Oscar IV – Now We’re Talkin’

Baconlicious.

Can I fix you a coupla slices of buttered toast pressed around bacon and a fried egg, honey? Love those browny, burny bits of egg scrap left in the frypan.

Watching the sun go down over Green Bay one summer night – it’s beautiful up there in Fish Creek at the tip of Wisconsin’s thumb – with one of my all time favorite people, Bob Swanson, of the braided white beard and unquenchable urge to cook and bake. He would fill his kitchen with lingonberry giftas, mandelbrot, limpa bread, sour cream donuts, Swedish potato sausage…. Whether there were adequate appetites around or not.

So… we were sitting on the stone wall, bumping the backs of our heels on the stones and watching rock-skipping kids turn to silhouettes, and naming the tree-black islands in the bay. Just as the sun touched down on that cold, clear water Bob said. “See the steam?”

I heard the hiss, too.