Dancing Gangnam Style

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Smelling like winter candy apple isn’t a bad thing. I mean, I speak from the experiences I’ve had. I’m not trying to say that apples defy the laws of seasons by growing in the middle of winter or anything. Or that they’re as delicious as candy. But I will say this much: They’re more delicious than peaches.

I don’t like peaches.

Come to think of it, I’m not such a fan of apples, either. I mean, they’re all right if you’re into that sort of thing. But they’re certainly not equal to finer foodstuffs I can think of. They’re not steak, for instance, with juicy middles and deliciously charred outsides. And they’re not sushi, with wasabi-dunked deliciousness exploding like a flavor bomb in my mouth. Apples are also not bacon, with their smoky, salty flavor and a scent that wafts across entire county lines without shame. My mouth waters when I think of the aforementioned, but apples just don’t do it for me.

Maybe I’ve just not had the right apples?

I’ve heard of candy apples, toffee apples, chocolate apples, caramel apples, taffy apples, mint apples, poached apples, minced apples, baked apples, Martian apples, sauteed apples, stuffed apples, braised apples, charred apples, Cajun apples, stewed apples, creamy apples, apple pies, Viking apples, toy apples, wax apples, marinated apples, chewy apples, elegant apples, tart apples, sweet apples, bitter apples, Roman apples, Washington apples, and breakfast apples. Hmmm…

Bacon apples? Come to think of it, I guess I’ve heard of apple-smoked bacon. And that sounds pretty delicious. Maybe I’m biased, though? Do I need fatty meat stock to validate my fruit-tasting experience? Truth be told, I wouldn’t say no. But “need” is such a strong word, don’t you think?

Ah, whatever. I know you won’t judge me. You’re on my side, right? Right? Bacon!

Dancing Gangnam Style