Candied bacon conversion

I once held Savannah's feet while she was buried, body-deep, in an upright freezer digging for the buy two/get three free bacon special. Long story short:  We REALLY like bacon. You may now, guilt-free, stop reading this submission at this point as it revolves around our love of bacon and, as it turns out, how we will pay ANY price to obtain it.

I always insist on visiting the Connecticut town of Mystic whenever I visit Savannah because a) it was featured in a movie starring Julia Roberts (We once slightly altered a trip route to pass the church included in "Runaway Bride."), b) it has an awesome bookstore, Bank Store Books, where I fawn over their counter display of $50 pens (Today, I test-drove one...I almost said "pilot" for a pen pun...Responding to someone's philosophical writing of "I like fish," I wrote "Me, too." It was a magical experience.) and c) I like to watch the bridge raise and lower.

Last time I visited, I really wanted clam chowder and we accidentally went to the one restaurant in Mystic that didn't serve it. They had a great hot chocolate though so all was forgiven but THIS time, I was intent on the chowder. We scored window seats in the mostly empty restaurant ("To be fair, Mom," Savannah reminded me, "we arrived shortly after 11."), and the menu not only featured my favorite caprese salad but AVOCADO caprese salad! And that wasn't all. "Savannah," I exclaimed, "they have candied bacon here!" She wrinkled her face in response. Oh my. I still had MUCH to teach her.

Chowder. Yummy. Avocado caprese salad. Life-changing. Candied bacon for $12? A BARGAIN! "There are only four strips of bacon there," Savannah, still not completely converted, reported. I watched the brown-sugar syrupy glaze slowly drip off...like the icy condensation sliding down a frosty glass of Pepsi...only hot and sweet. "That's $3 a strip," the mathematician across from me calculated. She reached for one with the reluctance reserved for a home owner reaching for the door knob when a Jehovah's Witness comes a-knockin'. I sat there quietly, letting my bacon do the talking for me. And it had a LOT to say. Savannah ate the first one like the lady she'd been raised to be...carefully cutting it with a knife and bringing a modest-sized piece to her mouth. And then...all bets were off. She ravaged the rest like a half-starved hyena. "How have we not known about this before," she asked, eyeing my share. If only sharing the Gospel were this easy, I pondered. But maybe Savannah and I had been led to this almost-religious moment. Sure, it's not the a dark, mysterious cave that housed the Dead Sea Scrolls. Let's imagine a conversation where you introduce the subject of Jesus to a potentially reluctant listener but THIS TIME, you're armed. "I'd like to tell you about Jesus," you'd begin, "but first, would you like a strip of candied bacon?" BAM! Instant conversion!