Makin' bacon... butter. Bacon butter.

You heard me. Bacon. Butter.

Sometimes, my mind wanders to mysterious places. For absolutely no logical reason, I decided two weeks ago that saving bacon grease was essential to my culinary life's continued success. 

At the time of this ingenious idea's inception, I wasn't even cooking bacon. In fact, I was sitting on my couch, staring blankly at my living room wall thinking, "Laura, you need more hobbies."

Saving bacon grease is what I came up with.

So I promptly headed to the store, purchased the largest package of sliced pork belly they offered and began this very exciting and healthy new chapter of my life.

I really don't cook bacon on a regular basis. In fact, two weeks ago may have been the first time I had cooked bacon in over a year. I'm more of a beef-for-breakfast kind of girl.

Makin' bacon hurts when you're an impatient soul. It's hard to resist staring directly and closely at whatever item is sizzling on your stove top, mentally willing it to cook faster, when it smells as good as bacon.

Sizzling bacon punishes that behavior by slinging fiery grease on your skin while it cooks. Ouch. 

But if you are patient and cook the bacon slowly, it yields the most precious results. Perfectly crisp but not too-crunchy strips of deliciousness.

But that's not the point. This stuff is the point. Let as much of that liquid gold drain off each strip as you remove it from the pan.

Then let it cool. You do not want to handle bacon grease while it is still sizzling. Again: ouch.

In the meantime, enjoy the byproduct of this activity with tomatoes from your neighbor's garden (Thanks, neighbor Bob!), fresh lettuce and a Panera asiago cheese bagel.   

When this endeavour began, I really thought the idea of cooking with bacon grease was limited to farm-house grannies, which I think is why it appealed to me. Any other 24-year-old out there daydream about how awesome it would be to a pre-maturely matronly granny? No? Me neither.

But it turns out, a lot of very normal, young, hip people still use this as their "secret ingredient" for great cooking. I met one last week on a business trip. I'm not sure how my conversation with this very stylish, big-city pharmaceutical marketer from New Jersey led to bacon grease, but I think it might have gone something like this:

Her: "Know what I love almost as much as beef? Bacon."

Me: "Me. TOO. Mostly due to a recent obsession with finding recipes that involve adding extra awesomeness via saved bacon grease."

Her: "Me. TOO. I don't tell my husband. He just thinks I'm a really great cook. He has no idea it's the bacon grease talking.

Insta-friends. Just add bacon grease.

She taught me this. Once the grease has cooled to room temperature, don't just plop it in a regular ol' mason jar.

Ladle it into an ice cube tray. Freeze it. Then it lasts much longer, and it's conveniently portioned out. Because we agreed that it's not about WHAT you eat, it's about how much you eat. This is my kind of portion control.

That's my healthy eating mantra, and I'm sticking to it. 

I'm yet to actually utilize my little stockpile of bacon butter in any cooking. The tray isn't full yet, and it just doesn't seem right to take any away until I have a full stock saved up.

But I'm getting closer. One B.L.T. sandwich at a time.

I'm three sandwiches away from a full tray. Then the fun will begin.

I can't wait to pan-sear a steak in bacon grease. Or add a bit to my mashed potato mix. Or to grease a pan before making cornbread. Or to whip into homemade biscuits. Or to season green beans. 

What do you use bacon grease in/for? Any other tips/ideas?



In the kitchen with 'tader salad

Welcome back to my kitchen. It's been a little sad and lonely lately. I've been spending too much time at Quiznos, the Lean Cuisine isle and truck stops, and my kitchen is starting to feel neglected. I'm sorry, kitchen.

Moving on.

Let me preface this post: I don't really like potato salad. I am, however, a big Ron White fan. Thanks to Hollywood Video's recent demise, I just got to add "They call me 'Tader Salad" to my collection for $3. I've wanted some 'tader salad ever since.

The one potato salad I have ever liked was found in south-central Kansas, at the home of the parents of an ex-boyfriend. His sweet mamma was kind enough to give me the recipe, so here it is:

If you can imagine, it starts with 'taders. Lots of them. Eight cups to be exact.

Then you boil them. Now, there were a couple parts of this recipe I was pretty excited about -- one of them being the fact that I finally had a reason to use the enormous cauldron I bought this winter. I bought it because it was pretty and matched the rest of my pots.

Surely, this will not be a waste of $30. I need a cauldron this big. It's perfect and red and pretty.

Since then, every time I have dug through my cabinets and cursed this enormous pot for taking up so much space, I have doubted the logic I used that day. Doubt no more... this pot was worth the purchase.

While the 'taders were boiling, I started assembling the dressing. This is why I am weary of potato salad... the things that go into the dressing have no appeal to me. Mustard? Gross. Vinegar? Gross. Condensed milk? Gross.

 Put it all together? Not gross. Good, in fact. I guess I'll put this in the same category as tomato juice and vodka: separately, they are gross. Together in a perfectly spicy bloody Mary? Delicious.

This is a combination of a 1/2 cup of sugar, 1/3 cup evaporated milk, 1/8 cup vinegar, 1 tsp. mustard and salt. Sounds gross, looks gross, smell gross. Tastes good. I can't explain it.

You'll also need to hard-boil four eggs. Then run cold water over the eggs and the 'taders to cool them.

This is the second fun part of the recipe. I really love peeling hard-boiled eggs. I don't know why; I just think its neat how they crackle and like the feel of the little shred of shell peeling off. I know, I need more hobbies... but peeling hard-boiled eggs is just a good time in my book.

THEN, I got to use this fun little egg-cutter. It's another kitchen appliance I bought because it was red and pretty and matched my kitchen. I've owned it for more than a year, and this was it's original cooking debut. Are you noticing a pattern? Yes, I am a little financially irresponsible.

 But how fun is this?! Three little presses, and the eggies were completely and perfectly sliced and diced. I don't care who you are, that's a good time.

 Throw it all in a big ol' bowl with 1/2 cup each of chopped onions and sweet pickle relish, and she-ZAM: 'Tader salad is born.

So here's to hoping the 'tader salad turns out better for the party guests than the relationship did for that boy... and to hopes that the party it is being made for doesn't turn out like a Ron "Tader Salad" White story.

America's Future

This is something I worry about. A lot. Seriously, it keeps me up at night.

Has the society we live in completely lost touch with the ideals of past generations? Will the generation after mine even know about World War II and the Depression, or the significance those events had on the world? How will they, when the generation of my grandparents is gone? Who will tell those stories? Will our society as a whole ever grasp the concept of personal responsibility and stop blaming schools, the government, food and the media for all their problems? In another generation, will anyone understand the importance of physical labor and blue-collared workers? 

Aren't I an odd little 22-year-old? These are the things Stones and I think about in our free time.

These worries have only been intensified by reading the book The Greatest Generation. Sometimes Tom Brokaw gets a little liberal for my taste in the political ideals he draws in the book, but the story-telling is extraordinary. It confirms that there is no doubt in my mind that the generation of my grandparents is, in fact, the greatest generation this society has ever produced. And it makes me wonder – if that generation is now nearly in extinction, what does the future of America hold?

Turns out, Mike Rowe seems to worry about the same thing.

Ok, maybe not the exact same things, but it seems he worries about the general direction our society is heading in – that being a direction where people are scared of working hard and expect a lot of hand outs.

If you don’t know who Mike Rowe is, please crawl out from whatever rock you are living under and become familiar. He is the host of the Discovery Channel’s “Dirty Jobs.” He’s a champion for hard workers, blue-collared values and patriotism.

Read his recent blog post, What is in America’s Future? Oh ya, and then watch this video:



Then put my name under it with a big “ditto.” If you didn't love Mike Rowe before today, you will.

PS – Please note: I am not an eternal pessimist and think our country is really headed to ruin. I think we live in the greatest country in the world. And I'm a pretty happy-go-lucky gal. I just worry. A lot. Again, this is why I think I need more hobbies.

Something to fill the gaps...

I always say I need a hobby.

Ever since I graduated college last May, I've felt like there is an awful lot of extra "space" in my life. Certainly not literal space, since I am the world's worse pack-rat. But "space," as in, if my life were a pie chart, there would be a big section of "work," then a healthy slice of "talk on the phone to friends from home," a sliver of "Netflix," a VERY small morsel of "social interaction" (when my co-workers hang out with me or friends from home visit), and then a great big chunk that seems empty, save sitting on the couch with Stones.

I attribute that big empty spot in my pie chart to moving. After graduating college, I moved to Manhattan, Kansas for my job. Six months later, I moved to Ohio for my job. Needless to say, I've been a bit unsettled lately. I spend a lot of time in my pajamas, wandering around my house, wasting time until the next day comes around. This is not like me at all. And I don't think it's healthy.

So, I'm out to find a hobby. I think "hobby" is probably not the proper descriptor for what I'm looking for, but it's all I can think of. I need a fulfiller. An activity that inspires me. Something that does not pertain directly to my job. Something that makes me change out of my pajamas on the weekends.

I need to be held accountable for giving finding that "something" an honest attempt. Hence the blog. Surely there are cyber-police out there who will call me out if I do not follow up on something I told the cyber world I would do, right? Right.

So, this is what the cyber police of blogging shall keep me accountable for: Each week of this new year, I will force myself to experience or try something new. I have a horrible habit of hating things that are "new." (With the exception of new merchandise, of course, which is something I'm also suppose to be cutting back on.) I like to stay in my house, in my pajamas, with my cat. That's easy. Moving to a new place a thousand miles from home is hard. Making new friends in a new place is even harder. Finding things that I enjoy and that fulfill me in a new place is nearly impossible.

So, I'll trail through all the things I know I love -- as described in the oh-so-thoughtful "about me" section -- and some things I don't know about until I find the perfect combination of new and old loves that will complete my "life pie chart." You can come. It will be fun. And hopefully, at the end, there will be real pie. Lots of it.