My attempt at the Bacon Explosion (TM) for Luau 2011!

Several months ago, a friend stumbled across this little delight on the internet. It is called "Bacon Explosion" and had earned its creators some well-deserved meaty fame. Long story short, it is bacon wrapped in sausage, wrapped in bacon and smoked to meaty perfection. Even though I don't have a smoker, I decided to try to make one for the annual Luau thrown by my dear friends here in Denton.

The day of Luau, I took an early trip to my local megamart on Baby the Scooter (YAYHAPPYFUNSCOOTERTIME) and loaded up on sausage, bacon, and my favorite barbecue sauce. Once all the materials were assembled, I got started.

I started by putting a large sheet of foil down to protect the countertop from grease and the grease from anything that might have lurked on the countertop. The first step was time consuming but not difficult: the bacon basketweave. The size of the end product is limited by the length of the strips of bacon at this point, so I had chosen a nice, long package of bacon, cut thick as the recipe recommends. I plan to try a thinner cut next time I do this because the outer layer did not cook to my satisfaction.

The next step is pretty simple: sprinkle the basketweave of bacon with your favorite rub. The original recipe suggests the creators's own rub (of course) but I went with Adam's Brisket Rub. It is the key to my pork ribs and an all-around nice rub. It's not overly spicy; not overly salty; a nice savory assortment of flavor; and available at nearly every store I shop.

On to the sausage layer: I used Jimmy Dean All Natural (no preservative) sausage. It is my favorite pork sausage for any recipe that isn't Italian. It took some work to get a nice even layer without destroying the basketweave underneath but I managed. I gently pressed the sausage into an even layer that was just smaller than the frame of the bacon. I used the full two pounds of sausage but I think next time I will go with slightly less because the final product was not as "bacon-y" as I'd hoped.

Then I added a generous schmear of barbecue sauce, the cooked bacon crumbles, and a little cheese before rolling up the sausage. I chopped the bacon pretty fine for the inside and I think I should have cut the pieces before cooking them so they would be a little bigger. The rolling would have been harder but the bacon would have been more obvious in the final product. The rolling was the hardest step. The sausage was very soft and bulky and the bacon and cheese tried to escape. It was a true test of my manual abilities. (^_-)

Then I wrapped the sausage roll in the bacon basketweave and placed it seam-side-down on the baking rack of my biggest jellyroll pan. I wanted plenty of room for the grease to collect. AS I said before, I don't have a smoker so I used my oven to make this bacon-y bad boy. I inserted my meat thermometer, set the timer for 165 degrees, and baked this baby at 225'F. It took about two hours and 45 minutes to reach temperature, which is pretty darn close to the recipe's 1-hour-per-inch-of-thickness time estimate.


It rendered out pretty well and the seam held perfectly but the outer layer of bacon was not as cooked as I felt it should have been. So I ramped up the temperature on the oven to 400 and crisped up the outer layer. Then I turned off the oven, basted with more barbecue sauce and left it in the cooling oven for a little while so the sauce could get sticky.

Sadly, I don't have a photo of the beautifully brown Bacon Explosion in all its glazed glory but once it was sliced and put on slider buns, it went fast. Everyone who wanted to try it got to. I learned a lot about what to do better next time. A huge thank you to the creators of the original Bacon Explosion for giving me something fun to offer to the meat-eaters in my life!

My First Hangover

I've heard stories for years from friends and acquaintances about their legendary party days and the epic hangovers they suffered. I always felt a smug self-satisfaction that while I had no legendary party stories, I also had never had a hangover.

No longer.

Saturday night (June 25) I attended a deelightful celebration of a darling dancing diva and chocolatier extraordinaire from our community. She rented a hookah bar in Dallas; loaded the place up with dancers, friends, and chocolate; hired a band and a henna artist; and we BYOB'd her birthday into the ground!

