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Bacon Quotes

Browse 40 quotes about Bacon.

Bacon Quotes

“All good intellects have repeated, since Bacon’s time, that there can be no real knowledge but that which is based on observed facts. This is incontestable, in our present advanced stage; but, if we look back to the primitive stage of human knowledge, we shall see that it must have been otherwise then. If it is true that every theory must be based upon observed facts, it is equally true that facts cannot be observed without the guidance of some theory. Without such guidance, our facts would be desultory and fruitless; we could not retain them: for the most part we could not even perceive them.”

“America, I know we have our problems. I realize that the scale and our waistline are foremost among them. I’m willing to make concessions, I really am. I drink, and prefer, skim milk. I’ll take water packed tuna over oil packed tuna any day. I can stomach low-fat ranch or I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Anything. I’ll even look the other way on sugar free ice cream (believe me that one hurts), but I’ll be darned if I’m gonna let somebody take my delicious delicious pig fat from me. I’d rather die.”

“When listening to the lightning storms in your area on a standard AM radio, you will hear a sound like bacon frying and this is the electromagnetic energy that the storm is generating. Plants react to this energy and may show vigorous growth during lightning seasons.”

“Liam's hash brown casserole can only be described as so over-the-top ridiculous I fear Paula Deen is sitting somewhere cackling about it. I can tell that there is cheese, butter, and sour cream in there, and do not want to know what else. It is delicious, as are the perfectly dried eggs, crispy bacon, buttery toast, and juicy sausages. The muffins are banana chocolate chip, otherwise known as breakfast cake.”

“The first sentence of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s that reached me still jolts me every time I run into it. “Meek young men,” he wrote in “The American Scholar,” “grow up in libraries believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote those books…”

“Just a little bit of bitter spinach... ... isn't nearly enough to explain that gushing riptide of savory salmon flavor! "You're right. There is another trick to it. When I made the crepe, I added both spinach... ... and this spice mix to it." "A SPICE MIX?!" Spice mixes, also called seasoning mixes or spice blends, are original mixes of herbs, seasonings, salt and pepper. Infinitely adjustable, spice mixes are the ultimate in seasoning, usable in just about every situation. "Spices!" "My mix uses salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, garlic... ... and dried bacon powder.”

“WHOA! Now that's some thick-cut bacon!" "Oh my gosh! Look! The top of it is gleaming! Just looking at it is making me hungry..." "Wait a minute. If he's copying the transfer student, then the meat he's using should be oxtail, right? So why is he bringing out bacon?" If he's adding bacon to beef stew, there's only one thing it could be. A GARNISH! THE BACON IS MEANT TO BE A SIDE DISH TO THE STEW. Yukihira's recipe is the type that calls for straining the demi-glace sauce at the end to give it a smooth texture. That means its only official ingredients are the meat and the sauce, making for a very plain dish. Garnishes of some sort are a necessity! Beef simmered in red wine- the French dish thought to be the predecessor to beef stew- always comes with at least a handful of garnishes. The traditional garnishes are croutons, glazed pearl onions, sautéed mushrooms... ... and bacon! Then that means... he's going to take that thick, juicy bacon and add it to the stew?!" "Now he's sautéing those extra-thick slices of bacon in butter! He's being just as efficient and delicate as always." "Man, the smell of that bacon is so good! It's smoky, yet still somehow mellow..." "What kind of wood chips did he use to give it that kind of scent?" "You wanna know what I used? Easy. It's mesquite." "Mess-keet?" "Have you heard of it?" "It's a small tree used for smoking that's native to Mexico and the Southern U.S. You'll hardly find it used anywhere in Japan though." "Ibusaki!" Mesquite is one of the most popular kinds of wood chips in Texas, the heartland of barbecues and grilling. Because of its sharp scent, it's mostly used in small quantities for smoking particularly rough cuts of meat, giving them a golden sheen. "But I didn't stop there! I added a secret weapon to my curing compound- Muscovado sugar! I sweetened my curing compound with Muscovado, sage, nutmeg, basil and other spices, letting the bacon marinate for a week! It will have boosted the umami of the bacon ten times over!”

“Bacon would not be a choice if the pig had any say in the matter. A lamb, given the gift of speech, would most probably say "no" if you asked if you could eat her leg. Fish would no doubt choose to stay in the water, if they could and I feel pretty sure turkeys must object once their Christmas fête (or should that be fate?) is made clear to them. Chickens are surely protesting from having their eggs systematically stolen and freedoms restricted, and both cows and their calves would be up in arms, if they had any, with the theft of their milk and violent separation. Given the chance, bees will attack and defend ferociously, even sacrificing themselves in the process, in order to protect their precious honey; a sure sign they do not part with it voluntarily.”

“Yep," I say, cutting a large slice of the Dutch Baby pancake and sliding it onto her plate along with two pieces of thick-sliced bacon. Then I serve myself, the fluffy pancake, doused in butter and lemon and confectioners' sugar, the bacon perfectly crispy and salty. "What happened? 'Cause that is some full-service lawyering; I'm clearly with the wrong firm. Damn this thing is delicious," she says in a rush, forking a large piece of pancake into her mouth and rolling her eyes. "I know, right?" I take a small bite, letting the flavors mingle, the light pancake, the tart lemon, the sweet sugar. Perfection.”

“I boiled potatoes until they were hot and fluffy... ... and then kneaded in diced mushrooms, which are fibrous and soak up fat easily. Then I wrapped the whole mixture up in thick-cut bacon and set it to roast! The heat caused the fat to render out of the bacon, leaving its crispy and crunchy... ... while the potatoes soaked up every last drop of the savory pork fat! Crispy on the outside... ... juicy on the inside. Together they create a savory and sensual taste experience!”

