the last decade, even as things like bacon band-aids have made it onto our fingers — to indicate that that is the case. Still, whether we’re frying it at home or getting it from the drive-through, the National Pork Board’s statistics show that per capita, bacon consumption has been remarkably steady over at least the last decade, at about 18 “eatings” per person per annum.

Last summer, New York magazine’s food blog, Grub Street, commented that the arrival of a packaged product called bacon salt was the sign that bacon, as a foodstuff, had finally jumped the shark, that it had finally strayed into a new and unseemly level of self-parody, that it was being touted as much for its ironic or comic value (insert Homer Simpson slobbering sound here) as its flavor.

But after a few months passed, there it was again: bacon where it shouldn’t be. It was in a cocktail, in a recipe for bacon-infused bourbon, right there in the pages of New York. Wasn’t it supposed to be over?

The original charge missed the point, as did my hope of pinpointing a spot on the horizon when baconmania would shrink from our national consciousness like it does in a hot pan.

No amount of shark jumping will ever tank bacon’s status, because bacon is the Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli of the meat world. Personified, it would be Henry Winkler, not James Dean: popular but not quite cool; desirable but not unattainable; not bland but not challenging. It’s not dangerous at all to like bacon or the Fonz; it’s a family-friendly pose but it’s not as vanilla as pulling for Ron Howard, who would almost certainly be the skinless chicken breast of the “Happy Days” universe.

And as the Fonz did on “Happy Days,” bacon can jump the shark literally and still not land in the same also-ran, has-been pile as, say, blackened redfish or unironic fondue or, though I’m sad to predict it, bacon’s noble relative from the face of the pig, guanciale, will someday. The Fonz was an outsider scrubbed and designed to appeal to the masses; bacon is safe, institutionalized rebellion on a plate.

It is at once trend-proof and trend-prone. Bacon always seems to be on the cusp. On the verge. Suited up in a black leather jacket and blue swim trunks, ready to ham it up and make the jump. I guess Captain Bacon had it right: Bacon is bacon. Long may it sizzle.

Peter Meehan writes about food and drink and lives in New York. He is the former "$25 and Under" columnist for the New York Times.

Featured Slide Shows

  • Share on Twitter
  • Share on Facebook
  • 1 of 11
  • Close
  • Fullscreen
  • Thumbnails

