When friends Kevin and Leanne ask me over to see how they make their own bacon, I don’t hesitate to accept their invitation.

Early on a Sunday afternoon I walk into their warm, sweet-smelling kitchen just as the timer goes off. Kevin pulls out a rack of tarts—leek, goat cheese and pancetta.

“I don’t use a timer,” says Leanne, the baker in the family “I go by smell.”

Kevin shows me the pork belly that will become the bacon. It’s already been cured, using Morton’s Quick Cure (a combination of salt, sugar, and nitrite). The slab isn’t as firm as Kevin thinks it should be, but he’s happy with it.

During the curing process, it’s been important to keep the temperature below 36˚F to allow bacteria to do its job. If the temperature is over 40˚F, this bacteria dies and harmful bacteria is invited to flourish.

Kevin says that without the use of sodium nitrate the bacon would look gray; with it, pink. People worry about the use of nitrates, but, says Kevin, it’s been used for hundreds of years to eliminate the chance of botulism. Corned beef, pastrami, and Montreal smoked beef have the highest concentrations of nitrites, but one would have to eat seventy-five pounds in one sitting for any detrimental effects. The benefits of nitrites outweigh any negative side effects.

He shows me how one side of the pork belly is meatier than the other.

“The leanness of bacon all depends on the particular animal,” he says. “Some just have more fat than others.”

Kevin’s interest in making his own bacon began after reading an article in Eat magazine about a guy who made his own. Traditionally, cured pork bellies were hung in smoke houses for two to three days, but those aren’t easy to come by these days.

While Kevin takes the pork belly to his new Weber smoker in the backyard, Leanne hands me a recipe to read and says, “We are making this.”

Stollen. A German Christmas tradition of sweet yeast bread packed with raisins, almonds and a ribbon of marzipan. I’m game. But she serves me tea (Murchies #10) and plate of Nanaimo bars before I’m given a job to do.

Meanwhile, in a mortar, Kevin grinds fresh fennel seeds from his garden with salt and lemon zest. He scores the skin of a boneless pork roast and rubs in the herb mixture before taking it out another door to the charcoal barbecue.

As Leanne mixes the flour and sugar for the bread, she says, “I like to follow a recipe, unless it doesn’t suit me.” And tells me to toss the rum-soaked raisins with some almond flour. I don’t see that in the instructions.

The day continues with Leanne and Kevin working around each other in the small U-shaped kitchen. Kevin’s tomato confit comes out of the oven as Leanne’s sour cherry pie goes in. It’s a dance they’ve done for years and their mutual respect for each other is evident as they confer over temperatures and ingredients.

The time comes for Leanne to knead the risen stollen dough and she sighs with delight as she touches the soft dough.

“This is why I bake,” she says. “I’ve never outgrown the wonder of watching dough rise in my mother’s oven. I love every step of this process. It’s amazing to me that I can take an inert ingredient like flour and turn it into something wonderful.”

This is how Leanne relaxes on a Sunday. She likes recipes that take time to make because it feels like an accomplishment when it’s done. “If you get chocolate chip cookies for dessert, it means what I originally planned didn’t work out.” And she’s learned from Julia Child to never apologize for something that doesn’t turn out.

Kevin places an aluminum container of fingerling potatoes, green beans, pea shoots, garlic, and asparagus in the center of the coals and then toasts bread on the grill. He invites us to take a piece of bread, smear a roasted garlic clove, add a roasted tomato and drizzle some oil on top. He serves us a glass of sauterne and I smile as I bite into the tomato mixture, the oil coating my lips. How can something that’s just a tomato taste this good?

Duck and orange terrine with red currant jelly, grapes, pancetta tarts, more tomato confit on grilled bread… stollen in the oven… pork roast on the bbq… bacon smoking …

“How many kinds of cookies to do you make for Christmas?” I ask Leanne.

“In a week?”

Turns out she makes four or five different types at any given time. “When Dec. 1 comes, oh man, I gotta get out the butter.”

“The oven’s been on all day,” Kevin says at 9 p.m., after we sit back, cleaning our plates of every last bit of sour cherry pie.

The warmth, I think, is perceptible on many levels.

Tomato Confit: Cut tomatoes in half and salt the cut side. Let side for 1/2 hour. Place tomatoes, cut side down, in a glass baking dish. Add peeled garlic cloves, bay leaf, fresh herbs (oregano or basil), and add enough olive oil to almost cover tomatoes. Bake at 300˚F for 30 minutes. Serve with grilled bread. Toss any leftovers with pasta and parmesan cheese.

Arlene Kroeker writes about food every Thursday in The Richmond Review. She may be reached at akroeker@aol.com.