When Mike walked in the door this evening, I had our dinner already in the oven. "Are you cooking bacon?" he asked. I told him that while it indeed was part of a pig, it was tenderloin, and not bacon. He said, "No, I think mommy's cooking bacon." Caleb, standing still while I put a band-aid on his finger said, "No, but I wish she would." Which brings me to a question I have long since pondered: what is it with men and bacon?
Growing up, my mom could never make enough bacon. Even if she cooked 2 lbs, the scene at the breakfast table would inevitably end up the same way. The bacon plate would start out piled high, and by the middle of the meal my mom was quickly scooping up the last remaining pieces of bacon for my dad (she always made sure that he got the last pieces).
Today in our house bacon is just as revered. I feel like I can never make enough. So what is this phenomenon? Are men born with an innate love of crispy swine? Or is this behaviour learned? Do fathers pass on to their sons the manliness of loving bacon? I don't know why men are such fanatics about bacon, but I do know that I will continue to make bacon for the men in my life... and plenty of it.
1 comment:
Jeff and I had a goog laugh at this post because we also realize men's fanatical love of bacon, even just the smell of bacon. I also remember Mom saving the last pieces of bacon for Dad.
Post a Comment