Pay no heed to those who thoughtlessly proclaim bacon-inflected desserts "so over," or "so December 2008."

Pictured is one of the reasons why. This delicacy, known as Pig Candy, is the genius of one Rhonda Kave of Roni-Sue's Chocolates. What Kave has done is create a union as holy as that of peanut butter and chocolate or vodka and tonic: fried bacon, dipped in chocolate. And that's it.

It's a marriage that is astoundingly pure yet diabolically addictive and, thanks to the beauty of online retail, has inspired slavish devotion far beyond the Roni-Sue headquarters on New York City's Lower East Side. This photo hints at the promise and madness contained in each salty-sweet nugget. While the shutterbug's ability to restrain herself long enough to take the pic is admirable, the subject likely met its demise shortly after being immortalized for the enjoyment of drooling procrastinators everywhere.

[Via Flickr]

What is the deal with bacon lately?

Admittedly, it's not as if the delicious fruit of a smoked pig's belly was ever all that obscure; stlll, over the past few weeks, it has been gaining a fresh, and sometimes repulsive cultural relevance. A little over a month ago, Marisa McClellan covered The Bacon Explosion, a spicy, smoked, barbecue-basted brick of pure pork. Truth be told, the explosion is kind of like a bug zapper: terrifying and vaguely dangerous, yet attractive and deeply compelling. Worse yet, for those of us who don't have a meat smoker, the explosion's creators have put together an oven recipe.

As if this wasn't enough, over on RiffTrax Blog, Michael Nelson has announced his intention to eat nothing but bacon for an entire month. As he has struggled through February, a reader has produced a bacon effigy, dubbed FrankenBacon, to demonstrate the aftereffects of too much pork. For those of us who are sometimes haunted by the ghosts of our meat, FrankenBacon is actually a little scary.

Meanwhile, in my constant quest for the best boutique bonbons in New York City, I recently came across an article about Roni-Sue's Chocolates, a company in New York's Essex Street Market. Although Roni-Sue's carries a wide array of truffles and candies, I was immediately drawn to their pig candy. Basically crispy-fried bacon dipped in chocolate, this hearkens back to the sugar-crusted pig candy that my wife and I used to make.

Meanwhile, I'm getting that old carnival feeling--the same one I have when the halcyon call of the deep fryer draws me in with its promise of batter-fried Oreos and funnel cakes. Must...resist...the call...

Who am I kidding? I'll probably hit Roni-Sue's this weekend. On the bright side, maybe it will make it easier for me to resist the siren song of the Bacon Explosion!

A little more than a year ago, I fell all over myself after reading about Pig Candy. No, not those pig-shaped peppermint candies to which you take a tiny mallet and break open. I am talking about "candy" that is made from pork. At the time, the only place in LA that offered this "secret dinner-party hors d'oeuvre" was Lou, a wine bar in Hollywood.

Well, it has taken more than a year, but I finally got to Lou on Vine, and got to try Pig Candy, and friends, it is awesome. Really, it's nothing more than thick-cut bacon that's baked in the oven with brown sugar, but for some reason, popping these gems while sitting in a dark wine bar with a group of friends makes it so absolutely special.

If you want to make it at home, I found a "recipe" for it at the Virtual Weber Bullet.

"Pig candy." It sounds like it might be a piece of chocolate shaped like an adorably chubby porker. Perhaps made from spun sugar?

In this week's LA Weekly, a reader asked food writer Jonathon Gold about the stuff. Gold's reply was that pig candy is, indeed, made of...pig. It is thick-cut bacon baked with brown sugar until, pretty much, it's candied, I guess.

The craze for the dish started in Washington, D.C., however, in LA the only place to get pig candy is at a Hollywood wine bar, Lou (724 North Vine Street, Hollywood, CA (323) 962-6369). Not sure about its availability anywhere else.

A google search for "pig candy" comes up with recipes.