Bacon has a way of waking up the plate. It’s the crunch that cuts through creaminess, the smoky salt that makes greens taste greener, the flavor that lingers just long enough to remind you why Southerners have treasured it for generations. Around here, bacon isn’t an afterthought — it’s part of the rhythm of the meal, the little spark that keeps you reaching for one more bite.
For us, bacon means just one thing. And that’s Benton’s.
Allen Benton has been curing hams and smoking bacon in Madisonville, Tennessee, since the 1970s. We love it because it’s everything bacon should be: cut to the perfect thickness so each bite has real presence, smoky the way good bacon ought to be—bold, confident, and proud to be that way. And it’s strong enough to stand up to whatever it’s paired with. Nobody wants shy bacon, and Benton’s has never been shy. It’s intense, it’s memorable, and it’s just the cherry on top of the sundae that Allen himself is a good guy — but everything else you need to know is right there in that perfectly crispy slice of flavor heaven.
At Tomato Head, we like to let bacon play against its opposites. In our Warm Bacon Salad, Benton’s crisp slices meet tender spinach and earthy mushrooms, all wrapped in the tang of warm poppyseed dressing. The tradition echoes the old Southern plate of kilt lettuce, where hot bacon drippings hit tender leaves and turn them into something both wilted and alive. The result isn’t just a salad; it’s a conversation of flavors, each one making the other more vibrant.
That harmony shows up again in the Benton’s Bacon∙Ham∙Italian Sausage Pizza. It’s a bold, generous pie that nods to the classic meat-heavy pizzas of roadside joints — only here, Benton’s signature smoke elevates the whole thing to a heady pitch. Each bite moves from salty to savory, chewy to crisp, with bacon as the anchor that makes the whole chorus sing.
And then there’s The Oh Boy. It’s a name and a promise — chicken, sun-dried tomato purée, Monterey jack, spinach, warm poppyseed dressing, and bacon, pressed into a sandwich that makes every ingredient matter. Each bite stacks contrast upon contrast: soft bread giving way to tender chicken, the creaminess of cheese against the bright tang of dressing, the leafy snap of spinach tucked between it all. And then comes the bacon — the crunch that cuts through, the smoky chew that lingers, the steady backbeat tying the whole bite together. It’s the punctuation mark, the punch line, the last word, the reason your eyes close in a savory reverie. If you’re not sure what the word toothsome means, the Oh Boy is a vocabulary lesson worth repeating.
Bacon has deep Southern roots, born of practicality and preservation, but it has always been more than sustenance. It’s flavor that carries memory with it — mornings at the stove, Sunday suppers, the smell that pulls you into the kitchen before you even know you’re hungry.
So here’s to the crunch, the chew, the smoke, the savor. To the way bacon can make a salad sing, a pizza hum, or a sandwich stop you in your tracks. And here’s to the truth we already knew: we don’t need a reason.
But we’re glad we’ve got bacon.