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August 6, 2012
There is a plaque hanging on the wall of the dining room. Not so much a plaque, but more like a mixed media collage mounted on a varnished plank of cedar. What makes it seem like a plaque, an award of some sort, is the engraved rectangle of brass situated below the strip of bacon and the shiny chrome fork. When the waitress arrives I canít take my eyes off of the thing. She describes the special of the day -- a local fish Iíve never heard of -- but the single slice of bacon, a single fork, consumes me.