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I grew up eating what we called hunky bacon. The Hungarians call it szalonna. Its paprika-cured and double smoked. You can eat it raw, if you choose. Mom remembered an old fellow, a friend of her parents, making some in his own smoker. It was so tender you could spread it on bread, uncooked. Real imported gypsy bacon is available at Hungarian and other central European specialty deli's and butcher shops.
This way of handling bread and onion and bacon is a long established tradition. It was eaten on the range by Gypsy cowboys and shepherds. I've seen photos of a Hungarian herdsman in traditional costume. He was squatting before a fire, bread in hand, toasting a chunk of bacon over the flames.
We always made hunky bacon when we went camping. It's inherently a slow process, taking far more time for the cooking than for the eating. Plenty of individual attention is required for each sandwich. That doesnt sound attractive from a present day, time-harried perspective. But slow down. Imagine yourself sitting around a camp fire. The day is done, there is nothing to do, no where you need to be. It's time for slow, wandering conversation. Talk that meanders freely, following the promptings of the moment. No urgencies at all, nothing you need to attend to.
Pass branches around, sharpen one end. Give everyone some bread, onion, and bacon. Szalonna doesnt come pre-sliced. Cut some off of the slab, maybe three inches by half an inch, leaving the rind intact. Every half inch or so, slice through the face of the meat, almost to the rind. Youll probably have to poke a hole or two in the rind to fit your stick through. The thin sliced onion rests on the bread. Test your wisdom in choosing a section of fire. Hold the bacon there. Not too close, not too far away. Let the conversation wash over you. As the bacon cooks, touch bacon to bread to catch the drippings. Toast and touch, toast and touch. The rind will contract, the slices open, till the bacon is shaped like a coxcomb. There's no hurry, these things take time.
By now you can smell the bacon cooking. A different smell than any other bacon, a wonderful aroma. Eventually your bread is sodden with drippings. The bacon is shriveled and crisped and flecked with wood ash. Place it gently on the bread, wrap the bread around it. To really be traditional, clear your palate first with a shot of Slivovits. Now it's time to eat. There's not really much sandwich there. Be not dismayed, what it lacks in quantity it repays in quality. Besides, there's plenty more. More bacon, more fire, more discussion, more time. Once you've savored every bite, start another piece a-roasting.
There is a traditional knife for this work, the szalonnázó bicska. The literal translation is "pocket knife for bacon-eating". Ive never owned one, but I found this on the net. Alas, I can't figure out how to post it the picture.
https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=Gf0zwUw9lzXwNM&tbnid=1otEjAYzL666mM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkezmuvesajandek.com%2Fspd%2F133%2F&ei=lHufUZmCNuKliQLRsYG4BA&bvm=bv.47008514,d.cGE&psig=AFQjCNGA6yI-jkfrXorUtqJlnJfDawxi5g&ust=1369492745815850
This way of handling bread and onion and bacon is a long established tradition. It was eaten on the range by Gypsy cowboys and shepherds. I've seen photos of a Hungarian herdsman in traditional costume. He was squatting before a fire, bread in hand, toasting a chunk of bacon over the flames.
We always made hunky bacon when we went camping. It's inherently a slow process, taking far more time for the cooking than for the eating. Plenty of individual attention is required for each sandwich. That doesnt sound attractive from a present day, time-harried perspective. But slow down. Imagine yourself sitting around a camp fire. The day is done, there is nothing to do, no where you need to be. It's time for slow, wandering conversation. Talk that meanders freely, following the promptings of the moment. No urgencies at all, nothing you need to attend to.
Pass branches around, sharpen one end. Give everyone some bread, onion, and bacon. Szalonna doesnt come pre-sliced. Cut some off of the slab, maybe three inches by half an inch, leaving the rind intact. Every half inch or so, slice through the face of the meat, almost to the rind. Youll probably have to poke a hole or two in the rind to fit your stick through. The thin sliced onion rests on the bread. Test your wisdom in choosing a section of fire. Hold the bacon there. Not too close, not too far away. Let the conversation wash over you. As the bacon cooks, touch bacon to bread to catch the drippings. Toast and touch, toast and touch. The rind will contract, the slices open, till the bacon is shaped like a coxcomb. There's no hurry, these things take time.
By now you can smell the bacon cooking. A different smell than any other bacon, a wonderful aroma. Eventually your bread is sodden with drippings. The bacon is shriveled and crisped and flecked with wood ash. Place it gently on the bread, wrap the bread around it. To really be traditional, clear your palate first with a shot of Slivovits. Now it's time to eat. There's not really much sandwich there. Be not dismayed, what it lacks in quantity it repays in quality. Besides, there's plenty more. More bacon, more fire, more discussion, more time. Once you've savored every bite, start another piece a-roasting.
There is a traditional knife for this work, the szalonnázó bicska. The literal translation is "pocket knife for bacon-eating". Ive never owned one, but I found this on the net. Alas, I can't figure out how to post it the picture.
https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=Gf0zwUw9lzXwNM&tbnid=1otEjAYzL666mM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkezmuvesajandek.com%2Fspd%2F133%2F&ei=lHufUZmCNuKliQLRsYG4BA&bvm=bv.47008514,d.cGE&psig=AFQjCNGA6yI-jkfrXorUtqJlnJfDawxi5g&ust=1369492745815850
