For some reason I woke up this morning keenly desirous of chicken-fried bacon strips. Bacon for breakfast is, of course, an American thing (the English use something horrid called "Irish Bacon" or "Canadian Bacon"), and clearly that must mean that I'm finally going native.
Expect me to put a bone through my nose soon.
The wild hinterland awaits!
Iowa!
Please imagine half a dozen extra thick rashers, first dipped in flour with salt, pepper, and a little corn starch, then slapped into beaten egg, and finally dipped into breadcrumbs and dumped into the fry-o-lator.
Served on a leaf of crisp lettuce with three all-American sauces in dippy bowls alongside: Ranch Dressing, Sriracha, and apricot jelly diluted with a little Tabasco, lime juice, and Worcestershire.
Plus celery sticks on the side, so that you can pretend it's salad and you're eating healthy. Add salsa if you still have doubts.
Sounds good.
It would make a great appetizer to a steak and lobster dinner.
With a fried egg on top.
Yummy. Deep fried. Bacon.
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