Even your morning coffee is not safe from bacon

I was a bacon innocent when I began writing for Fat City. It was not that I had failed to eat my share of the griddle sticks, but rather I met each and every new bacon invention with the wonder of a child discovering Santa’s greasy breakfast had been left for him.

Today I sit here like a grizzled veteran, believing that our obsession with bacon is taking the place of legitimate culinary inspiration. I’m not surprised to see bacon appear on any menu, just slightly disappointed. And then somebody had to go and mess with my morning coffee.