Review : baconwave

Our Baconwave experience is a cautionary tale.

Jess and I woke up one Saturday morning. Hungry. We had a pound of bacon in the fridge. We had a trusty Emerson Baconwave in the spare bedroom closet.

It was time to nuke some hog.

We skewered each slice of extra-thick bacon according to the instructions and placed them in the heating tray. The directions stated to allow one minute of cooking time for each strip. In case math wasn’t our strong suit, the directions elaborated. “Allow a total of 14 minutes for 14 pieces. 6 pieces would equal 6 minutes.”

Conveniently, we had exactly 14 pieces of bacon, which spared us from having to figure out, algebraically, how long we would have to microwave three slices.

In case you were wondering, the magic number of minutes necessary to prepare three strips of bacon would be…

We set the microwave to full power for 14 minutes and went about with our lives.

On hindsight, it’s fairly simple to see our folly.

Here’s a picture of the box that the Baconwave comes in:

The color scheme and pattern just SCREAM late 70’s or early 80’s. They look similar to the hideous uniforms that the Houston Astros used to wear.

You remember… the ones that made even Strikeout King Nolan Ryan look like a complete choadbag

I’m no expert on antique microwave ovens, but I’d guess that they had comparably low watt output to current models. 600-700 watts, max.

Not to brag, but our oven has a significantly larger watt output… somewhere in the neighborhood of

As you might imagine, when the buzzer sounded, indicating that our bacon (the “world’s best bacon,” boasts the instruction booklet, as well as the little gold medal on the lower left-hand corner of the box) was ready, we opened the microwave door and…

Our tray looked like the faces of the Nazi soldiers in “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world!

When we tried moving the tray into the garbage, the liquid center caved in. This resulted in a pool of grease — similar to the one found on Jared Leto’s pillow case — covering the entire bottom of the microwave.

Our kitchen smelled like bacon for a full week following this incident. Although cooked bacon has a pleasant enough aroma (In fact, I’m wondering why Yankee Candle hasn’t introduced the fried bacon scent. Yet.), we were taunted and tortured by it, because we couldn’t enjoy any of the bacon that we’d cooked. Unfortunately, the molten tray had infused our bacon with more plastic than the copious amounts found in Nicole Richie’s tits.

In short, if you do decide to give the Baconwave a try, here are two nuggets of advice. First, cooking times may vary, and it’s much better to underestimate rather than overshoot. Second, when it comes to the nuker itself,

Always scope the Watts.

Where to Buy: Bacon Wave | The Official™ Shop

Price: $14.95 + S & H

Your microwave has an output of 1.21 Gigawatts? Did it come with a flux capacitor?: If it did, I think Jess and I would have gone back to 1992 and started the blog then.

(Photo sources: