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I grew up in a Kosher home, which meant I couldn’t eat pork. My mother had a modern approach, and there were exceptions. We were allowed to partake of barbecued spare ribs in a Chinese restaurant. And whenever I went for sleepovers at my friends houses, I hoped there would be bacon and eggs for breakfast. These days, I’m no longer kosher, because it’s hard to imagine life without prosciutto.
Handmade bacon rug by Surfacewerks [1]