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My Hungarian is starting to inch beyond the limited vocabulary of a one night stand: ‘good night’ ‘good morning’ ‘good-bye’. Some day soon I’m going to test out my words on the Hungarian lady who works the register at the Polish meat market down the street, but for now I’m taking my broken small talk online at Live Mocha. The course I signed up for proved to be a long subway trek that left me hangry (hungry+angry) so I said ‘Szia’. I wouldn’t have quit if online courses weren’t an option, but they are and I get sleepy in classrooms. (That’s just an excuse. I’m flaky!)

In honor of my awesomeness I’m making some peeps an old family favorite, bacon bread, also known as greasy bread. We used to eat this at my grandpa’s house standing around his tiny charcoal grill. The smell of bacon frying always lured a few neighbors over, but there was more than enough to go around.

You can adapt this for a stove top with a frying pan. We always ate it outside though. You stab thick slabs of smoked bacon on a stick and hold it over the fire until the grease begins to drip. Then you bring it over a slice of rye bread and catch the bacon grease with the bread. Hardcores repeat until the bread is completely saturated, but we just covered the bread’s surface.

Pile diced peppers, onions and tomatoes on top of the bread then some pieces of bacon, and don’t be stingy. Leave it open faced. The grease may run down your chin and arms – it isn’t pretty. If there’s anyone present who you want to continue being attracted to you, advise them to look away.

This is not a healthy food, but if you’re going to try it you should do it right. I made it once with Facon Bacon and gluten free brown rice bread, but it was all wrong. So no more bacon bread for me. Instead I’m making myself a concoction of kale, quinoa, coconut milk, ginger, curry powder and currants. My kitchen smells confused, but it also feels like grandpa’s sitting in the room with me about to slice some smoked keilbalsi and light up a cigar.

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