Martha Hall Foose’s Bacon Crackers

Serves 6

A snack from the Mississippi Delta

Don't let the simplicity of this recipe fool you.  

These little snackies are delish!

INGREDIENTS

• • 3/4 pound (about 16 slices) thinly sliced bacon

  • 42 rectangular butter crackers (such as Club or Captain's or Waverly)

PREPARATION

Heat the oven to 250°F.

Slice the bacon slices into thirds crosswise. Wrap each cracker with a piece of bacon, overlapping as little as possible. Place the wrapped crackers ½ inch apart on a wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet or broiler pan. Bake 1½ hours or until the bacon constricts the center of each cracker and becomes crisp. Remove the pan from the oven and allow the crackers to cool on the rack before eating.

Recipe from Martha Hall Foose’s cookbook, A Southerly Course.

What I've been up to . . .

 

Not nary a thing.

Taking a wee bit of a social media sabbatical, reading some good books, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, equalling a lot of "not much."

A new profile pic at Facebook because I left the house today.  Leaving the house means  combing my hair, and putting on a little bit of make-up and that warrants getting my picture taken.  😚 😋 😇 😊

Oh, i did get a pair of new shoes . . .

And that is all the news from Meat Camp, my friends.

Take care! ❤

Life While-You-Wait by Wislawa Szymborska

 

Life While-You-Wait.

Performance without rehearsal.

Body without alterations.

Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.

I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it.

I have to guess on the spot

just what this play’s all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,

I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.

I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.

I trip at every step over my own ignorance.

I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.

My instincts are for happy histrionics.

Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.

Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can’t take back,

stars you’ll never get counted,

your character like a raincoat you button on the run —

the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.

If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,

or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!

But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.

Is it fair, I ask

(my voice a little hoarse,

since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).

You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz

taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.

I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.

The props are surprisingly precise.

The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.

The farthest galaxies have been turned on.

Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.

And whatever I do

will become forever what I’ve done.

Photo by Don Barley