monday grumps: bacon fat bourbon
13/09/2010 § Leave a comment
In a glass jar on top of the fridge an inch of bacon fat awaits its purpose. It does not know what it will be used for, but slowly gathering form it knows it can serve someone use for something. It takes times, sometimes days, sometimes weeks, to reach its proportions. For days, sometimes months, it idles white and thick in its transparent container.
When someone glances at it, he is revolted but simultaneously craves the meat that it once was a part of. He thinks of sizzling and salt and the film of grease that coats his lips and stomach. He feels guilty for such desires. To him, the public display of part sludge-part animal is confusing. It has no aesthetic, but it does have purpose. Why it is not hidden in the cupboard, behind thick wooden doors and silver handles, is beyond understanding.
When enough fat has congealed and accumulated, someone will add it to a bottle of bourbon. Together the fat and the bourbon will dance in a broken down barn with the sound of harmonicas and fiddles, mounds of hay dusting the air through yellow and orange glows that come from the lamps that mechanics use to look at the underbellies of cars, the ones that have hooks and a cage to protect you from the heat. For days, sometimes weeks, they will roll together and share each others strengths in the moments spent in each others’ embraces, he bringing the smoke, she bringing the salt.
One day, their time together will have happened just so and someone will tip their world upside down, placing them in a deep freeze. The fat will rise to the top and congeal, once again, while the heat of the bourbon will keep free flowing. The bourbon will be emptied back into its bottle and the fat will be melted and put into its glass jar. The bourbon now tastes salty. It creates a velvet envelope around your tongue and will be added to cocktails to be sipped over good conversations and cigarettes. The bacon fat now smells smoky. It will wait on top of the fridge to be used for drop-cookies that will be eaten with teas and coffee. Both serve different purposes, yet both are enriched from their time spent together.
If they spent any more time together, they would have become too rich or too sour.
This should never be hidden.