At most BYOB functions, I generally bring a container of some sort of cocktail to share. I am very picky about wine and don't enjoy many beers, so I mix up what I like and (have been told) I have a gift for making mellow-tasting but powerful drinks. It was never my goal to get me or my cohorts drunk but I am a foodie so it just makes sense to make the best-tasting cocktails you can out of high-quality liquors and fresh ingredients. My Watermelon Martini is deceptive: fresh, sweet, and lethal. On Saturday I decided to take a batch of Cape Codders. Nothing complex: cranberry juice cocktail, Monopolowa potato vodka, and lime wedges.

At the hookah bar, The Hubbinator, my Bestest Bestie and I shared a lemonade hookah, which was a bright and delightful flavor and, once we fixed the initial char from the overfilled bowl, lasted us the rest of the night! I got some henna done on my hand, which turned out beautifully and has made me spend many hours daydreaming of a permanent henna pattern tattooed on my feet. We sampled some amazing chocolates and watched beautiful dancers. An Outstanding Evening. Heck, we were even home and in bed before 1:00 am, which is nearly unheard of when we head to Dallas for the evening.

At about 5:30 am, I woke up for a potty break and thought, Huh... I don't feel so good. I must be dehydrated. So I took care of business, drank a little water, and went back to bed. At 7:30 am, I woke up and thought, Wow. I really don't feel so good. No headache, just nausea and general malaise. Again, I thought dehydration and had a little water before getting back in bed.

The thing to understand here is that I refuse to throw up. It is an act of supreme will to force my roiling stomach to submit to my desire to maintain the traditional one-way flow of my digestive tract. Rarely, my stomach wins.

WARNING: GRAPHIC (but funny) CONTENTS TO FOLLOW

When I was little, my mother taught my sister and I to sit on the toilet and hold a garbage can in front because by the time I accept the circumstances and finally allow emesis, the pressure has built up and my guts wrench so hard that expulsion occurs at both ends. Mom is a very smart lady.

As an adult, I have ensured that every bathroom has a solid plastic garbage can with a liner (generally in the form of a grocery store plastic bag) that can be easily yanked and discarded, leaving an easily-cleaned container at the sick person's disposal.

I went in, sat down, and hugged my precious blue plastic pail as though it was the last Care Bear during a Christmas rush in the mid-1980s. My body gave me all my classic symptoms: cold chills, sweaty upper lip, and uncontrollable drooling. And for ten gut-wrenching minutes I fought it. Why do I fight it? I. Don't. Know.

Then my stomach pulled a bait-n-switch: the nausea suddenly passed and there was a slight tickle in my throat. This is the point in the movie when people start yelling at the television, "NO, DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" I took a breath, cleared my throat, coughed softly, and the floodgates opened. I heaved like I was trying to get a piano up to a 5th-floor walk-up on the lower east side. And for all that suffering, all I rid my body of was a half-cup of water and a little foam.

GROSSOUT ENDED

So I got sick. It was the first time I had been sick since a trip back from a weekend in Austin when we stopped at the Elite Cafe in Waco and I got sick from the chicken fried steak.

I digress.

So in my post-puke euphoria, I decided to continue with my standard Sunday morning routine of grocery shopping followed by laundry. I had been in contact with my friend and troupemate Michelle so she knew I had been sick. I told her I was ready to shop. She asked, "Are you sure you are up for it?" I drove to her house and she got in the van, "Are you SURE you are up for this? We can go later. We can go tomorrow."

"No, no, I'm okay. I need to shop. I need to stick to my routine."

She didn't say anything but I know she was thinking, NO, YOU DON'T!

So we drove to our favorite Kroger and walked in the store. My guts were swimming and telling me, Hey, blondie! You should listen to your friend. To which I responded, Shut up. We are already here. I'll get you some water.

