Tremendous Bacon Burger

We need to talk about bacon on a burger. We're doing it. And I know — I KNOW — there are people out there, sad people, weak people, people who eat dry chicken on top of lettuce and call it 'lunch,' who will tell you that bacon on a burger is 'too much.' Too much? TOO MUCH? There is no such thing as too much bacon. The phrase doesn't exist. It's not in the dictionary. I checked. Many people checked. The concept is IMPOSSIBLE. Bacon is the gift the pig gave us in exchange for everything we've put it through, and we should accept that gift, every single day, on top of beef. End of discussion.

This bacon burger — the tremendous one, the BIGLY one — is the best one. Number one. Top of the leaderboard. I've had bacon burgers in every state. Twice. I had one at a roadside place outside Tucson where the cook didn't speak the entire time and the burger made me reconsider my life choices. This one is better. Other so-called chefs will tell you to chop the bacon up and mix it into the meat, and that is a CRIME against bacon. You don't bury the bacon. You DISPLAY the bacon. You put it on top, where it belongs, where it can crisp up and curl up and look absolutely magnificent, like a little bronze trophy you earned by being smart enough to make this burger. Tough guys, with the tears in the eyes, they'll see this burger and they'll get emotional. I've seen it happen. Multiple times. It's becoming a problem.

The secret — and I'm just going to tell you for free, no hoops, no upsell — the secret is rendering the bacon SLOWLY. Slow bacon. Patient bacon. You start it cold, you turn the heat low, you let the fat come out at its own pace, and you end up with bacon that is crisp all the way through but not brittle, not shattered, not those sad black shards diner cooks pass off as 'extra crispy.' Real bacon. Bacon the way the pig would have wanted, if it had been consulted, which it was not. Nobody disputes this.

This is the burger. This is the one. You make this on a Friday night, you put it on a plate, you pour yourself a beer or a Coke or a glass of water, doesn't matter, the burger is the star, the burger is always the star — and you take one bite and you understand. You understand what bacon is FOR. You understand what beef is FOR. You understand why the cow and the pig had to make their respective sacrifices. It all clicks into place. People will text you afterward and ask what you did differently. You can tell them. Or don't. I wouldn't. Some things are sacred. Save me a piece.