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Beautiful Darkness by Fabien Vehlmann & Kerascoët
    Kerascoët's lovely, delicate pen-and-watercolor art -- all intricate botanicals, big eyes and flowing hair -- gives this fairy story a deceptively pretty finish. You find out quickly, however, that these are the heartless and heedless fairies of folk legend, not the sentimental sprites beloved by the Victorians and Disney fans. A host of tiny hominid creatures must learn to survive in the forest after fleeing their former home -- a little girl who lies dead in the woods. The main character, Aurora, tries to organize the group into a community, but most of her cohort is too capricious, lazy and selfish to participate for long. There's no real moral to this story, which is refreshing in itself, beyond the perpetual lessons that life is hard and you have to be careful whom you trust. Never has ugly truth been given a prettier face.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Climate Changed: A Personal Journey Through the Science by Philippe Squarzoni
    Squarzoni is a French cartoonist who makes nonfiction graphic novels about contemporary issues and politics. While finishing up a book about France under Jacques Chirac, he realized that when it came to environmental policy, he didn't know what he was talking about. "Climate Changed" is the result of his efforts to understand what has been happening to the planet, a striking combination of memoir and data that ruminates on a notoriously elusive, difficult and even imponderable subject. Panels of talking heads dispensing information (or Squarzoni discussing the issues with his partner) are juxtaposed with detailed and meticulous yet lyrical scenes from the author's childhood, the countryside where he takes a holiday and a visit to New York. He uses his own unreachable past as a way to grasp the imminent transformation of the Earth. The result is both enlightening and unexpectedly moving.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Here by Richard McGuire
    A six-page version of this innovative work by a regular contributor to the New Yorker first appeared in RAW magazine 25 years ago. Each two-page spread depicts a single place, sometimes occupied by a corner of a room, over the course of 4 billion years. The oldest image is a blur of pink and purple gases; others depict hazmat-suited explorers from 300 years in the future. Inset images show the changing decor and inhabitants of the house throughout its existence: family photos, quarrels, kids in Halloween costumes, a woman reading a book, a cat walking across the floor. The cumulative effect is serene and ravishing, an intimation of the immensity of time and the wonder embodied in the humblest things.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Kill My Mother by Jules Feiffer
    The legendary Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist delivers his debut graphic novel at 85, a deliriously over-the-top blend of classic movie noir and melodrama that roams from chiaroscuro Bay City to Hollywood to a USO gig in the Pacific theater of World War II. There's a burnt-out drunk of a private eye, but the story is soon commandeered by a multigenerational collection of ferocious women, including a mysterious chanteuse who never speaks, a radio comedy writer who makes a childhood friend the butt of a hit series and a ruthless dame intent on making her whiny coward of a husband into a star. There are disguises, musical numbers and plenty of gunfights, but the drawing is the main attraction. Nobody convey's bodies in motion more thrillingly than Feiffer, whether they're dancing, running or duking it out. The kid has promise.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    The Motherless Oven by Rob Davis
    This is a weird one, but in the nervy surreal way that word-playful novels like "A Clockwork Orange" or "Ulysses" are weird. The main character, a teenage schoolboy named Scarper Lee, lives in a world where it rains knives and people make their own parents, contraptions that can be anything from a tiny figurine stashable in a pocket to biomorphic boiler-like entities that seem to have escaped from Dr. Seuss' nightmares. Their homes are crammed with gadgets they call gods and instead of TV they watch a hulu-hoop-size wheel of repeating images that changes with the day of the week. They also know their own "death day," and Scarper's is coming up fast. Maybe that's why he runs off with the new girl at school, a real troublemaker, and the obscurely dysfunctional Castro, whose mother is a cageful of talking parakeets. A solid towline of teenage angst holds this manically inventive vision together, and proves that some graphic novels can rival the text-only kind at their own game.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    NOBROW 9: It's Oh So Quiet
    For each issue, the anthology magazine put out by this adventurous U.K.-based publisher of independent graphic design, illustration and comics gives 45 artists a four-color palette and a theme. In the ninth issue, the theme is silence, and the results are magnificent and full of surprises. The comics, each told in images only, range from atmospheric to trippy to jokey to melancholy to epic to creepy. But the two-page illustrations are even more powerful, even if it's not always easy to see how they pertain to the overall concept of silence. Well, except perhaps for the fact that so many of them left me utterly dumbstruck with visual delight.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Over Easy by Mimi Pond
    When Pond was a broke art student in the 1970s, she took a job at a neighborhood breakfast spot in Oakland, a place with good food, splendid coffee and an endlessly entertaining crew of short-order cooks, waitresses, dishwashers and regular customers. This graphic memoir, influenced by the work of Pond's friend, Alison Bechdel, captures the funky ethos of the time, when hippies, punks and disco aficionados mingled in a Bay Area at the height of its eccentricity. The staff of the Imperial Cafe were forever swapping wisecracks and hopping in and out of each other's beds, which makes them more or less like every restaurant team in history. There's an intoxicating esprit de corps to a well-run everyday joint like the Imperial Cafe, and never has the delight in being part of it been more winningly portrayed.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    The Shadow Hero by Gene Luen Yang and Sonny Liew
    You don't have to be a superhero fan to be utterly charmed by Yang and Liew's revival of a little-known character created in the 1940s by the cartoonist Chu Hing. This version of the Green Turtle, however, is rich in characterization, comedy and luscious period detail from the Chinatown of "San Incendio" (a ringer for San Francisco). Hank, son of a mild-mannered grocer, would like to follow in his father's footsteps, but his restless mother (the book's best character and drawn with masterful nuance by Liew) has other ideas after her thrilling encounter with a superhero. Yang's story effortlessly folds pathos into humor without stooping to either slapstick or cheap "darkness." This is that rare tribute that far surpasses the thing it celebrates.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Shoplifter by Michael Cho
    Corinna Park, former English major, works, unhappily, in a Toronto advertising agency. When the dissatisfaction of the past five years begins to oppress her, she lets off steam by pilfering magazines from a local convenience store. Cho's moody character study is as much about city life as it is about Corinna. He depicts her falling asleep in front of the TV in her condo, brooding on the subway, roaming the crowded streets after a budding romance goes awry. Like a great short story, this is a simple tale of a young woman figuring out how to get her life back, but if feels as if it contains so much of contemporary existence -- its comforts, its loneliness, its self-deceptions -- suspended in wintery amber.

    Ten spectacular graphic novels from 2014

    Through the Woods by Emily Carroll
    This collection of archetypal horror, fairy and ghost stories, all about young girls, comes lushly decked in Carroll's inky black, snowy white and blood-scarlet art. A young bride hears her predecessor's bones singing from under the floorboards, two friends make the mistake of pretending to summon the spirits of the dead, a family of orphaned siblings disappears one by one into the winter nights. Carroll's color-saturated images can be jagged, ornate and gruesome, but she also knows how to chill with absence, shadows and a single staring eye. Literary readers who cherish the work of Kelly Link or the late Angela Carter's collection, "The Bloody Chamber," will adore the violent beauty on these pages.

  • Recent Slide Shows



Comment Preview

Your name will appear as username ( settings | log out )

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href=""> <b> <em> <strong> <i> <blockquote>