I thought so too, until I lived outside the US.
Most Americans know bacon as it comes from the grocery store; in little stripey strips, pre-cut and pre-packaged in the refrigerated section. Sometimes it’s smoked, sometimes it’s got a maple or honey flavor, and at all times it is SO GOOD.
Then I moved to the UK and ordered a bacon sandwich.
I got a ham sandwich. That was not bacon! It wasn’t even Canadian bacon. It was a fried up chunk of ham. Where were my crispy, salty stripes?
And now we’re in Brazil where bacon is bacon again, although unless I want to pay a fortune at a specialty shop, I have to slice it myself.
Have you ever tried to slice a whack of pork belly? It’s not easy. I thought my big knife would glide right through it, but I needed a bit more control so I ended up using my smaller knife. I can tell you I will only be eating thick slices from now on. This was the best I could do.
It’s a bit messy, but I’ll take it.
So this is one more adjustment to living in a new country. One more little thing that is just a bit weird, but not really a problem. One more reminder that life is huge, and messy, and has differences we never dreamed of, and will never know about until we get out of our own holes and take a look around.
It’s just bacon, but it’s more than that too.
Now, please excuse me while I go cook up some of that bacon for dinner. All that slicing made me hungry!