Okay. I'll admit it. I like Spam.



No, not the kind that fills up my inbox. The other kind — the kind that’s made up of . . .?


Just what is it made of? TV foodie Andrew Zimmern calls it “Mystery Meat” and turns his nose up. Zimmern, the host of Bizarre Foods, will eat almost anything. For 13 cliff-hanging seasons he devoured the likes of coconut tree grubs, giant sea squirts and sausage made from horse rectums. Wikipedia has a comprehensive list of his gastronomical exploits — everything from raw pig’s testicles in Episode 1 to chicken fried seal flippers in Episode 85. You get the idea.


And yet the man disdains Spam?





Comfort Food



When I say I like Spam, I don’t mean that I eat it every day. Or every week. Or even every month. But when the occasion rolls around, it undeniably hits the spot — like it did today, before I started writing this article. Maybe that’s because, for me, it’s a comfort food. My family had it when I was a kid, and it brings back memories. It didn’t kill me, so I guess it was all right.


I like it browned in a little cooking oil. The best way to brown it? Don’t slice it into convenient slabs. Instead, dice it up into little cubes.


It goes well with eggs. Spam and eggs — there’s a certain ring to that, don’t you think?


Health warning: Spam is a processed meat product and should be consumed sparingly. But as Saint Benedict taught us in the sixth century: “Let all things be done with moderation.” So, it must be okay to indulge in a Spammy delight occasionally. Right?


More than the taste, I like the whole idea of Spam.





Spam Culture



To begin with, where does the name come from? Though Jay Hormel, whose company introduced Spam® in 1937, said it was derived from the words “spice” and “ham”, neither is in the product. Instead, it could be the acronym for “Shoulder of Pork and Ham”, if it included either one — which it doesn’t. Could it be another acronym: “Scientifically Processed Animal Matter”? Probably not. Company lore has it that a Hormel vice president’s brother coined the phrase in a naming contest during a New Years Eve party. Perhaps that worthy gentleman was inspired by a few libations and — no doubt — Spam canapés.





The marvelous mystery meat is a culinary tradition in parts of the Asian Pacific and Hawaii, stemming from its widespread availability during World War II and later conflicts. Its long shelf life and imperviousness to tropical climates make it ideal. In South Korea, the world’s second-largest Spam consumer (after the US), it is considered a luxury item and is a popular Lunar New Year’s present. Spam gift boxes often include seasonings and cooking oil.


Its popularity in Hawaii has darker roots. During the Second World War, the US government placed restrictions on the one-time territory’s deep-sea fishing industry as a means of controlling the Japanese-American population. Spam became an important source of protein, along with other canned luncheon meats and tinned fish, such as sardines.


People grew to like it. Today more Spam is consumed in Hawaii, per person, than in any other state. This amounts to nearly 7 million cans of Spam every year!


These days, the Aloha State’s Spam fervor finds expression in Waikiki’s Spam Jam, the state’s largest annual festival. Attendees indulge in a host of Spammy delicacies. Here are some of the featured items for 2023:


 Hawaiian Pizza with Spam and Pineapple

 Candied Spam Hula Pie

 Korean Spam Street Tacos

 Spam Katsu Sandwich

 Spam Fries with Guava Catsup

 Greek Gyro Wrap with Spam, Lamb and Beef

 Spam Nachos

 Cavatappi Spam Alfredo


With a little luck, the legendary “Mom’s Puerto Rican Spam Flan” will make an encore appearance.


From humble beginnings, Spam Jam has evolved into a day-long street festival and large-scale charity fund raiser. Hormel even sends ambassadors: mascots “Spammy” and “Sir-Can-A-Lot”.


These two dishes are ubiquitous in the islands:


Spam Musubi: popular grab-and-go snack credited to Japanese immigrants. It is a Hawaiian style onigiri that combines cooked Spam, rice and nori.


Loco Moco: dinner staple featuring rice topped by a hamburger patty, brown gravy, fried egg and Spam.


In fact, you can find Spam just about everywhere you go in Hawaii, and you see it in an astounding array of dishes. People there — or in Korea, or in the Philippines, for that matter — don’t understand why mainland Americans are so disdainful of it.


Should we blame the GI’s?



Spam Goes to War



The brand made a global impression in World War II when the United States government purchased over 100 million pounds of Spam to feed American and Allied fighting forces.


