The Best BLT Ever (or So Far)

I made the best BLT I've ever had this summer. It was very nearly transcendent. I'm afraid I did not get a picture. I sort of regret it. But I was too busy enjoying every last succulent morsel. Besides, I am not the Pioneer Woman.

Here is the recipe.

• Make bacon. Preferably something thick, and make sure there are at least four full strips per sandwich. Reserve some bacon grease; waste not, want not.
• Thinly slice a small onion and some garlic. Saute until lightly brown in the reserved bacon grease.
• Slice up a garden fresh tomato.
• Slice up a garden fresh cucumber. Make sure these don't get too thick.
• Toast two slices of bread. The bread is a bit player in this sandwich. I'm not geeking out on the bread. I once thought Texas Toast was going to be the ultimate, but it was too much. It was hogging the spotlight from the marquee players bacon and tomato. We're back to regular, generic bread.
• Let it begin!
• Put a thin layer of mayonnaise on the first slice. I definitively prefer the olive oil mayo. If you choose another, I won't judge you for being wrong. Someday I will make my own mayo, like I am making my own peanut butter, but that is a different post for a different day.
• Artistically and carefully dump the sauteed onions and garlic onto the mayo. The mayo should help adhere the sauteed goodness to the bread and hold it into the sandwich. Things might get crazy, and any bit of structure helps.
• Break two bacon strips in half. If you used full length bacon strips and normal sized bread, the four bacon halves should make one layer of bacon.
• Layer on at least one layer of red, juicy, garden fresh, grown with love, watered with care, harvested hastily while fighting off hordes of mosquitoes, tomato. Oh so good. This is seriously one of the reasons God invented summer. And if one layer is good, two is oooooh my! Words fail. But the sandwich is getting precariously tall already and we're not done yet. Do what you can safely do.
• Layer on a layer of the thinly sliced cukes. These do need to be moderately sliced or the sandwich might just give up on you here. You played all your cards at tomato, so you'll have to hedge a little at the cucumber.
• At this point we have to mention that, yes, we have dumped the lettuce. Going to the cukes retains the green aspect of lettuce, but it significantly raises the bar on crunch. Lettuce has been hereby relegated to salads, where, frankly, it belongs.
• Wow, it turns out I have some strong food opinions.
• You've still got two bacon strip left, so break those bad boys up and layer on a second layer of bacon. A sandwich is filling between two slices of bread, but we're doubling down and sandwiching our fresh tomato between bread and bacon! Take that KFC!
• You're almost home. Drink a glass of lemonade and get back in the game son!
• Trust me on this one. I didn't believe it either, but this is the real deal. Take the second slice of toast, and spread on a layer of good peanut butter. Put the mayo down, and pick up the peanut butter. Not the kind with sugar. That shouldn't even be in your house! Get the kind with two ingredients - peanuts and salt (if there's three, the third had better be peanut oil!).
• I know, most of you are hung up on the last bullet. Don't be. Put your blind faith in me and try it. It's what I had to do. The results defy explanation, but it works. Just. Try. It. You can thank me later.
• Place PB'd bread on top to complete the sandwich. Use both hands. 9 O'clock and 3 O'clock. Take a bite. Close your eyes. Exhale slowly. Chew carefully and watch the kaleidoscope of flavors. Swallow if you must. Wow.

And there you have it. The most amazing BLT to date (with insincere apologies to the L).

And no, if you haven't gathered by now, Julie did not author, or authorize, this post.

I leave you now with a blurry picture of someone else's [inferior] BLT.