I love the smell and sound of bacon frying on the stove. It evokes such memoires and entices my senses.
Its smell used to wake me in the morning before school. Mom fried it for our breakfast, sometimes we just had time to snatch a few slices as we headed out the door.
Early summer mornings on the farm the smell brought us from our slumber as grandma fried a pan full for grandpa and us before we headed out the door for chores.
Grandma’s was the best. It was homegrown and fresh off the farm. Every morning we were greeted with the salty crisp smell and grandma’s question of “one egg or two?” They were fresh and homegrown too.
Sometimes the memory comes from bacon in the evening. There is nothing better than pancakes and bacon on a winter’s evening for a cozy supper.
Bacon makes me happy beside eggs, with pancakes, on toast with tomatoes and lettuce, or just in my hand, one slice at a time.
Guess what’s for supper tonight?