Trimming the Fat

It's 6 in the morning and I'm making bacon. More bacon than I have ever dared rest my eyes on at one time. I'm teaching myself to render bacon fat for the food blog I write for (not this one), which touts the philosophy that we should keep eating the way our primordial ancestors ate, which includes using all the parts of an animal, as well as finding ways to use (rather than discard) its fat.


I can't help but think, as I photograph the bacon fat in the light of a new sun that has just barely come up, how I am not a caveman, and I do not want to eat bacon, nor find uses for its fat. As I walk back to my bedroom, my clothes, my hair, and the entire bottom floor of this building stinking of fried lard, I think: Oh, Nana. And all the Nanas of the world. How did you ever handle it back then, in the 40s, 50s and 60s when bacon was such a regular and desired-after breakfast module? Daily bacon. Really?