Breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Today we chose the North Line DFAC as it is just across the road from where we work. While it is convenient, its most attractive feature is the “American Bacon”.
Bacon apparently comes in many ethnicities. I’m a Canadian and, ironically, I had never heard of “Canadian Bacon” until on a trip to the U.S. I saw it on a menu. Out of curiosity (and not a little shame at not knowing a national dish) I ordered it only to find out it is what those of us north of the border know as back bacon. Back bacon itself is ok for what it is…ham, essentially…but it is no substitute for the real thing.
At KAF, you’ll encounter three things they pass off as bacon. European Bacon, Canadian Bacon, and American Bacon.
This is the stuff I grew up with but we just called it bacon. It is the real thing. You know the stuff. It comes thinly sliced and neatly wrapped in plastic. The strips are aligned and organized in their tight little package. The strips are long and almost uniform. You can cook it till it’s crispy or leave it a little chewy. It is everything bacon was ever intended to be. And they have it at the North Line DFAC every morning…unless there is a KAF wide bacon drought like the three week long one we had a few months ago but I don’t want to talk about that shameful chapter in our history.
In KAF, this means extremely thin circles of a ham-like substance that is boiled until it doesn’t even have a salty taste anymore. Imagine the vacuum of space…that is what it tastes like. Whenever this is available, I find myself shamefully telling all the other nationalities in line “This isn’t how we serve bacon in Canada, honestly. This makes a mockery of my country. Please don’t judge my people by these paper thin disks of despair”.
These monstrous, irregular slabs of fatty, tough, salted meat do nothing to enhance Europe’s reputation for culinary sophistication. While American Bacon (or as I prefer to call it: bacon) is a beautiful display of orderliness and symmetry, European Bacon looks like someone attacked a pig with a chainsaw.
Now…back to this morning’s breakfast. I went for my usual 3 eggs over easy, toast and bacon. While the North Line egg line is usually pretty short, the cook can’t seem to handle more than 3 orders on his giant grill at a time. (He could learn something from the legendary Santos at the Cambridge DFAC. Santo’s magic will be covered in a future post). I also think his grill isn’t hot enough; the eggs are always at least slightly undercooked and sometimes disgustingly so…with liquid whites dripping from the fork.
The bacon from the steamline however was awesome. And they don’t just give you two or three strips like most cheap-ass restaurants back home. Even semi-raw gooey eggs taste great with 8 strips of bacon. Hell, I don’t even know why I order the eggs. Or the toast. Just pile on the bacon. (Mental note: get my cholesterol checked when I get home).