When you’ve got it, flaunt it. Even if it’s something that makes a lot of people cringe. In this case, that would be Spam. Now I’m not talking about all that sickening, mailbox-clogging email we all get. This is about that venerable canned meat product, the stuff a lot of us ate when we didn’t have enough money for anything else.
Who’s flaunting it: Hormel, which apparently now owns Spam. And guess what: there’s a Spam museum. Really.
Hormel has the goods on this enterprise up proudly on its web site. And, I suppose, why shouldn’t it. Take a peek at the ‘Spam family of products’: http://www.hormelfoods.com/brands/spam/default.aspx
The real Museum of Spam, apparently complete with a stately building, is hidden away somewhere in Minnesota. but you can experience the true nostalgia that surrounds scrumptious Spam just by visiting its home on the web.
There’s even a digital Spam cookbook with some 20 or so goodies you can prepare at home deep, probably deep in the night. I’m personally gearing up to tuck into the Creamed Spam Plate Special. The recipe writer says it will feed 8, but I bet with a dozen pints or so on board I can eat the whole lot.
While contemplating the significance of discovering the Museum of Spam I recalled another food product of dubious distinction from yesteryear. I don’t know if it’s still around, but a product that came in a red tin the same size and style as a Spam used to be available north of the U.S. border in Canada. It was called Spork. If memory serves me Spork couldn’t be imported into the United States because it contained a hair-raising list of revolting ingredients not welcome down south.
I wonder if somewhere in the windswept Northwest Territories is a Museum of Spork. Food for thought. Sort of.
What I’d give for a tin of Spork right now. And what pig parts went into making Spork? ALL parts, probably.
