The Hormel company has developed a bacon-scented face mask. The company created “breathable bacon” masks to promote its “black label” bacon, and a limited number of the masks, one of which is shown above, will be distributed, for free, to people who signed up for a chance to be selected for a mask on the Hormel website and are chosen to be one of the lucky recipients.
Alas, if you haven’t signed up for the bacon mask lottery already, you’ve missed your chance. According to the CNN article linked above, the contest closed on October 28.
We’ve already seen lots of designer masks in the mask market, so I suppose scented masks were inevitable. On the widely accepted theory that a little bacon makes everything better, experimentation with a bacon-scented face mask was inevitable. Can milk chocolate, peanut butter, and chili scented masks be far behind — if they haven’t been introduced already? And I suppose you can argue that a bacon-scented mask serves a scientific purpose: since one of the most definitive symptoms of COVID-19 is loss of sense of smell, a heady, bacon-scented mask could serve as a kind of early warning system. If you couldn’t smell your mask anymore, you would know it is time to go get tested.
I wouldn’t want a bacon-scented mask, which seems like it would get old pretty darned fast. Still, you have to admire Hormel’s initiative. Who’d have thought that 2020 would see giant leaps in the design — and smell — of face masks, and the exploration of new frontiers in everyday exposure to the wonders of bacon? It’s just further proof that necessity is the mother of invention.
Recently Kish and I went to a brunch buffet. One of the heated chafing dishes held “applewood smoked bacon.” Last week when I went out to lunch, my cheeseburger was topped with “applewood smoked bacon.”
“Applewood,” “smoked,” and “bacon” have become inextricably linked. No one has plain old Oscar Mayer anymore. No, it has to be “applewood smoked bacon.” It’s become as ubiquitous on restaurant menus as quinoa and kale.
The prevalence of applewood on our menus, adding just the right smoky flavor to our favorite fatty meat, raises questions. First, why is it called “applewood” instead of just “apple”? It’s the wood from the apple tree, sure, but nobody calls the wood from the pine tree “pinewood” or the wood from the oak tree “oakwood.” “Applewood” sounds like a made-up word that was invented precisely because a focus group decided it sounded upscale and would appeal to restaurant goers.
Second, exactly how much “applewood” is there? Americans consume a lot of bacon, all of which apparently must now be smoked with “applewood.” I’m concerned that Johnny Appleseed’s hard work is being chopped down and our national strategic reserve of apple trees is being devastated by our ravenous demand for “applewood.” This is another good reason to support the efforts of “Emily Appleseed.”
I’m as big a fan of bacon as anyone, but I’d like to save a few apple trees for the next generation. I’d be perfectly fine if my next rasher were smoked with “cherrywood,” or “peachwood,” or even “orangewood.” Heck, I’d even make the ultimate sacrifice and settle for sowbelly in its plain, unadorned state.
Horrors! We’ve put up with a lot in this country: high unemployment, a crappy economy, even Emmy Awards being presented to shows that no one has ever heard of. But . . . a bacon shortage??? Isn’t that asking a lot of mainstream America? How are we going to have state and country fairs without bacon to contribute to deep-fried bacon, chocolate-covered bacon, and bacon ice cream? What are we supposed to eat for breakfast? What other foodstuff tastes as succulent wrapped around a scallop, served with scrambled eggs, or covered with brown sugar?
Forget about investing in gold, silver, or other precious metals — it’s time for the savvy investor to go long, long, long in pork bellies. America runs on bacon!