Wednesday, June 03, 2009

We'll Meat Again


When was the last time you had SPAM? Not email junk but the processed luncheon meat that is still a national joke?

Well, if you were chez F-C last night, you would have been in for a treat. It caught my eye in Waitrose at the weekend and so I popped a can in the trolley, never expecting to eat it. Like tins of morello cherries in syrup or jars of Spanish peppers in chili oil, it could sit there for all eternity. The figs in port from Chrismas '93 are still there somewhere, I'm sure.

But with nothing in the fridge apart from a bit of ropey old salad, eat it I did. Mrs F-C turned her nose up of course, fearing gristle, but when she saw the miniature pink slabs nestling among my radishes, she couldn't resist a nibble. And she was pleasantly surprised. It's actually really tasty.

I've always been a fan since childhood. My grandma used to do SPAM on toast, which meant slices were put on already toasted bread under the grill, where it would brown slightly. It was delicious. I didn't get that far as the whole can went, so I'll be buying it again for that very purpose.

I'm not sure why people think it's so hilarious. Is it Monty Python? Did they single-handedly kill it off as a relevant foodstuff with their Spam Song? Because it's nothing more than a punchline these days. Spamalot doesn't help its cause either. People think it's nasty old factory-produced compressed bits of eyelid and trotter fat. Which may be true of course, but as for it being horrible and tasteless, I beg to differ.

Take my advice and try some. Today!

15 comments:

Cocktails said...

Come on, just admit it - another reason you're buying it is for the chance to win that spam car on the tin!

Five-Centres said...

Who wouldn't want to be seen in the Spam car?

Beth said...

There's nowt wrong with a bit of spam. I like it diced and added to scrambled egg, but then I am pretty sophisticated.

A Kitten in a Brandy Glass said...

I always liked Spam at school (especially in fritters!), and never understood why my mother refused to buy any for home consumption. This was particularly galling given that she DID make us eat Olde Oak tinned ham (bleurgh) and pies made of that horrid tinned steak stuff that smells exactly like dog food.

Planet Mondo said...

My mum regularly gives Spam to my two tots when they stay over at hers - they love it.

I'm interested to know FC, do they print the nutritional information on the tin (and any chance of run down) Does it open with one of those twisty key things?

Five-Centres said...

I didn't dare look at the nutritional content, PM, but it opens with a ring pull that actually impossible to pull all the way over without breaking.

Mmm, scrambled egg and Spam, Beth, that is the height of culinary sophistication. I'm not an egg fan, so anything added to it is fine by me.

Spam fritters, Kitten, of course! After Spam on toast that's my next challenge.

A Kitten in a Brandy Glass said...

If you're feeling particularly avant-garde, FC, you could even reimagine them as Spam tempura...

Five-Centres said...

That's definitely going on the menu at Spindles.

Chris Hughes said...

I used to like those thin, round slices of pink "meat" with the "egg" in the middle. What was that called? Can you still buy it?

Five-Centres said...

Don't know what that is Chris, but clearly it's a very poor man's gala pie.

Ishouldbeworking said...

Spam and Piccalilli sandwiches used to be my idea of heaven. Like a sort of savoury Battenburg, they were.

I may have to re-investigate.

Dan W said...

Assuming this link still works (no YT at work)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Te3ljC29nHU

this is a great, but actually terrible, advert for Spam that features one of the saddest anniversary dinners in history. Don't let this happen to you.

Five-Centres said...

I couldn't make that work, but I think I remember it. Much as love Spam, if Mrs F-C even thinks of serving it up for any special occasion, we're through.

A Kitten in a Brandy Glass said...

I think Chris is thinking of "pork and egg roll". I remember seeing it sold in slices at the oh-so-avant-garde deli counter in Presto in the eighties.

Valentine Suicide said...

"...when she saw the miniature pink slabs nestling among my radishes, she couldn't resist a nibble"


That's almost obscene?

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