Summer food readings...

An authentic description of a summer activity called Szalonnasütés (means "roasting bacon" in Hungarian) from a book printed in 1971 titled 'The Cuisine of Hungary' by George Lang.

First, a level place must be found. Then wood and twigs are gathered and a fire built. While the fire is kindling, the man selects wood for spits, sharpening both ends. One end, for the bacon, will have a longer point and the bark taken off. The other end will be sharpened slantwise for sticking into the earth should he wish to stop the roasting for some reason. He then cuts two slices of bread lengthwise. Considering the size and shape of a Hungarian country bread loaf, we should mention that the length of the ''slices'' will be well over a foot, and the thickness will be about seven inches—not quite like the bread one puts into the toaster, west of Hungary. He now starts toasting the giant cuts of bread by propping them up near the fire. Meantime, he cuts off a half pound of bacon in an oblong shape, puts it on the wooden spit making sure that the end of the stick does not protrude. Holding the spit in his left hand, he makes short, half-inch scores in the bacon with great care. He also makes three incisions lengthwise so that the side of the bacon will be nice and "checkered." He turns over the bread and toasts the other side. He then cuts the opposite side of the bacon the same way. He makes a deep cut in the skin of the bacon (which is always left on) and this part of the ritual is finished. He takes a seat on a log, and holding the toasted bread, he begins to roast the bacon over the fire very slowly, moving it from left to right. By now the fire should have burned down and have no flame. The bacon begins to sizzle and the drippings fall heavily into the embers. The fire picks up and flames. Our man now takes the toast with his left hand and stretches it toward the fire and holds the bacon on the skewer with his right hand directly over it so that the drippings will fall onto the toast. When the bacon shrinks to the size of his palm and starts to glitter, he bites into it and tastes it, then continues roasting. The incisions begin to open up, and the flow of the drippings increases. He leans the skewer at an angle so that the fat continuously drips onto the bread. With the point of a knife he pricks the bacon and squeezes it to get more of the fat out. Now the bacon is beautifully red and ready to eat. (To allow it to get black is a shame; no one likes to eat 'gypsy/' as burned bacon is called.) He sticks the spit into the earth, gets up and stretches himself. He cuts some more bread, cleans a big onion, pulls out the skewer from the earth and pours a little water from a pitcher onto the bacon to wash off any ashes. He places the bacon on the bread, pulls out the skewer and slowly, deliberately, with an unhurried dignity, starts eating. His right hand holds his knife, alternately cutting off little pieces of the bread, onion and bacon, which are held between different fingers of his left hand. It is quite amazing how clean his hands remain.