“Kai had won his argument with the bacon, but I conceded only to a monastic crumble of extracrispy bits, as underdone bacon would have violated every personal code I maintained. I forced him to make his own frosting and to include a maple accent, and the bacon/maple combo could only be used on half of the batch. The others, all mine, turned out beautifully and as previously discussed with Manda: strawberry-raspberry cakes with a light and airy lime frosting. I would garnish with a single perfect raspberry right before the party.”

“We both went in for a bite, our spoons clinking against each other over the wide blue bowl. I understood his hesitation because the combination of ingredients inside just seemed so bizarre: soft pearls of earthy quinoa formed the base, mixed with chewy bits of slab bacon, avocado, bananas, and Brazil nuts. I popped the spoonful into my mouth and chewed, expecting these ingredients to clash with one another. But they didn't. They sang together, the saltiness and chew of the bacon mixing with the sweet, silky banana and grassy, buttery avocado. The salty crunch of the Brazil nuts gave the dish texture, and the quinoa was a fairly neutral stage for all the rest to shine. The whole effect was unique, something I wasn't quite sure how to write about. How to put it all into words. But, I thought as I cocked my head, it'll speak really well in a photo, where you can see all these different things mashed up against one another. It'll be beautiful, like its taste.”

“Kusunoki left both ingredients as is, wrapping the salmon in the bacon and delicately heating both to elegant perfection. Using the same concept behind the ramen staple seafood-pork broth, melding the umami of both fish and meat together created a powerfully savory flavor. The olive oil bath he used to prevent even a drop of the fish's juices from escaping was also an excellent touch. In the end, his dish was the picture of a salmon's savory deliciousness, perfectly recreated on the plate.”

“Pam went to the refrigerator and started piling some cold cuts and cheese on the table. “Katie, honey, hand me that bread over there,” she said, pointing to the counter behind me. I handed it to her and she smiled. “Holt, I’m making your father a sandwich. Do you want one?” “I’m starved,” he said. “You just ate!” I exclaimed. “You ate all my bacon,” he accused. “I did not!” I laughed, reaching in for a slice of bread and throwing it at him. He snagged it out of the air and took a huge bite. Holt’s dad grinned. “I like this one, son. Better not let her go.” “I don’t plan on it,” he said, giving me a meaningful stare. I felt my cheeks heat and I made myself busy putting together a sandwich for him. “Katie, make one for you too,” Pam said, handing me the mayo. “Oh, no. That bacon really filled me up.” I grinned slyly.”

“There's the apple's crisp texture and mildly sweet flavor. The onions, which have been simmered to a smooth softness... ... and the crunchy, salty bacon on top, cooked to crispy perfection. But the apples really holds the spotlight. Its mild sweetness spreading throughout the risotto. It's gentle caress... ... gradually wakes you from your slumber. Like the soft kiss... ... of a prince!”

“The 'buccaneers' came ashore in search of bacon. The Cuban Indians had learnt (from the natives of Haiti) a process of preserving meat by drying it and then smoking it over a fire of green leaves and branches. The Indians called the rack on which the meat was laid out a boucan or buccan [bacon], while those who prepared and sold the meet were referred to as boucaniers or buccaneers. Pigs had been brought to Cuba from Europe by the first Spanish settlers. The early litters had been allowed to roan freely over the islands, becoming a vital source of food, not just for the settlers but also for the pirate who arrived in forgotten coves to replenish their water and their stores. They learnt to appreciate the pig meat dried on the boucan, and the world became associated with the pirates themselves,the men who brought home the bacon.”

“Alexander's selected the best potatoes they have in storage, a medium-sized white onion, a hearty block of Reblochon-style cheese, a slab of fatty bacon, and has even retrieved a dry white wine from the downstairs pantry. Eden's mind races. The ingredients are simple, but there are hundreds of different possible outcomes. She can't even begin to fathom what Alexander has in store for her. He handles his knives beautifully. His grip is strong, but just light enough to offer the most flexibility. It isn't very long before he slices up generous bits of bacon and has it sizzling in a hot pan, fat melting away and frying all around the meat to leave it nice and crisp. In goes finely minced onion, and then a good cup or so of white wine to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Then it's the potatoes, which he's skinned and sliced with mind-bending accuracy. Alexander pops everything into an oven-proof dish before covering the top with a hefty layer of cheese. He places it in the oven, but doesn't bother setting a timer. He's a skilled enough chef to know when it's done. "Are you going to tell me what this mystery dish is?" Eden asks. Alexander smiles. "It's a tartiflette," he explains. "My father used to make it all the time. Comfort food, for when I wasn't feeling well.”

“It starts with salad, but the notion soon spreads itself throughout my cooking. From today, never again will I leave any toasted remnants of meat or vegetables in the pan. That goo, that savory butterscotch, contains the soul of the meat, its juices, bubbled down to a sticky, golden nectar. Salty as Parmesan, as sweet as honey, it will never again remain unused. Never again will such goodness be left behind in the pan to be dissolved in the washing-up water.”

“There are two gradations of cold that are always acceptable: Mild Frost, which is preferable for reading and writing and any other activity done indoors, and Absolute Zero, which is the only temperature suitable for sleep. There is nothing more delicious than being swathed in a cocoon of blankets and awaking with a nose frosted over with rime, and once I do achieve vampiric heights and fall asleep with the mastery of a corpse lately dead, I am best left alone until I wake up at my usual time. I do tend to bite when rattled out of my flocculent coffin, and everyone in my building knows never to disturb me during the early morning hours. Authors, being crepuscular creatures, should never be roused before 11am: the creative mind is never turned off; it only dies momentarily and its revived by the scent of coffee at the proper time. Bacon is also an acceptable restorative.”