It might have been the artificial lighting, or the side-winding grocery cart, or a fever-induced epiphany, but I found myself in the canned food aisle at the Hannaford staring at yellow and blue containers of SPAM like they had never been there before. A traumatic memory rushed back and I mused over how much time had passed since I had eaten it – could it really be as horrific as I remembered?
When I was growing up, my mother would coat an entire block of canned SPAM in a slurry of yellow weenie mustard and brown sugar, bake it in the oven, and force my siblings and I to eat it. (Oh, the fits and wails!) It remains one of the great food-related traumas of my young little life; right up there with watching the preparation of frog’s legs from bullfrogs caught at the cow-pond on my cousin’s farm. I won’t get to that story today, but who knows? There may be recipe testing in the near future.
It also brought up images of a Food Network segment featuring chef Sam Choy preparing stir-fry and a type of sushi-sandwich called musubi (moo-sue-bee) made with SPAM. It had appeared edible, but it might be that everything looks better on television and in Hawaii, and in retrospect.
Curiosity piqued, I purchased a ½ can of SPAM Classic and the remaining ingredients I would need for musubi.
Back home, I plopped out the contents of the can. It looked and smelled familiar (think pork shank), but appeared to be a finer grind than it used to be. It looked so fatty!
I made six thin horizontal slices and dry-fried them to try and render the evil out. I added vinegar, soy sauce and white sugar to create a glaze - nod to Mom - the recipe I was following contained a sugary element. The liquid reduced on “low” until the slices were well coated, sticky and fragrant.
The rest of the preparation involved sushi rice, seaweed nori, and sesame seeds; if you are truly interested you can view the previous post.
Cut to the finish - I ate a double portion! The sensory experience of a single Polynesian-style Spamwich was not enough to satisfy. I was surprised to find the preparation deliciously balanced, sweet, salty, and something more: it resolved my thirty-seven-year-old grudge towards meat from a tin.
SPAM has a solid place in the universe; it is an iconic reminder of meager times and war compacted in a humble can. (That would be World War II, for you young-uns). Last week, I would have been happy to never see it again.
Today, it would make me sad if this was the last time I ever get to eat it. Though, with a sodium content higher than I should have consumed over several days, it’s not something I can repeat anytime soon. I bid a fond farewell to SPAM - but not forever, if I can help it.
