When I sit down and really think about it, I don’t think I eat nearly as much breakfast as I used to.

Pondering about my youth, I have a swarm of memories relating to this “most important” meal of the day. But, for one reason or another, this morning meal has eluded me greatly in most recent years. I really can’t put a finger on the exact reason why.

Perhaps, as time went on, I became more and more busy with mundane daily tasks that I previously never had to worry about (waking up early for work, cleaning up around the house, walking the dog, etc.) and that has, potentially, gotten in the way of my “breakfast time.” Who knows?

Regardless of the reasoning, there is one thing I know for sure: I miss it. I miss it a lot.

There are (obviously) a million different options when it comes to this pre-noon cuisine, but none reign more supreme than a solid “weekend” breakfast. Which, I understand may sound vague, but I am betting there are a healthy amounts of readers out there who instantly knew what I was alluding to. I’m more than happy to wax poetic about these beloved renditions of exorbitant breakfasts with a smile on my face.

When I say “weekend” breakfast, I am talking about those meals that wake you up with their intoxicating aromas. Much like Pepe Le Pew would levitate, via his undying love (and questionable horniness), scent trails of waffles, pancakes, and eggs would pull me out of bed, and somehow, before I knew it, I was plopped down at the table with a plate of heaven being slid in front of me. These breakfasts were always the best.

The pancakes seemed fluffier than usual. The syrup tasted sweeter than any candy confection Willy Wonka could ever create. The eggs sported a more optimistic yellowish hue than their weekday counterparts. Everything was working in perfect culinary unison to create this sort of euphoric sense memory that I will never forget. But, as impeccable as these scents and flavors were, there was one particular part of these breakfasts that I consider, to this day, to be one of the best foods in the history of mankind.

That item, my fellow stoners, is everybody’s favorite: bacon.

Ah, bacon.

Thank you for being you. Your salty and savory demeanor always puts a smile on my face. The way you upgrade every meal you grace with your presence is truly unbeatable. I will forever be indebted to you, and your angelic scent and flavor profiles. God bless you, bacon.

I don’t know about you, but bacon was a rare treat that would only show up in my house on the weekends, if at all. When it did, my entire family made sure to relish in every single bite we got to enjoy. Even at a young age, I knew that there was no way bacon could be any better.

Then cannabis entered my life.

That’s right, folks. I have somehow found a way to kick this already top-shelf pig product up a whole other notch.

Are you sitting down? Because I am about to share a recipe for Marijuana-Infused Bacon that may just leave you faint with excitement. Before continuing on, how about you pull up a chair, fire up a bowl (or joint), and allow your taste buds to ready themselves for the amazing THC treat that awaits them.

That is it. All you need to make Marijuana-Infused Bacon can be found in the title of this phenomenal breakfast accouterments. To be fair, you can’t just toss a bunch of frosty nugs on top of a few slices of bacon and call it a day. There’s a somewhat tactile process that needs to take place before you can start getting stoned during breakfast. But, hey, that’s what I’m here for.

Also, grab a pen to jot down the following “massive” list of necessary ingredients: