small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: unifying

Wednesday, June 27


I’m sitting in the Record Bar early Saturday evening with a few friends having some cocktails.

No one’s really there yet except for us and we’re having one of those easy conversations unique to friends in that kind of setting. We’re jumping from one subject to another talking about everything from tattoo shops to who’s sleeping with whom and so forth.

Suddenly I look up from my drink and make eye contact with the cat next to me who suddenly starts grinning. And before you know it, like some sort of airborne virus the smiles and looks jump from one person to the next and so on.

For a few minutes not only are we united by friendship but also by the aromatic scent suddenly wafting through the air.

I exclaim “BACON?” And the call is soon carried by everyone in the bar. “BACON, BACON, BACON!”

It seems that the kitchen was pre-frying up bacon for the Record Bar’s Sunday Brunch and the scent was overwhelming.

Out from the kitchen door appears one of the cooks with a single strip of hot glistening bacon on a plate.

With great flourish he lays the plate before one of the bartenders and we watch with joy and some envy as she snacks it down with a satisfying smack of her red lips.

It’s amazing how a simple meat from the back and sides of a hog that has been salted, dried, and often smoked, being fried dregs up so many fond memories.

Breakfast with the family and my mother in the kitchen, days off on a cold winter morning watching nothing on the TV, and of course a serious hankering for a BLT.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


Anonymous scooterj said...

Oh man... I was at a bar once (can't remember where) where a fry cook started pre-frying a bunch of bacon for some reason. It was heavenly.

4:08 PM  
Blogger satyavati said...

Of all the things I had to give up being a vegetarian, bacon was the absolute hardest. And I have never found a really decent substitute.

4:34 PM  
Blogger Nightmare said...


5:45 PM  
Anonymous idan said...


I dig your writing. Great blog. I will be back.

9:21 PM  
Anonymous idan said...

I should mention you really make me chuckle... and not many people do that. You have a great perspective on shit. And not only shit but life too. ;)

9:23 PM  
Blogger Xavier Onassis said...

On a similar nasal note, I have only one fond memory of all of the young years when my parents tried to raise me up like a Good Christian.

Going to the Evangelical United Brethren church on Sunday mornings in Coffeyville, Kansas.

Because it was right across the fucking street from the Bunny Bread bakery! MMM, mmm, mmm. Lord have mercy!

If there is a Heaven, it smells like fresh baked bread in the oven and sizzling bacon in the pan.

8:41 PM  

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