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Bacon Jam. You decide.

Last weekend, my friend brought Bacon Jam to Becks’ birthday party.  Do I have to tell you again how amazing our friends are?  Fine… I’ll do it again.   My friends are amazing.  Bacon Jam is one of those things that has been intriguing to me forever.  It’s the kind of question you find asking yourself at weird times, but it’s always there in the back of your mind.  I wonder how bacon jam tastes?  That type of question is right up there with: I wonder how a stripper feels after a great set?  Or Does coffee taste better in Paris?  And Does Angie Jolie know that she’s missing out on an awesome Mom-Friendship with me?  We all have those kind of questions swimming in between the real important ones.  When Natalie brought over Bacon Jam, she took one of the questions off my plate.  More time for me to work on those other questions…

It is deliciously odd.  Bacony, but sweet.  Savory and freaky.  It sits there and says, “I’m bacon jam.  And you know you wanna me.  You want all this goodness and you’ll lick the jar.”  And it has a smoky accent when it’s taunting you.  After a shitty week, I wanted my own jar whispering in my fridge.

I used Maple Bourbon Bacon Jam recipe from Closet Kitchen.  Hello?  Bourbon.  Easy choice.  But I’m sure you could substitute a cola or another liquid.   Natalie served it with goat cheese and crackers, but this morning, I used it on a quinoa cake with a poached egg.  Mark isn’t a huge fan.  It has an intensely odd flavor.  To some people, the spice combo might be wonky.  To me it’s like a itty-bitty Bruno Mars singing/dancing on my tongue.  It’s supposed to last 4 weeks in the fridge.  I’ve been trying to figure out if I can pressure can it in small doses for gifts.  I’m sure it’s possible, but I can’t stop eating long enough to do the research.

Try it and tell me what it does to your tongue.  Or tell me about the nutty questions you have swimming in your head.