Our standard Sunday is to go to the store, get a tasty beverage from Starbucks, and casually shop in a near-empty store while the rest of town sleeps in or goes to church. I usually get a fat-free chai latte (hot or cold) and she gets a coffee creation. Then off to the deli counter, produce, dairy, etc. I knew there was no way I could consume a dairy-filled drink while I felt so badly so I went with water. We moseyed over to the deli counter, placed our order, and then I looked at Michelle, "Be right back."

The nausea had hit hard and quick and with great care and purpose I crossed the ENTIRE STORE to get to the only bathroom. I eyed every container for over 100 yards, thinking repeatedly, If I throw up in that, I can never shop here again. I looked at the garbage can by Starbucks, the empty pot in the floral section, heck, I even gave the DVD display a glance. About halfway across the store I started drooling uncontrollably. About 3/4 across the store I stopped swallowing because it was making things worse. I managed to get into the restroom, give a wan smile to the lady washing her hands, get into the big stall, and spit the drool into the toilet.

Then I don't really know what happened. The nausea passed. I don't know if it was smell of water or the lack of any other strong smells but suddenly I was okay. I didn't trust it and stood around for a couple of minutes but I was fine. Confused but happy to have defeated the dyspepsia, I walked back to the deli section, where Michelle was accepting our baggies of lunch meats. She looked expectantly at me and I told her, "Well, I didn't get sick but that was a heck of a false alarm."

We made it through the rest of the store without incident. I held my breath and power walked down the laundry detergent aisle because I had figured out strong smells were a huge trigger. I stayed at the end of the baking aisle while she got what she needed because the smell of the molasses in the brown sugar was like a physical barrier.

While heading out of the store, I had one last false alarm trip to the restroom but nothing like the first one. Michelle loaded the car while she waited for me and told me, "I wish I could do something to help you." I replied that she already had by loading the car. It was the best thing she possibly could have done.

I drove back to her house to drop her off, and then drove back to my place. I sat in the car with the AC off for a minute and just enjoyed the stillness. Then I heaved my carcass back into the house, handed The Hubbinator my keys and said, "Will you please unload the van? I'm gonna go throw up again."

He looked a little confused, I think. I'm not really sure. I got to the bedroom, lay on the bed, and concentrated on breathing while I thought, Well, I made it to the 2nd half of my 30s before doing this to myself. does that mean I am getting dumber? Maybe my body just couldn't take the chocolate on top of cocktails on top of hookah. Too much hookah. That's it. Too much hookah. The hookah was good. Lemonade was a great flavor. I like lemonade. I should make some lemonade. No, no, too much sugar. No sugar. No sugar today. maybe ever. oh hey... now i have an epic story... hookah is a funny word. hoooooo-kuh. And eventually fell asleep.

Four hours later I awoke feeling human again. I managed to eat a grilled cheese sandwich and felt even better. Several theories have been bantered about debating why I got so sick. All I know is I hope it Never Happens Again.

I've decided to keep bloggerating

I really enjoy reading and being reminded of past shenanigans so I am going to maintain this blog after all.

Much has happened since the State Fair 2010 performance. Mel told us she was gonna quit dance after the state fair performance and she did. The one thing we asked was that she not stop being social. She stopped being social. She dropped dance and everything about dance like a hot rock because a thoughtful, dedicated man came into her life. She didn't even thank Michelle for the blanket Michelle knitted for Mel to gift to a new baby in her boyfriend's family. She thanked her by proxy, through me. Time has reduced the bitterness but no one likes to be dumped. I hope she can find what she is looking for.

I wish I'd blogged about the Amazing Awesomeness that was the Horacio & Beata workshop in Milwaukee in October 2010. The drive, the workshop, the food, Kopp's, it was EPIC.

Mizna, Michelle, and I continue on. We had all the usual holiday performances. Kismet Dallas finally had a show again March 18, 2010, in a new venue, The Quixotic World. And imperfect show and we didn't make rent but people seemed to like the cash bar. Just Fabulous has done the "last" of our shows for the summer with Cathy & Company. The Denton Starrise Series show was early this year: June 17. We usually do that show in July. It was pretty well attended and we hung out at Banter after.

