Look, I’m not going to lie. I chose this recipe because it was written by Betty Jones. She has upwards of seven recipes in this cook book. Do you know why? I don’t either, because I tell you what, she wasn’t even a member of the Episcopal church. She was a Baptist!

The story I’ve been told is that the Baptists don’t like the Holzhausers because we’re a drinkin’, cussin’, figtin’ people who’ve been intensely involved in keeping up the only bar in town for upwards of 80 years. I’ve also heard that every time the bar goes up for sale, the Joneses (i.e., the Baptists) get together and try to buy the thing so they can tear it down. The Baptist church is maybe 20 yards from the bar, up on a little hill. The rumor says they don’t like the bar being so close to the church. But, guess what? The bar was built way before the the church, so they can blame their early church members for that.

I don’t know the exact date, but by the year 1900, “the bar” was already an established general store. (one of two!) Back in the 80s, my parents just called it “the store.” During that time my grandparents owned it. You could buy some basic groceries there, eat something from the grill or frier, drink, fill up your gas tank, and play pool or an arcade game. I remember times, maybe even into the 90s, when Mom would call over there (there was a 25 year period when it wasn’t owned by a Holzhauser, by the way) and ask if they had any bread or cheese or some random food item. Since the closest town with an actual grocery store is at least 20 miles away, I imagine a lot of families saved themselves a forty mile round trip by grabbing some of those food staples on the dusty shelves.

Over time, as the place started selling fewer and fewer grocery items, my parents started referring to the “the store” as “the bar.” It’s interesting that their vocabulary changed to reflect the change of the business. So, they mostly call it the bar now. But there are times when Mom says, “D’ya wanna eat over’t the store?” and that strange feeling of nostalgia warms my chest and I can see, if only faintly, the store as it looked when I was a young kid.

________________________________

Anyway. The Baptist church was built in 1920 which is at least a solid two decades after the bar, so, deal with it, Betty.

I mean, I really don’t know if all that talk about the Joneses is true. I like to believe it, though. And I like to imagine all the scenarios by which Betty was able to sneak so many recipes into this cookbook compiled by Episcopalians and a lot of Holzhausers, to boot.

Besides wondering why Betty is so prolific in the book, the title, “Bacon Casserole” really caught my eye. Gross, but intriguing.

I’m not really a person who loves bacon the way that some people claim to love bacon. I like bacon. It’s just fine. But I don’t want it on my cheeseburger or my baked potato. If I’m ordering breakfast, I’m always going to choose sausage. So, when I was scouring the ingredient list, I made some mental notes about how I was going to change some things. To me, this is sort of begging to be like a bacon, chicken, ranch sort of flavor, so I set out to revise it that way.

The first step was getting some bacon. I headed to the store, put maybe 10 items in my cart, checked out, and then came home to relax for a while before cooking. As I was setting up the ingredients to take a picture for all of you, I realized the bacon wasn’t in the photo. I went to the fridge–no bacon. I wondered, horrified, if it had fallen to the car floorboards several hours ago when I got home. If so, it would be cooked already since it was 96 degrees out there. I checked the car and didn’t see it. I found the bag I’d used for the groceries and saw the receipt inside: I hadn’t bought the bacon. I KNOW I put it in the cart because when I was looking for it, there was a woman in scrubs right beside me who smelled like a whole pack of cigarettes and cheap perfume. I distinctly remember putting it in the cart, but I guess I didn’t scan it and accidentally put it away with the carts. Oops.

It was 5:56 by this time, and I knew Gaby would be home by 6:45. I ran out the door to buy the damn pack of bacon, and am happy to tell you I had dinner ready by 6:50. I remember thinking during the drive, if I still lived in Portland, I wouldn’t’ve been able to run out and get the thing.

Here’s how it went:

A pound of bacon seemed really gross to me, so I bought a 12 oz package. I didn’t want to just eat pasta with bacon, so I got a pound of chicken breasts, too. I also didn’t want elbow macaroni because I thought it’d be too small for the pieces of chicken, so I bought penne instead. I absolutely refuse to use canned mushrooms, and was happy to find some real ones that were going bad and on sale. The chicken was half off, too! I don’t love American cheese, but accidentally bought some slices a week ago thinking it was cheddar, so I decided to use those and the sharp cheddar cheese block we already had in the fridge. Also, who the hell uses 2 tablespoons of green pepper? I used a whole green pepper. But anyway. I give you:

Chicken not pictured.

Bacon and Chicken Casserole

Yields: 6 servings (because you’re going to each a lot)

12 oz bacon

1 pound chicken breasts (or whatever you want)

8 oz penne pasta (or any pasta you’d like)

1 green pepper, diced

2 onions, diced

8 oz or more of mushrooms, chopped

5 cloves of garlic (or a lot more), minced

8 oz of cheddar or American cheese

1 cup sour cream

1/2 cup milk

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce (is totally not necessary, but I had some and used it)

Ranch seasoning (totally optional, just maybe a teaspoon)

Start by cutting up the bacon and chicken into bite size pieces. Cook the penne according to directions. Cook the bacon for a few minutes, then add the onions and chicken along with the salt and pepper. Cook until the chicken is brown and mostly done (about 10 minutes). Throw in the green pepper, garlic, and mushrooms. Cook for 2 minutes or until pepper is mostly tender.

In a regular baking dish, mix in the cooked pasta, chicken and bacon mix, sour cream, cheese, and milk. If you’re using ranch seasoning and/or Worcestershire sauce, throw that in now. Cook at 350 for about 15 minutes.

The result is a thick, creamy, salty, delicious pile of pasta. Serve with some vegetables to help cut the intensity of casserole-ness. We cut up some of our garden tomatoes and topped them with our homemade pesto.

So far, this is my favorite dish. Cyrus wasn’t with us when I made it, so they were unable to comment. On a scale of 0-Mexican Casserole, Chef Gaby gives this: 8.5!

I ate all of the leftovers the next two days for lunch.

Let me know if you make it, how you make it, and what you think.

Up next week: Spaghetti Sauce by my grandpa “Buzzy” Holzhauser.