This year I've been a first-time attendee at long-time food festivals for two reasons: First, to get my almost-4-year-old daughter out of the house on nice days; and second, to support the local food festival scene.
When I heard a BaconFest was in the works I volunteered to help because I'm all for the success of new food festivals in my area. Within the volunteer form I listed my skills (writing, editorial, blogging, etc.). A day or two before the event I received an email that I was assigned to a Bacon Station, whatever that meant. And on that day, I showed up at Bristol Motor Speedway, where the event transpired.
Other volunteers didn't. So instead of "enjoying the festival" from 10am-2pm when my shift at the bacon station started (at 2pm, that is, if that earlier time span wasn't clear), I expedited and served bacon at a concession stand. It wasn't ordinary bacon. Some was jalapeno bacon. Some was maple bacon. Some was apple cide bacon, and some was... Oh, I forget. It's all a blurry bacon nightmare. And the shame is that all that bacon grease went to waste. Imagine the gravy it could have made.
There is such a thing as too much bacon, after all, especially after standing on concrete floor in a hot kitchen, a kitchen whose working environment is hotter than the outside temperature. I grew dizzy from twisting like a ser-vi-tron from stainless steel serving table to concession window repetedly to keep up with the folks demanding bacon.
Serving the public is what I do in my day job, so that was a breeze. Yet, in my day job, I'm a font of knowledge. When these folks asked me questions, I hated being dumb, not knowing the answers. So that was an irritation:
Where is the water fountain?
Where can I buy this bacon?
But, we all know that if librarians ran everything the world would be in a much different place, now wouldn't it?
I spent a fifteen minute break in my car with all my air conditioning vents pointed at my hair so that I wouldn't resemble someone still wearing an unfortunate 80s wet mousse look.
There were food vendors present. There were artists selling their wares. And I heard ocassional snatches of music. I spotted an accordionist whose playing I ached to hear. After the fact, I saw photos of a hog calling contest and a Man V. Bacon contest wherein men consumed quantites of bacon quickly.
But, mostly I remain stunned. However, troubling my experience was, it was good that I had it. Never have I been more clear about what I will and will not do for bacon; What my body can and cannot do for bacon; Where my talents lie for bacon. And my old, tired body took at least a day to recover from standing on its feet for 4-5 hours, nonstop. Whine, whine, whine: I know, if the sad old thing was used to it, no problem.
Ian said that some of his co-workers attended and remarked that they had a baconlicious time (okay, they don't talk like that, but if they could, they would; it was more like Grunt, Snort, Snuffle...). So, that's fantastic. I think the best part of the day was being a bacon pusher. We were told to give it away, and I told folks to take as much as they'd like and come back for seconds, thirds. And that the rest would be donated to Second Harvest, our local food bank.
Recent Comments