When I was 6 years old, my family took a trip to Montreal. Before we left, I asked my father what Canada would be like. “It’s almost the same as here, but just a little different,” he said. “Instead of breathing in and out, they breathe out and in. And you know how you swing up and down on the swing set? In Canada, the little boys swing down and up.” Okay, so my father was messing with me. But I’ve come to think of his explanation as a brilliant description of how Canada is just slightly different from America. And one of those differences involves bacon.

You’ve no doubt heard of Canadian bacon – it’s available at many supermarkets and is a key component of an Egg McMuffin. You may also know that it’s made from lean pork loin (also called the “back”) that’s smoked and sold fully cooked, unlike American bacon, which is made from the hog’s fatty side or belly, dry-cured, and sold uncooked.

But here’s what you probably didn’t know: The Canadian bacon you see in America is nowhere to be found in Canada. In fact, it originated in England. And while Canadians do have their own kind of bacon, it’s almost unheard of here in America.

Confused? So was I when I went to Toronto a few weeks ago and visited the wonderful St. Lawrence Market, where all the butchers were selling something called peameal bacon. It appeared to be lean, raw pork with a crispy coating that looked like breadcrumbs but turned out to be cornmeal. Some places sold it presliced, others as whole loins, and one place – the Carousel Bakery – had a long line of people queuing up for grilled peameal bacon sandwiches.

I joined the line and got a sandwich myself, which tasted a bit like crispy grilled ham – very good. This merited further investigation.

Bacon history turns out to be tricky, and the word “bacon” itself is less specific than you might think. The word derives in part from the Common Germanic bakkon, which was a general term for pork. This may explain why bacon means different things to different cultures.

Although the bacon timeline is somewhat spotty, here’s what I’ve been able to piece together: During World War I, there was a pork shortage in England, so the Brits began importing pork from Canada, much of which they turned into side bacon (made from the belly) and smoked back bacon (made from the loin – think of the larger side of a bone-in pork chop). Some folks called this Canadian bacon, and the name stuck even after the Britons went back to using their own pork.

At some point somebody in England got the idea to export the smoked back bacon to America, where it caught on as a niche product. The Canadian moniker came along for the ride and became misinterpreted as a regional preparation style. So “Canadian” bacon first came here from England, and today it’s all made in America (which is why it’s often labeled “Canadian-style,” which is also inaccurate but at least makes it clear that it’s not imported from Canada). Most Canadians have never seen it, tasted it, or heard of it.

Meanwhile, back in late-1880s Canada, another kind of bacon had become popular: Pork loins that were cured in a salt/sugar pickling brine and then rolled in crushed yellow peas, which helped seal the cure and keep bacteria out. This became known as peameal bacon.

Later, probably in the 1930s, the peameal was replaced by the more readily available cornmeal (the advent of home refrigeration had obviated the peameal’s anti-bacterial effect by this point anyway). But Canadians have continued to refer to the product as peameal bacon, adding one more layer of confusion to an already tangled situation. The product is popular throughout Canada, not only as a breakfast side dish but also as a hot sandwich meat and as a dinner roast.

It was against this backdrop that a Canadian engineer named Ken Haviland moved to Michigan in 1998 and went to a supermarket in search of his beloved peameal bacon. “I asked for Canadian bacon, and they came out with this piece of smoked meat,” he said. “Meanwhile, when I described peameal bacon, they had no idea what I was talking about. That’s when I got the idea to do this.”

By “this,” Mr. Haviland is referring to the Real Canadian Bacon Co. (55 East Long Lake Road, Suite 429,Troy, Mich., 866-222-6601, www.realcanadianbacon.com), which appears to be the only American source for peameal bacon. He imports his pork loins, already brined for two days and rolled in cornmeal, from one of Canada’s biggest meat packers and sells it two ways: pre-sliced and as small loin roasts. Up until now he’s been concentrating on mail-order and the hotel trade, but he’s about to finalize some deals that will make the product available in stores.

It’s good stuff. Fried up in a skillet with a little butter, the slices come out tasting a bit like ham, but not as salty, with the cornmeal adding a hint of texture and earthiness. The meat is very lean (its nutritional profile is much closer to chicken breasts than to fatty American bacon) but still flavorful. It’s good as a breakfast side, on a burger, or as part of a peameal BLT.

The effect of the brining is more readily apparent in the roasts, whether cooked whole or cut into boneless pork chops. The thicker portions have a slightly pickled taste that’s oddly addictive. This flavor can be accentuated with a mustard sauce or counterbalanced with a sweet fruit sauce or a maple glaze. Either way, the net effect comes off as familiarly porky yet novel – a winning combination.

As you’d expect, some of Mr. Haviland’s customers are homesick Canadian expats. “But we also sell to Americans who’ve been to Canada, enjoyed the product, and then can’t find it once they’re back in the States,” he said. His biggest challenge has been cutting through the confusion and misperceptions created by the misnamed “Canadian” bacon.

Despite such frustrations, Mr. Haviland is convinced the market will grow as more people discover his product. “I knew I had something when I brought a peameal roast to a party here in Michigan and someone else brought a Honey-Baked ham. The roast was gone in about four minutes – people just dug in and kept taking another slice and another slice. Meanwhile, the ham just sat there.”

Inspired by all this bacon talk, I called Dan Philips, who likes to call himself Captain Bacon. And with good reason: His company, the Grateful Palate (888-472-5283, www.gratefulpalate.com), administers the Bacon of the Month Club and sells about 30 different types of artisanal bacon. His product line includes one kind of smoked “Canadian” bacon – which is rich, savory, and wonderful – but no peameal.

Mr. Philips said he’s never had a customer ask for peameal bacon. “Frankly, I don’t think it has much of a future here. But that’s probably evidence of my insular, arrogant American thinking – maybe we’ll try some in our next catalog and see what happens. Captain Bacon is aware of his limitations and is willing to learn.”

That’s certainly heartening. But while learning is generally a good thing, I’ve decided not to tell my father about the complex intersection of Canada and bacon. It’s all so convoluted, he might start telling people that Canadians only breathe with one lung at a time, or that the little Canadian boys swing sideways.