Here the bacon grease goes into washed out cans in the fridge. Then usually used to start a stubborn fire but mostly lately schmeared on stale rye bread for the wild critters to enjoy.
Back in the 80s, we used to go "cruising" around my Dads neighborhood on garbage night, looking for good finds for the farm house. My Dads GF for years was a diplomat with the Brazilian Consolate. (sp?) Red plates and all. Funy how she shopped at places (Holt Renfrew) that sold $80 T-Shirts (back in 82) but enjoyed this weekly ritual.
I guess if we ever got questioned we could have claimed diplomatic immunity, but man, her Boss would have been shocked at this behavior.