TIFU by experimenting with microwave cooking and horribly underestimating the raw power of my Swedish grandmother’s microwave

I put raw bacon into the microwave. I don’t want to talk about that part.

I put it on one of my grandma’s nice little plates with flowers, expecting to see that happy orange paint job on the other side. I put a tiny bit of water on the plate and slapped the bacon down. I put it in the microwave for four minutes. It cracks and pops, all is good. Three minutes in, I hear a clank noise and my delicious pork amalgam of microwave radiation and super-heated water is masked by smoke.

I opened up the microwave, the plate had split in half under the sweltering heat, there was grease everywhere, and my bacon had been reduced into a shriveled up tar black mess.

I used tongs to remove it, but it held tight, fastened by fibers of cured meat that looked like and had the consistency of burnt hair and dried gutter mush. I threw it into the bushes and disposed of the fractured disc which its body had laid upon.

I had to clean the entire microwave which wasn’t actually that hard.

I then immediately did the exact same thing with less time and less water and actually got some really good bacon out of it.

TL;DR: microwaved bacon is mangled beyond recognition