As I posted recently, I had a secret plan in place to serve up a special meal for the hubs on Fathers Day. This scheme involved me “rolling a fatty”, which basically entails weaving a bunch of raw bacon together,seasoning it with your favorite barbeque seasoning,topping it with Italian sausage, various levels of barbeque seasoning and sauce, more bacon, and in our case, jalapeños.Then, rolling it all up into a “fatty” or “log”, adding more seasoning, and smoking it for a couple of hours,then basting it with more sauce to give it a good glaze.
Then the man of the house royally pissed me off.
I don’t normally get into my tiffs with the hubs (and believe me, we have our share) on here, but I just gotta say, he was really in the dog house. Without getting into details, we’ll just say he didn’t come home when he was supposed to (yes, I know, it was Fathers Day, and he should get to do what he wants, and I agree...to a point. Let’s just say, he pushed it a little too far that day.) In any case, by the time he finally got home (and yes, he knew this was going to take a couple of hours to smoke) it was 8:00pm. By the time the charcoal was going, it was 8:30.
Let me also add that I was sick as a dog with a 102 fever most of the day, at home with our 5 year old, so he could spend the day out with his buddies, so I was not feeling very tolerant by the time he graced us with his presence.
AND. He was a tad drunk. Yeah, spending the day at the bar will do that to a person. (and no, in case you’re wondering, he did not drive himself home. I pre-arranged that to avoid any potential issues.) That being said, my husband is bad at following directions when he’s sober. And, he’s a flipper.
You know the type....puts a burger on the grill, then flips it every five seconds instead of letting it sear, and then wonders why it falls apart on the grill. He does it to me, too. I’ll be cooking something (steaks or chops, or whatever...) and when I’m cleaning a platter, or feeding our son, or any other opportunity he can see where I have my back turned, he steps up tot eh stove and FLIPS whatever I’m cooking, whether it needs it or not. It drives me insane. I am constantly yelling at him to leave it alone. Completely ruins some of my dishes because they never get a chance to sear or caramelize or whatever it may be that they need to do in order to be successful dishes. He’s a stirrer, too.... but that’s a story for another time.
Moving right along....so, since he’s bad at listening.....half drunk.....grilling in the dark.....rushing because the wife is pissed off at him....and on top of everything else, he’s a FLIPPER.....what do you suppose happened to the Bacon Explosion?
Yeah, it fell apart. Admittedly, it had good flavor....but it fell apart. And, it got “done” in a little over an hour, when it should have smoked for at least two. I was so ticked off, that not only did I refuse to try it that night, I went to bed and left him on the deck to finish it himself, with some nasty words left ringing in his ears. Suffice it to say, that Fathers Day will NOT go down in the history books under my list of “best days ever”.
Then... we have my “girls weekend”.
Ginny came out for a quick visit this weekend, and, among all of our other projects that you’ll soon be hearing about, I went about setting things right in the world of pork-love.
I got the ingredients...again.
I rolled the fatty...again.
And we fired up the grill...again.
This time? It was a big fat log of pure pork-a-liciousness.
We were patient... we were gentle.... and we were rewarded for it... with THIS:Bacon Explosion.....we love you.