The Rehabilitation Institute threw Bacon-Fest last Saturday, with proceeds from ticket sales going to the “nonprofit medical rehabilitation employment placement provider for children and adults with disabilities.” Tickets went from $20 (thanks, Groupon!) to $100 (VIP style — early admission, private beer stands, bathrooms, and access to an air-conditioned indoor area).
Seventeen “Pork Partners” — restaurants, catering companies and drink slingers from across the metro — converged on the northwest corner of 31st Street and Main and offered samples of bacon and various pork foodstuffs. Gram & Dun prepared country-fried and battered bacon on the spot and served the thick, salty pork with a cheddar-bacon biscuit and egg-yolk jam. Blanc Burgers + Bottles offered a modest pork slider — a pot roast, perhaps — on white rolls. “High on the Hog” sponsor Farmland passed out strips of bacon next to the main entrance. Oddly, these lines were the shortest.My mission was to judge eight original recipes submitted by Bacon-Fest attendees. Two other judges (a marketing manager from Farmland and a food blogger from western Kansas) and I sampled a range of dishes, including the eventual winner — the “Fat Is Good Bacon Cake” (a crumbly lemon johnnycake dessert that listed bacon fat as an ingredient) — and a sauerkraut, bacon and tomato salad (which I gave high marks for taste and originality).
I stuck a greasy finger in the top of a beautifully decorated peanut-butter-bacon cupcake to better taste the maple-butter frosting. The cake was delicious (and would take second place), but I’d soon regret that move.
“Hey, can you do that again?” a male photographer asked.
I cringed. Being in photos is as pleasurable an experience for me as lemon juice in a cracked cuticle. And being photographed eating after I’ve had a few beers? That’s my worst nightmare. But this was for charity, so I rolled my eyes and gave him the most lascivious frosting-and-tongue performance I could muster.
“Like that?” I asked sarcastically. He didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic anymore.
Other submissions included Rocket Dogs (fat chunks of chicken wrapped in bacon and dipped in a spicy tomato-based sauce), Bourbon Maple Bacon Jerky (a sticky, caramelized strip of dark matter that stuck to my incisors), Coconut Bacaroons (difficult to describe but a decent idea in theory), S’more Bacon (homemade pink pig-shaped marshmallows alongside a crumbly, marbly, nutty filling in a graham-cracker boat), and Spicy Bacon Mac and Cheese (a visually unappealing twist on comfort food that scored high on taste).Around 3 p.m., the judges were let loose. The sun was in full effect, the beer lines were clogged, and my fingers and hands were greased. I was feeling well-salted. But I was determined to fully experience Bacon-Fest. And a successful Bacon-Fest experience, I now know, involves three things: eating, drinking and taking breaks to sit in the dead grass and listen to the cover band (heavy on the Pink Floyd). Then repeat.
I scanned the vendors on the edge of the event space. Next to a table of bacon merch — bacon wallets, bacon bandages and pig figurines — was Coloplast, a Minneapolis-based developer of health-care products. I stared, wide-eyed, at a female catheter and hoped that its 2-inch green tube would never be inserted into my person.“Are you a nurse?” asked a man behind the display of medical goods, which sharply contrasted the gastric debauchery going on.
I shook my head. “I’m from The Pitch and I’m writing about the event today,” I said. I held up the catheter. “I’ve, um, just never seen one of these up close.” I stepped closer to him. “So, I’ve got to ask. How do you and these products fit into this Bacon-Fest scene, man?”
He handed me his business card. “These guys are my clients,” he said, thumbing toward the Rehabilitation Institute.
I doubt that Coloplast gained as many new clients as Fogo de Chao, Grandma’s Catering, Local Pig or Trezo Mare. But he was smart to be there, because at Bacon-Fest, you give till it hurts.
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