The candied bacon made in the previous post is as versatile as regular bacon. My friend and culinary classmate Sonia suggested making a cake ball of corn bread, rolled in maple frosting and topped with said candied bacon. She is a genius.

I did something a little simpler, but definitely worth trying. Make popcorn (the real way, on the stove. Or if you can find micrwave popcorn with no salt or flavorings, that’s fine, too) and toss with finely chopped fresh rosemary, melted butter and crumbled or diced candied bacon. Season with S&P to taste.

I don’t know who to thank for contrasting sweet with savory and balancing the two in a single dish. I can’t even take credit for inventing candied bacon. I can, however, claim responsibility for the candied bacon I made last night.

Lay bacon slices (I prefer thick-slice) on a cooling rack over a baking sheet. Sprinkle generously with brown sugar and freshly ground black pepper. Bake in a 425-degree Fahrenheit oven for 10-15 minutes, or until crispy.

This is a prime example of a food that demands you take off your pants. Eat the candied bacon alone or get creative and add to other recipes. (Tune in to tomorrow’s post where I tell you about my bacon popcorn experience.)

Lately, it seems that dinner is more pauper than princess. Bread and water are the chief components of my hasty late-night meals, and, to add a touch of class, I consume them while in my underwear. The bread is taking over, and I’m a slave to its expansion.

One of my favorite veggies, Brussels sprouts are quirky, adorable, stinky and–gulp–healthy. They are surprisingly versatile, but for this preparation, I stuck to simple.

Steam the Brussels sprouts whole until tender. Saute over high heat in brown butter, adding thinly sliced garlic about halfway through. Once the garlic is golden brown and the outer leaves of the sprouts have blistered, season with S & P and be done with it.

I don’t need to go on about the flavors of autumn. We all know about cinnamon and root vegetables and pies and roasts. Every year kitchens are taken hostage by the warm flavors of the season, and mine is no exception.

After a red wine, braised meat-type of a night, I finished everything off with sweet potato custard, and I used this recipe to do it. I swapped the canned pumpkin for canned sweet potato puree, added vanilla extract because it seemed logical, and skipped on the topping out of sheer laziness. It was too rich when it was warm, but served out of the fridge with a dollop of fresh whipped cream, it was the perfect dessert for a chilly fall night. To steal the words of my dinner date, who, by the way, ate this in his underwear with me, “It tastes like autumn, in a bowl.”