First off, I’d like to note how cool Wynonna Judd is for staying fat for her fat pill commercials. It saves us all from having to wonder if alli® actually works. Therefore this installment of Bacon of the Month goes out to that wonderful, Country singin’, crybaby cow.

   We’re all on board with the idea that the BOTM will always be at least a month behind, yes? March’s post was merely a gripe about not having received any slabs from the club. But the whine went straight to heaven as our Lord ‘n Savior Jesus of Nazareth made the mailman cough up the goods the very next morning. And this is what we got: Hungarian Kolozsvari Bacon from Bende & Son.

   It throws you off at first. With a burnt orange rind over streaks of hepatitis yellow and machete red it’s like a compact, rectangular sculpture of a zombie sunrise. A string looped through one corner ignites images of rattling caravans and darkly exotic women with huge gold earrings, boot-length red skirts and white blouses billowing at the sleeves but snug and plunging where it counts. Animal parts sizzle over campfires as whiskered old ladies cackle about silver bullets and wolfsbane. Cabbies in satin suits try to sell you leather goods as you weaken under the hypnotic dangle of a meat slab slung on the taxi’s rearview mirror. “Ready To Eat” stated the label. So gimme some already, I thought.

   I was leery of treating bacon like a cold cut. Then again, it’s merely a form of fatty ham. If cured enough almost anything can be eaten before cooking. I wasn’t about to question Central European wisdom either lest my children suddenly grow donkey ears or get turned into dancing rats. I took a thin slice off the slab and popped it in my mouth…

   …and it was pretty nasty. Lots of overpowering, acrid smoke, a bitter vegetal bite and the salty slap of a jilted Gypsy chick on the tongue. I almost cried, briefly thinking that the B of M Club was a cruel joke or a clever dummy organ of PETA’s, designed to turn people off of meat for good. But I realized I’d made a mistake and it should’ve been obvious by the string and overall hues of this brick of bacon. It had gone straight from the curing process into a cryovac pack. I’d eaten a micro-slice of the rind so I was really only tasting the cure but not the bacon.

   Cutting further into it revealed its true bacon heart, pinkish-white fat and vermillion meat.  Nice, veeerrrry nice. And the aroma kicked ass – internally it had a waft of beechy/oaky smoke and a touch of paprika perfume behind the ears. The paprika seriously jumps out in your mouth – bright AND earthy, lightly pungent – the Hungarian Baconators were apparently using the good stuff. The “tasting notes” said something about garlic in the method but even though I know it goes into many cured meats, like salami, my tongue has never been very good with noticing it. 

   Anyhow, this tricky fucker was a true surprise, going from a hideous entrance to a deeply charming finish. Just needed to figure out what to do with it. I fried some up with eggs and made a swell breakfast. Can’t be cooked too crisp, however, otherwise the concentrated salt will overwhelm the other flavors. There’s always a suggested recipe with the bacon they send you penned by their house chef or somebody. I usually toss them out because the card includes a picture of the guy and I generally refuse to take direction from any putz in a denim chef coat and an ascot. I do, however, recall a soupy, white bean recipe for the Koloszvari and things like that are probably the best way to go – this stuff seems ideal in supporting roles rather than as the main attraction.

  A Google search on Hungarian bacon will yield an almost unanimous suggestion that the best way to go is to put some on a stick, sear it over a campfire and eat it with black pumpernickel and hefty shakes of hot paprika. I’m sure I’ll get around to one of these Magyar weenie roasts soon enough, in the meantime I used it to make a Cuban style batch of black beans. Except that I used pinto beans. I kept a little chunk of it for later use in one of the Caribbean seafood stews which make my spring times happy times.  Also, Remembering one of my Facebook pals from high school was actually Hungarian I asked if she had any thoughts. She was nice enough to send me the Layered Cabbage and Gulyas recipes below. They’re solid cold weather recipes, but it ain’t like April has been sweltering this year…

Cuban Frijoles (not exactly) Negros

• 2 Cans (19oz) Pinto Beans, or whatever you like, rinsed & drained
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 1 carrot, diced
• Pinch of ground cloves
• 6-8 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 12oz (3/4 lb) Koloszvari Bacon, diced
• kosher salt to taste
• Water (enough to keep beans somewhat loose while cooking)
• Splash of white wine
• Freshly ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon vinegar
• Garnishes thought – Sour cream, sliced scallions, crumbled queso fresco or cheddar, chiles, gummi worms.

In a large soup pot heat the oil over medium to heat. Add onions, carrots, cloves and garlic and cook until soft. Add bay leaves, oregano, the beans and hocks. Add the bacon, beans and enough water to cover then bring to a full rolling boil. Adjust the heat to maintain a simmer, cook until beans and meat are way tender, about 1 hours.

Test seasoning, adding salt (if necessary) & pepper to taste. Add wine & vinegar.  Take a half cup of beans out, mash and return to pot. Simmer to thicken. 

Layered Cabbage

preheat oven to 375, squeeze sauerkraut well and wash it in cold water. add 1 cup water and cook for 15 minutes. Cook the rice in the broth. Fry the onions in lard for 5 minutes. add ground pork and cook for another 15 minutes. Remove from heat and mix with paprika and garlic. Cook diced bacon for a few minutes, then add the sausage. Remove with a slotted spoon.

In the bottom of a baking/serving casserole dish put fat from bacon and spread along the bottom. put one third of the sauerkraut in the bottom. Layer pork then rice then sausage and bacon and half the sour cream and milk. pour the remaining sour cream and milk on the top layer. Bake for 1 hour.

Gulyas (Goulash)

peel tomato, cut in to 1 inch dices. Core green pepper and slice into rings. Peel potatoes and cut into 3/4 inch dices. After meat has braised for an hour, add the tomato and green peppers and a cup more water. Add a little salt and simmer for 30 minutes.

Add potatoes and cook until they are soft. Adjust salt. Make dumplings (water salt and flour dropped in small bits into boiling water).