I have a vivid memory from when I was a boy, of the distinctive smell of fried bacon in my mom’s parents house in Williamsville. I always expected my house to smell like that when I fried bacon, but it never has. But Jackie got some fancy dry-cured bacon (from the same place her mom used to get country hams), and for the first time fixing breakfast in my house gives it the same wonderful smell as my grandmother fixing bacon in her house.