Whenever I smell bacon cooking, I always think of a fun Tribe trip many years ago. My friend is from Yellville, Arkansas and every year the town celebrates Turkey Trot, a weekend full of activities that are the best of a small town - a parade, a beauty pageant, and a turkey calling contest. This weekend is the stuff of legends so the Tribe all traveled across the border to experience the festivities first hand.
As with any Tribe gathering, there is always so much good food. We divided up the cooking chores and I made my chilaquiles for breakfast one day and along with the chilaquiles, you have to have bacon. Well, I cooked a whole pound of it in the microwave. I don't know how many batches I made; everyone was really enjoying it so I just kept cooking it. Everyone except the one vegetarian in the group. Poor Mercedes, she was trapped in the house with the smells of delicious pork wafting through the air. We tried open the doors to the house to fill her lungs with non-baconated oxygen but it wasn't too successful. She was such a good sport about it but I still felt bad. Especially when I saw what cooking a pound of bacon does to the inside of a microwave.
Ah, those were the days. When the whole Tribe lived in practically the same zip code. Now we are scattered way too many miles apart. So I truly welcome those fond memories brought on by the smell of cooking bacon.
As with any Tribe gathering, there is always so much good food. We divided up the cooking chores and I made my chilaquiles for breakfast one day and along with the chilaquiles, you have to have bacon. Well, I cooked a whole pound of it in the microwave. I don't know how many batches I made; everyone was really enjoying it so I just kept cooking it. Everyone except the one vegetarian in the group. Poor Mercedes, she was trapped in the house with the smells of delicious pork wafting through the air. We tried open the doors to the house to fill her lungs with non-baconated oxygen but it wasn't too successful. She was such a good sport about it but I still felt bad. Especially when I saw what cooking a pound of bacon does to the inside of a microwave.
Ah, those were the days. When the whole Tribe lived in practically the same zip code. Now we are scattered way too many miles apart. So I truly welcome those fond memories brought on by the smell of cooking bacon.
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