Show Me The Way

I've been rolling this blog around in my head for over a year and here I am. I grew up in a conservative Jewish household on the east coast. We didn't eat pork in our home and, come to think of it, didn't have shrimp, lobster or oysters either. I do, however, have a great memory of bellying up to an oyster bar with my Mom in Annapolis, MD. She showed me the way. I was initiated into the sheer joy of a dozen oysters on the half shell. Every other one was dolloped with horseradish and a hit of Tabasco. A later camping trip to Rehoboth Beach, DE introduced me to steamed lobster, drawn butter and the obligatory corn on the cob. It counted as our vegetable in the meal. Briny lobster juice dripped down our arms, sunburn was forgotten and life stood still. Flash forward thirty + years to the first breakfast I made for my Boyfriend Who Became My Husband The Engineer. Bacon? You want me to cook bacon? I I I never cooked bacon before. I am confident in the kitchen. I can make practically anything.  I had to remind him that I didn't grow up eating it and, therefore, didn't know about or miss it. Would he please give me the inside scoop on the proper way to cook a piece of bacon? He did. That is how I came to love pork.