Cow meets pig — a love story

January 28, 2011

I do not often hit Sweet Baby Jesus territory on a Friday night, particularly when it comes at the end of the first five-day week I’ve worked in, oh, maybe since Thanksgiving.

Friday night, in fact, is usually either (a) takeout, (b) go out, or (c) burgers.  Tonight it was burgers.

Sweet Baby Jesus burgers. Thusly:

Just take me now, Lord. It don’t get no better’n this.

I had offered NS, who has made up a buttload of his overdue academic assignments, Outback or Olive Garden, his two faves, for dinner. He allowed he’d rather have a PJF burger at home. OK, I can do that.

So I thawed out two pounds of ground beef; mixed in the standard egg, panko, Worcestershire, seasoned salt, and made six burgers. He got Kraft singles on his two for dinner. I decided I wanted caramelized onions and blue cheese on mine.
Two things happily intervened. One, I think I already used all the blue cheese. Two, I found the bacon jam before I found the caramelized onions.
If you will look back to the initial bacon jam post, you will see that I opined that it would go moderately well on a burger. It does not.
It is the best fucking thing you could ever put on a burger, if you tried a different condiment every day for the rest of your life. Period. The end.
Although it was warm enough to grill — I watched the sun set over the lake from my deck, a glass o’wine in hand — the lack of both charcoal and energy nixed that idea. So I seared the burgers off in olive oil on top of the stove, as I have done most of the winter. You have read my paeans to PJF beef, so I’ll not repeat them here. Don’t bother doing this, though, with run-of-the-mill ground beef. It is an insult to your bacon jam.
When I flipped the burger I’d marked for mine after searing side 1 over medium high heat for about 4 minutes, I spooned a healthy tablespoon — OK, maybe it was two tablespoons — of bacon jam on top and kind of squished it out to cover the surface of the burger. And then I finished searing the bottom side. Then I moved it to a folded piece of aluminium foil and crumbled some feta on top of it. That went into the toaster oven on light toast setting, to just sorta soften the cheese and make sure the bacon jam was good and hot.
I did not bother with a bun. Nor should you, unless some gnome has crept into your kitchen and stolen your forks.
A couple of slices of summer-in-January tomatos (Yes, this is the big boy who was destined for a BLT. He never got there. Tomorrow, though, is another Farmers Market day.) to bracket this thing of beauty, with  garnish of oven fries, and another glass of most excellent Sean Minor 4Bs pinot noir, and dinner is served.
I didn’t bother eating the oven fries. I made it through a slice and half of that big damn tomato. There was, however, nary a smidge of that burger left.
I can’t even begin to describe how good this is. Make you some bacon jam. You need it for biscuits, anyway. Then do this. You will not regret it. I promise. It’s better’n sex, at least at my stage in life.
That’s kinda sad, isn’t it?
Or is it? Bacon jam with organic beef? Or sex? If I get to go back and pick the specific sexual incident, I’ll go with sex. If it’s an average, well, I’m thinking the burger and bacon jam lasts longer. And doesn’t snore.
You and y’mama ‘n ’em try bacon jam on your next burger, and then tell me how YOU vote.
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