Matt's sister Michele moved in with us in early February. She is job hunting and escaping a bad situation in North Carolina. She has found potential happiness at the Hank Haney Golf Center and is on the road to personal recovery.

Matt's job is pretty hard right now. He is in week three of 7am-11pm. Not a schedule he functions well with but it should end this week. I have had several evenings to myself with him working so much. I wish I could say I have used the time to work around the house.

For me, work is quiet. It's summer. I'm getting caught up. And watching InuYasha on Netflix.

SURVIVED!

October 10th was Just Fabulous' 2nd performance at the State Fair of Texas. Overall I think it was a pretty successful day.

I got up almost on time (snoozed once) and got myself ready to go. Matt didn't have to wear fake eyelashes so he got to sleep much later than I. We got out of the house at 8:22, which I felt was pretty late since we had to get gas, get cash, and pick up Melodi before heading to Fair Park. The goal was to get Mel by 9 and be at the fair by 9:45. An optimistic plan.

Traffic wasn't bad until we got to the exit for the fairgrounds and then I sent us to the wrong gate, Matt very thoughtfully dropped Mel and I off at the gate so we could rush in to get checked in for the first performance while he parked the car and did the mile+ trek back to the gate. Luckily Michelle had already checked in with our music and had plenty of time to panic about doing the whole show herself. The rest of us raced in about 15 minutes before the first showtime.

The first show went swimmingly and we actually had some crowd stop to watch. The music was perfect and no one lost a costume or bled so, Success!! We hung out and watched the other performances between our first and second set at the Hall of State stage. There are some truly amazing folkloric troupes in Texas. I realized I had forgotten my sunscreen so I ran back to the dressing trailers to check my makeup and apply a solid coat of SPF 75.

For the 2nd show, the samba performers set up their drum kits while we set our props, which was a little weird but we are pros so we took it in stride. Then the main speaker started to crackle and lose volume during the first half of our show but we are pros so we kept dancing. The stage, which is about 12' X 12', level with the ground, and smooth linoleum, got a little warm after a morning in the sun, but we had foot protection so we were okay. We had an even bigger crowd and again, no one lost a costume or bled, Success!

Matt wanted to watch the Samba troupe do their thing and the costumes are amazing but for me the drummers were the star of the show. And it is dumb but I love the whistle in Samba/Brazilian music. The band leader had a coach's whistle and was blowing it for all he was worth with the rest of the music and for some reason I just dig it.

We finally started to make our way to the Heritage Festival stage, having already decided that there was no way we would be able to get a Fletcher's Corndog before the last show; that line was insane!

We stood around in the shade watching the Italian folk dancers and then Ballet Folklorico from San Antonio, which is not a ballet troupe but a Mexican folk dance troupe. We ran into one of our favorite belly dance celebrities, Rivkah, who had come to see our show! Then we got to go on a half hour early because another troupe didn't show up. We were happy to go early because by then we had been in the sun for over 4 hours. The weather was beautiful and mild but 4+ hours in the sun when you aren't used to it will take the wind out of anyone's sails. I gave our music to the DJ, a nice older gentleman who was frazzled because he kept having to stop and start the music for the troupes. He was visibly relieved when I told him to hit play and let it run.

The stage that was set up for the Heritage Festival was raised about 3" off the ground and 32' X 32'. Since it was not covered, we were worried about the temperature of the surface but once we got close we could see that it was painted gray, rather than black, so I touched it. It was certainly warm but not so hot that I had to take my hand away so I thought, no problem. Wrong. Once we got up there, I could feel the metal connectors, which were MUCH hotter than the main wooden panels of the stage.

After a very nice introduction by the MC, we got going. I don't know about the rest but I did my level best to stay off those damn connectors since I was, essentially, in bare feet. And moving around on the stage, my feet didn't get a chance to cool off so by the end, they were very tender. To use the jogger parlance, I hit a wall about 2 minutes before the end of the show. I nearly forgot to do the last 3 8-counts of Harem. But the audience was nice and then we were done! We put on street clothes and staggered away.

