We’ve been silent on the blog lately as we plow through life. Normal stuff. Some unusual things here and there. And some giant boulders that we ran into full force. It’s a lot, sometimes. Just everything. It is a lot.

But then there was the giant slab of bacon that we made. All thanks to Charcutepalooza.

We didn’t know there was such comfort in cured meat. A constancy. A heft. An immovable force of fat and muscle, but mostly fat, that reminded us life continues, if changed in ways we can’t quite tell yet, and children laugh and dance and march around the house on your birthday while waving balloons and screaming, “Balloon Parade!” A whirling mix of giddiness and sugar and kisses and slow-leaking helium.

Wake up. Sharpen the knife. Cut the fat. Into the oven (stove top cooking tends to burn the bacon unpleasantly, but a 400 degreee oven was perfect). Crispy happiness.

Our bacon cure was a frenzy of haphazard luck. A giant pork belly. Kosher salt, warmth from the New Mexico Chile Powder left over from one of our pies. Raw sugar for depth of flavor. And because we weren’t smoking our bacon, some smoked paprika. Into a plastic garbage bag (I know, not the best choice, but we didn’t die). Two days into the cure, I saw some Grade B maple syrup leftover from a Melissa Clark pie. Into the bag and on to the belly. Fearless and potentially a disaster. 12 days in the fridge, rather long, but the pork was rather thick.

But this bacon, this Frankenstein monster of spice+sweet+salt. It was wonderful. Crave-worthy. Demanding an extra piece (or three) at every serving.

So what to do with all this bacon? We thought of using it to make Bacon Baklava from the Fat cookbook. Or candied bacon on top of a brown sugar pie. But all we wanted was straight-up crispy, fatty pleasure. In a world of constant change of late, we need our bacon pure and simple, if overly spiced.

Then truffled eggs entered our minds, and we couldn’t let it go. We looked into actual truffles, but the affordable ones looked sickly. So we went to an old standby of ours - truffle oil. Then a trip to Wine Library revealed truffled salt (thanks to the guys behind the cheese counter for helping us discover it). Earth and salt. A perfect finish with a drizzle of the oil. Heady indulgence. Exactly what we needed.

Here is the recipe, if it can even be called that: Two eggs per person. Whisked. A tablespoon of creme fraiche because it was there. Kosher salt. Pepper. Into a pan on medium-low. Oven-fried bacon. A quick dip of a Balthazar baguette into the bacon fat and on to the griddle to toast. Rub with garlic. Cook up the eggs, throw in some thyme. Place the eggs on the baguette. A sprinkle of truffle salt. Drizzle the oil. Two slices of bacon on top. Maybe four.

Do this for yourself. You deserve it.

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