SPAM

So the other day I read an article online about how Americans in these times of economic upheaval are turning more and more to that canned miracle, SPAM . I promptly informed Wife that we just weren’t helping out enough and needed to buy more SPAM, to which she responded that there was no way in Hell that we were going to buy more SPAM.

You see Wife has what I like to call Spamophobia. At some point in her younger years she was traumatized by her psycho parents and has now come to associate this harmless and life giving canned meat into something along the lines of pure evil. I won’t go into the details here but her hatred for such a wonderful food stuff is saddening.

So as I drove home that night arguing the finer points of SPAM with her on the phone (you know…things like it’s a million and one meat that makes any dish better, it helped to win the war you know…yeah…things like that) She grumpily explained that smell is one of our strongest attachments to memories and that she doesn’t have good memories associated with that smell and as such I should kindly take my SPAM and shove it…no she didn’t phrase it quite like that, but that’s how I took it.

I will be honest that this did torque me a little bit and where I was already on my way to the grocery store I purchased 2 cans of the lovely goop coated meat in a can (that’ll show her who’s boss). Rushing home with my freshly bought spoils I prepped a lovely fried SPAM sandwich…When I say lovely I mean L O V E L Y

Admittedly it’s not the best picture, but you get the point. I mean look at that L O V E L Y goodness. Little fried pillows of goodness sandwiched between two fresh slices of white bread, cheese and pickles (Yes I realize the total lack of health in this sandwich but sometimes you just have to say what the fuck and go for it). I would dare say that this is the quintessential all American sandwich. You can keep your philly cheese, your BLT’s your clubs, your moons over my hammy’s…this is pure 100% unadulterated American.
Evan Daisy likes it…


Please take note of the extra spam that didn’t make it into the sandwich…little crispy extras…like a loving side of bacon but better because it’s SPAM. Don’t think I’ve missed the irony of also having a hand full of Sun Chips on the plate next to it…you have to make an attempt to clean out the cholesterol right away or this thing will sneak up on you and cause a stroke.

So after eating my sandwich I took a little slice of it strait from the can and munched happily on it when it hit me. Wife’s right…Oh My G O D….How in the hell can I let her know without it going strait to her head? Thinking thinking thinking thinking….

Oh yeah…how is she right? Well you see as I munched on that piece of SPAM I realized why I love this canned goop of pieces and parts so much. It’s because I too have associated it with memories, happier memories though.

Being the youngest of 3 brothers I was often left with my maternal grandparents while my two older brothers went to school and mom returned back to work to help make ends meet. It was during these times that I would come to love SPAM just as my grandfather loved it. I remember afternoons of SPAM sandwiches or cheese and crackers with SPAM toppers while sitting on the patio with my grandfather listening to story after story or in his work shop watching him craft something marvelous from wood. It’s these memories that I’ve come to associate with SPAM. This man who was a towering model of strength and knowledge loved it and so I too loved it.

So dear…you’re right…but remember the next time you want to give me crap about having SPAM just remember that I’m having it with someone else too…