Michelle and Ginger left and Matt, Mel, and I meandered our way to a corndog booth on our way out of the fair. When the tram showed up to take us to the car, sitting down had never felt so good in my entire life! The tram let us off within 2 rows of the car and we headed home.

After dropping Mel off, Matt and I decided we wanted burgers for dinner so I called ahead to Fuddruckers and we took dinner home. I felt so gross: sweaty, sun screen-y, and exhausted. I had to wash my hands and face to get all the makeup off before I would even consider eating. After dinner I took a long, lukewarm bath and then went grocery shopping.

Yes, grocery shopping.

All we needed was milk, some produce, and Matt wanted ice cream. So I hauled my debilitated ass to Kroger on University and got one of their bitty shopping carts. The place was filled with college students but I got in and out pretty quickly. I made Matt help unload and put away the groceries and then I Crashed.

It was a pretty good day but Matt and I are going to go back to the fair next weekend to see the fair. Three shows in a day was an achievement but I would rather do one or two shows and then see the Craft Barn, farm animals, and ride the Valkerie. I also managed to avoid sunburn on everything but my scalp, which, with this new, short hair, is BURNT. ow.

I am caked out.

I decided this weekend that I will not be making a cake for myself for my birthday this year. This is a break in a very long tradition. People have always freaked out that I make my own cake and my standard response is, "I know what I like."

But I am caked out.

I have made 22 cakes so far in 2010 and the last 3 have been carrot cake, which is by far the most labor intensive and costly. I have somehow convinced everyone I know that making cakes is my favorite thing in the world and it isn't. Baking a cake is a gesture of love, a gift to the celebrant, that I feel is being taken advantage of because I do not make myself say, "no." I like to think that people have no idea how much time and money these cakes cost me. I hope it isn't naive when I tell myself that they just really like my cake and they aren't thinking, hey, Angela will make a cake and that will save me $50!

That would mean they are making me pay the $50 they weren't willing to pay.

That would make me very sad.

I really enjoy making a tasty product and it feeds my ego like nothing else when people gush about how tender/tasty/decadent/etc. one of my cakes is. I come from a long line of women who say I love you by feeding and it is extraordinarily flattering to be sought out to bake for a special occasion.

But...

I am Caked Out.

State Fair Performance

Once again, Just Fabulous has been included in the State Fair of Texas. I really enjoy performing at the State Fair even though the planning that goes into this performance can be pretty dang stressful. We are going with simpler costumes this year and I think we already have all the performances we need since we only got 20-minute slots.

Three 20-minute slots.

Shall we do 3 identical shows? Three separate shows? Between having a 4th troupe member and two new choreographies, filling 20 minutes will be absolute cake. Two performances will be on the stage in front of the Hall of State but this year we are also doing one on the Heritage Stage. Very cool to be included in the air-conditioned show!

Vacation is Over

It has been a really nice week. As I mentioned on Facebook, I was doing "staycations" long before folks labeled it as such; only for me it is more a glimpse into the future. A future where we have reduced our debt load to the point that the household is my job, rather than the crap I still have to take care of when I get home from my 40-hours.

It was delightful to have a week of a clean, organized house (mostly) and spoiling Matt with fun, fancy lunches and quiet evenings.

As exciting as my newly renovated office is, nothing can compare to the feeling of satisfaction I get when I can look around after dinner and know there is nothing that I have to do before bed so Matt and I can relax and enjoy each other's company.

While technically this is the last day of vacation, it is really more of a traditional Sunday. Michelle joined me for my early morning grocery shopping and now I am doing the traditional Sunday laundry. A quiet day. I'm hoping for a trip to Cabela's to go look at all the amazing camping innovations that have been made since I was a kid.