Sometimes GI’s ate it three times a day. They either loved it — well, okay, tolerated it — or they hated it. In 1945, Jay Hormel revealed in a New Yorker interview that he kept a “Scurrilous File” of Spam hate mail that he had received from military outposts all over the world. He brushed off their criticisms by comparing it to the infamous bully beef of the First World War. (“If they think Spam is terrible . . .”)


Spam even made its way into war fiction. An example can be found in Ariel Lawhon’s novelized account of the adventures of real-life Allied spy Nancy Wake. In Code Name Hélène, someone slips a Spam sandwich to Wake just before she parachutes into Nazi-occupied France. It’s not the best thing for an airsick war heroine and the result is predictable. Did it really happen? I hope not. But it could have.






Not surprisingly, Spam saw a decline in popularity when the war drew to a close. GI’s were sick of consuming it and homemakers were tired of using it to “make do”. But Americans never stopped eating Spam. They just relegated it to a secondary role. It was — and still is — affordable.


And it’s making a comeback. Recent economic woes have led to a revival of Spam’s popularity — and not just in the United States. In the UK, sales of Spam — and fish heads — were up by more than a third in the final quarter of 2022.





Located in Austin, Minnesota, the Spam Museum is wholly dedicated to the glory and wonder of Spam. Austin sits a mere 99 miles south of Minneapolis and hosts admission-free tours guided by Spam™bassadors, described as “noble good fellows”. (It appears that most are women.) Virtual guided tours are also available. According to the Spam website (www.spam.com), “Becoming a Spam™bassador is up there with being knighted.” Their job is to “make your visit full of wonder and hunger!”


Visitors can explore an exhibit featuring a World War II US Army Air Corps base nicknamed “Spamville”. In 1942, its location was a secret. They also can smile whimsically about Monty Python’s “Spamalot”, measure their height in Spam cans (I stack up to about 23 ½ cans) and enjoy a multitude of interactive and educational displays. If they still have the energy, they can browse through 247 Spam-themed items in the gift shop.


Though I’ve visited Minneapolis on a number of business trips, I’ve never had free time for the pilgrimage down to Austin. Maybe someday. I can always hope.



Spam is boring — isn’t it?



How is that possible, with all these varieties to choose from?


 Classic

 Lite

 Less Sodium

 With Bacon

 Oven Roasted Turkey

 Hickory Smoke

 Hot and Spicy

 Jalapeño

 Teriyaki

 Tocino

 Single Classic

 Single Light


Who knew?


If that’s not enough, consider these fun facts:


 12.8 cans of Span products are consumed every second

 Spam is sold in 48 countries around the globe (this makes for interesting viewing on a world map)

 London’s famous Big Ben is 1,163 Spam cans tall

 It would take 415,549,599 Spam cans to circle the earth at the Equator

 Guam residents consume an annual average of 16 cans per year



Don’t Knock It ’Til You’ve Fried It



That’s what the Hormel people say. According to their website, there are six ingredients:


 Pork with Ham (note: this is not the same thing as pork and ham)

 Salt

 Water

 Potato Starch

 Sugar

 Sodium


The pork and ham are pre-ground. Then the other ingredients are added and mixed at the desired temperature. The mixture is then moved to the canning line, where it is filled into 12-ounce metal cans.
Once filled, the cans progress to a closing machine which applies lids through a vacuum-sealing process. Then the cans are cooked and cooled for approximately three hours. Finally, labels are applied and the cans are packaged and sent to distribution.


Does that take all the mystery out of it?


Consider these tidbits from the Spam Museum website:


1937: Hormel introduces Spam luncheon meat. Ken Daigneau, actor and brother of a Hormel vice president, wins contest — and $100 prize — for naming the Spam® brand


1941: More than 100 million pounds of Spam shipped overseas during World War II


1947: The 60-member “Hormel Girls” drum and bugle corps toured America to generate Spam awareness





1959: One billionth can sold


1962: 7-ounce Spam Classic introduced


1970: Two billionth can sold


1971: Spam Hickory Smoke Flavor and Spam with Cheese introduced


1980: Three billionth can sold


1986: Spam with Less Sodium introduced


1991: Original Spam Museum opened on one hundredth anniversary of Hormel Foods


1992: Spam Lite introduced


1994: Five billionth can sold


1995: Spam-sponsored racing car wins Winston Cup


1998: Spam brand packaging donated to Smithsonian


And so it goes, into 2023 with more than 9 billion cans sold (enough to circle the earth 21.658 times) . . . and the launch of Spam Figgy Pudding. No kidding.


Can’t wait to try it.



Images:

Getty Images

masalaeats.com

historypod.net

Hormel Foods