Will Tango for Bacon

Some say fall is a great time to fall in love. Change is everywhere, and life feels as crisp as the autumn air. I say that's bullshit, but I did fall in love with tango.

This isn't terribly surprising. Personally, music sparks a nearly tangible dopamine response. Stimulants like caffeine fail to keep me awake, but take me to a good club at 1am and I will dance for at least the next two hours. People generalize why many women and some men like to dance. The same people conclude that women like moving to music and men like women. Ah, there is no reciprocity in life, is there?

I went salsa dancing recently in an attempt to de-funkify and let loose. I got pretty lucky: the music was live, there were plenty of good dancers, and I successfully told anyone hitting on me that I was Susie, a linguistics major from Florida. My feet were so tired I didn't go running the next day. I blame it on the partner who thought standing in place while I did never-ending sets of triple spins was good dancing. It was as if he was thinking "Ooooh, she turns! Let's do it again. Oooh! She turned again!" WTF dude, you should try spinning nonstop. What do I look like, Dancing with the Stars? I felt like I was on the Salsa Teacups of Death. However I won't like; it was a lot of fun.

Why? Dance evokes that delicious feeling that arises when the body connects music and space. Suddenly all the emotions that leapt out of the brain at the first measure have a physical outlet. You not only change your body to fit the music, but you change the very environment: the palpable expression of elusive musical nuances.

Fancy words for a girl who danced a hoedown on a kitchen chair to Christmas carols before a midterm. In October. In dalmatian spotted PJ pants.

My new love is tango. Argentine tango is simply beautiful. It isn't necessarily the fiery flash-and-trash performances you see on stage and in film, although many are fabulous. Rather, the movements have a very organic superficiality. You can watch avid tangueros savor every flourish--regardless if they are seasoned dancers or an elderly couple on the floor. It is not a polished presence, but rather a raw consequence of the music that cannot be hidden or easily falsified. Some dances I love because they allow me to be someone else. Tango I love because it shows me that this someone else--is actually me.

Grammatical ambiguities aside, I'm obsessed. I listen to tangos at work, check out violin tangos to play at home, and dance with anyone who puts up with me. I'm having difficulty unlearning ballroom habits (Argentine tango does not have the arched, extended frame of ballroom tango), but my inner pseudo-dancer in me is whining like a five year old child. "Dance NOW! I want to learn more NOW!" Definitely matches the the music, no?

If I fell in love with tango, I became infatuated with bacon. Don't ask why, I have no clue. In fact, most animal fat scares me. I bake with butter because there is no good subsitute, my cream soups lack cream, and I trim every molecule of fat off my meat. Nonetheless I want bacon like I want my experiments to work. Grilled figs wrapped in bacon. Pineapple bacon prawns. Cheddar bacon biscuits. More sentences without verbs. As long as it includes bacon. One friend asked me if I was pregnant. Another friend joked, "I bet your brain when you wake up is like, 'Science! BACON! Tango.'" Damn straight it is.

The problem is that I haven't gone food shopping in two weeks. There is no food in the house. Absolutely no bacon. What to do? I managed to make amazing muffins: you know you bake too much when the leftovers make apple cranberry oat muffins. Too bad delicious muffins do not have bacon, which is what I want like I want oxygen.

To remedy the situation, I went for a run. One must do something to burn off massive amounts of pork fat. Afterwards I went to the store, yelling "Baccoooooon!!!" while dashing inside; much to the dismay; much to the dismay of my fellow shoppers. I waited fifteen minutes for my number to be called at the meat counter. The lady before me asked for a pound of bacon. "Good choice!" I quipped. "Oh, it's for a friend, she's too skinny. I haven't craved bacon since I was pregnant." Oh shit. I got my half-pound of thickly sliced pepper bacon. It was the lone outlier in a shopping cart of produce and low-fat yogurt. Statistical deviations have never tasted so good.

Now what? I could roll up my sleeves and cook something. Too bad neurosis are impatient. First order of business was a simple bacon cheese sandwich. Once that salty crisp ecstasy hit my palette I knew I was in business. Diced apples, shallot and garlic hit a saute pan. The mixture went into a bowl and met cheddar cheese and crumbled bacon. Can you say 'delicious filling?' I used it in stuffed pork chops, but it also makes a wicked stuffed turkey burger. There is something that hits the spot, and then there is something that reminds you why life is worth living. Generally life doesn't go your way. Things fail, people disagree, and discontent rules without interruption. But sometimes, all you need is a little bacon. And maybe a tango.


Mustard-crusted pork chops with apple bacon stuffing
2 pork chops (thick cut)
2 T whole-grain mustard
1 small apple, diced (pick a tart and crisp variety, like golden delicious, honey crisp, fuji, or macintosh)
3 strips thick-cut bacon, fried and crumbled
1/2 c sharp cheddar cheese
1 clove garlic, minced
1 shallot or 1/2 small red onion, diced
1/4 c chicken broth
2 t apple cider vinegar

Saute apples, garlic, and shallot in olive oil until shallot is slightly translucent. Put into a small bowl. Add bacon and cheddar cheese, mix.

Cut a slit into the pork chop, making as wide and deep a pocket as possible. Salt/pepper the meat. Spoon mustard on either side of the chop to make a nice crust. Put stuffing into the pocket, packing in firmly. (It helps to rest it on the non-slit edge.)

Heat a little olive oil in a skillet over med-high heat. Cook pork in skillet for 2 min on each side. Then, add chicken broth and vinegar, turn heat down to medium, and cover with lid. Allow to simmer/steam for at least another 5 min, or until cooked (depends on thickness of pork chop.