Last night I thought I'd make Grahm some delicious brinner (breakfast for dinner) cause that kid loves pancakes more than his delightful wife (only half true). This is funny because he's skinnier than a rail (seriously, there's no differentiation between his thigh and his calf). The fluffy goodness of pancakes doesn't go to his fluffy parts (because he doesn't have any) like it does with me. So I try to limit the number of pancakes and bacon I make in our household.
Confession time: I do this mainly because... I really struggle with making
Now we all know from past POSTS that I'm a class act when it comes to serving up meals. It's like I have the golden touch when a whisk (I own no such thing) is in my hand. Delectableness effortlessly pops out of my oven every night. (I sit on a throne of lies, my friends.)
But bacon is deceitful.
Everyone likes bacon so you're easily swayed in the grocery store to buy it. You whip it out of the fridge thinking, "Oh, I'll just throw this on the stove and call it delicious."
Here's the problem. Grahm likes his bacon crispy ("Babe I just wanna know the pig's dead when I eat it.") not chewy like me. And crispy bacon is infinitely more difficult to cook.
There's a terrifying line of burning the pig and it comin' out with the perfect crunch factor. I decided last night that I'll never be able to master it. I tried looking for the "signs" that it was ready to come out of the greasy pan, but I got distracted with flipping the pancakes.
Let's just say I tangoed with the line of burnt or perfectly crispy, and I tangoed too long. The meat started curling into a blackened mess to a point where the bacon was no longer recognizable.
"Babe what are you doing!?"
"WAHHHHH. I'm trying to make delicious bacon but it's SOOO hard!"
He still ate the few edible pieces I was somehow able to save from a greasy death, even pretendeding to like it the cardboard-like meat. (I tell ya, I picked a winner.)
I thought the night was over and I couldn't possibly embarrass myself anymore...
but then I make or may not have poured bacon grease down the drain, which (according to Grahm) you're not supposed to do.
So needless to say, the Roaches will not be partaking in brinner anytime soon. Darn you, pigs.