This past weekend, I participated in one of the most gluttonous experiences of my life, and so completely worth it and even better than the time I practically devoured an entire chocolate cake…but that’s another story all together.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Baconstock ’09: one night of complete bacon debauchery. Porkapalozza and Pigtopia were runners up in the title race, but we decided that adding the “stock” was the strongest contender and the best way to convey the potential awesomeness of the event.

And it surely delivered. After a few nights/slow work afternoons of searching the internets for inspiration, we planned a sort of tasting menu around the wonderful, fantastical pork product, and after short stop at the grocery store, got down to work. I forgot to jot down portion sizes for the ingredients, so we eyeballed pretty much everything, but overall, the ingredients, tools and baking techniques required were pretty simple.

After much deliberation, and a few beers, we decided that the winner of the night was the Trifecta Cookie: a mix of chocolate, peanut butter, and bacon, a combination born out of some indecisiveness between making a chocolate chip bacon cookie recipe, or a peanut butter cookie recipe. Believing that all three ingredients taste good enough on their own, we dared to combine all three into a holy trinity that blew our minds. If only this theory applied to more situations in life.

Mission:

To celebrate the glorious existence of the salty, smoked meat by eating it.

Rule #1:

No burning of ingredients.

Rule #2:

Bacon must be used in each recipe, and incorporated in each bite.

Rule #3:

More rules may be made as necessary, especially if beer or bourbon becomes involved.

Menu:

Appetizer: Bacon-wrapped Bananas

Entrée: Inside-Out BLTs

Dessert: Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chip, and Bacon Cookies

We. Did. Good.

Plus, this is all even funnier by this Jim Gaffigan clip:

Wow. It’s been over a month since I’ve clicked the “Add New Post” on this blog. Sorry, all!

I could make some excuses, but I’ll spare the details and just get right back down to business.

The next few posts will be some of my columns from Hoboken Progress, which I also failed to post during my spontaneous hiatus from the blogosphere.

It’s been quite the morning. Currently, it’s right before 8:30 am. I spent the night at my parent’s house, and took the train into the city with the Dad. A 5:17 am train. Yep. I awoke at 4:55 AM, pulled on my clothes, grabbed my bags (and my lunch from the fridge) and somehow I blinked and was on the train, only to pass out again until my Dad elbowed me in Penn Station.

It had already been decided that a large Dunkin Donuts was in my future last night, so caffeine was just starting to filter into my veins around 6:30 am. Upon approaching my office, I realized that my apartment keys, which I left in Hoboken, a delightful fact brought to my attention by my roommates, also houses my office key. FAIL. I waited 40 minutes in the hallway, my bags sitting around me, with my back against the wall to wait for the guy with a key. I was afraid to fall asleep in fear that someone would think that I had been squatting in the hallway all weekend.

FINALLY, finally, I was let in. Pandora blasting, lights off except for the glow of my computer, I’m celebrating Monday morning with a new blog post, fueled by my large DD, which I am just starting to feel the effects of.

The sun came up slowly this morning, but, if anything, I love an AM where I can wake up peacefully, slowly, and productively at my desk.

Here’s one to get the party started:

Still Working It Out

You must forgive me for what I am about to quote, but as a single, 25 year-old, independent female, it would be a bold-faced lie to say that I never reference Sex and the City. In one particular episode, as Carrie Bradshaw is whining about being lonely, (I still love you Carrie) she says that in New York, as a woman, you can have a great job, a great apartment and a great man, but never all at the same time. Apparently, it’s always two out of three, and even if the two you’ve got are top-notch, the missing third will still make you want to hyperventilate in a Duane Reade bag. Continue reading →