I called my wife tonight, to ask her what she’d like for dinner. Bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich? she suggests as if she couldn’t care less either way, though with a quizzical tone. Sure, why not? Given the evening, the rain falling, and a somber attitude only a breath away for me, I agree.

No time to be clever, just putting the bacon in the cold oven at 400, baking for 17 minutes (according to this crazy interwebs article), and the result is a fairly crunchy strip of bacon (it could have stood another 2-3 minutes for improved crispness).

The BLT was fine…no real surprises; tasty, etc. but I’d really like to play with this basic tenet of American cuisine eventually.

What? No picture. We ate the whole damn thing. The sides of oniony coleslaw and peas, Parmesan, and prosciutto from Berkeley Bowl West were meh.

You want a picture? Here. Who is that hairy bastard?

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