Crusty SPAM Bake!

contributed by Bryce W., Selden, NY

 Faithful follower and old pal Bryce has sent me a priceless treasure - two binders of meticulously cut out recipes from newspapers and magazines, found in his grandmother-in-law's attic. Just the sort of thing I can put to good use, in case you yourself happen to come across something of it's like.  In the meantime, you can show your appreciation to Bryce by picking up his CD, or stocking up on some or all of his children's books for the holidays!

So, on to "Crusty SPAM Bake".  Dr. Husband is a well-known hater of SPAM, so I chose an evening when he was away at work to try it out. I'm not so averse - there's really nothing like a slab of potted meat with Miracle Whip in between a couple of slices of white bread, after all - and not that it was entirely a hard sell, but to be perfectly frank it was the first recipe my eyes landed on when I opened the first binder.

The recipe:

1/2 c. cornflake crumbs (I used Panko instead)
2 tbsp. brown sugar
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 12 oz. can spam
2 tbsp. prepared mustard
pineapple slices

 

Combine cornflakes crumbs, brown sugar and cloves. Slice spam into 8 slices. Spread each side with mustard, then coat generously with crumb mixture. Top with pineapple slices and place in shallow baking pan.Bake at 350°F for 20 minutes.
Serves 4 with 2 slices each.

Easy assembly, easy cleanup, and not entirely disgusting. In fact, like most mid-century budget cooking, it kind of tastes like nothing:

 Our Rating: Three Screaming Husbands!
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

SPAM-Fruit Cocktail Buffet Party Loaf!

contributed by DelMonte Co., via the internets

Newer readers of the blog (lots of new Facebook likes lately, keep 'em coming!) may be surprised to learn that, despite lots of flirtation with similar products, I've only ever made one recipe using America's favorite potted meat product, SPAM™.  The chief reason being that Dr. Husband has essentially forbidden its presence in our home, so I can only sneak it in when he's not looking. (He's also not fond of Miracle Whip, but I have to put my foot down about the really important things.)

SPAM™ has been in production for over 75 years, and recently (2007) sold its seven BILLIONTH can, so those like Dr. Husband hoping for its quick departure will have a bit longer to wait.  If you're able to just accept SPAM's supremacy forevermore, I'm sorry to report that the SPAM Museum is temporarily closed...but you can head on over to SPAM central and see all the remarkable things you can do with it while you wait for the grand reopening!

For all its versatility, this recipe came not from SPAM™ but from Del Monte brand fruit cocktail, "the fruit cocktail with character".  The colorful advertisement below proudly features a recipe that is "really different!  Ham and salad molded in one loaf!"

 The print is hard to make out, so I'll do the honors:

1 (15-ounce) can Del Monte fruit cocktail, drained (reserve syrup)
2 tablespoons unflavored gelatin
2 tablespoons vinegar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
2 (12-ounce) cans Spam luncheon meat, very finely chopped
1/2 cup celery, very finely chopped
1/4 cup green olives, very finely chopped
1/2 cup Miracle Whip
1 teaspoon prepared mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
5 lemons
Paprika
Additional Miracle Whip

Arrange drained fruit cocktail in 9-by-5-by-3 inch loaf pan. In top of double boiler, mix reserved syrup with gelatin, vinegar, cinnamon, and cloves. Place over hot water and stir until gelatin dissolves. Carefully pour 1/2 cup of gelatin mixture over fruit cocktail. Place in pan in refrigerator and chill until gelatin has thickened but is not set.

Mix Spam with celery and olives. Mix Miracle Whip with mustard, salt, and remaining gelatin mixture. Add Spam mixture to Miracle Whip mixture and blend well. Spread over fruit cocktail. Chill until firm, at least 4 hours.

For garnish, make lemon cups by halving lemons, slicing off ends (so lemons will stand up), and scooping out pulp. Dip cut edges of lemons in paprika. Fill cups with Miracle Whip and sprinkle lightly with additional paprika.

To serve, unmold loaf onto large platter and surround with lemon cups. Makes 8 to 10 servings

This went together fairly quickly, the most time-consuming part is chopping the SPAM™. (I suppose I could have used the food processor, but I was afraid it would dissolve into a gelatinous goop or pink slime or somesuch.)

I went offsite for the tasting, so there would be others around to protect me from Dr. Husband's pork-like food product-induced wrath:

 Our Rating:  Three Screaming Husbands!

(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

Party Pork Crown

Party Pork Crown
contributed by Mrs. Allie C. Woodcock, New Orleans, La.
Favorite Recipes of America: Salads, page 169

My most ambitious project to date - not only because of the challenge of getting one particular ingredient past Dr. Husband's discriminating palate, but also because another key ingredient hasn't existed for fifty years.

I've been sitting on his recipe for a while, precisely because it calls for celery flavored Jell-O. As mentioned before, Jell-O did briefly flirt with the idea of savory flavors (celery, Italian salad, seasoned tomato, and mixd vegetable) but apparently, the idea didn't catch on so well. Or did it?  Because here, in Favorite Recipes of America, we find a recipe, apparently a FAVORITE,  calling for celery flavor!

The recipe, as it was printed in 1968:

1 3-oz. package celery flavored gelatin
1 c. hot water
1/2 c. cold water
1 tbsp. cider vinegar
1/2 c. mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/2 tsp. prepared mustard
1/4 tsp. salt
1 12-oz. can pork luncheon meat, diced
1 89-oz. can peas, drained
Romaine leaves

Dissolve gelatin in hot water; stir in cold water and vinegar. Beat in mayonnaise, mustard and salt; pour into shallow pan. Freeze for 20 minutes. Spoon into medium bowl; beat until light. Fold in meat and peas; spoon into 4-cup ring mold. Chill until firm. Unmold onto serving plate; garnish with romaine leaves. Yield: 4-6 servings.

Also, let's address the elephant in the room: "pork luncheon meat" can mean nothing but Spam™, 'miright?

Spam™, as anyone reading this blog will certainly already know, is "ground pork shoulder and ground ham combined with salt, sugar, water, and sodium nitrate, stuffed into a can, sealed, cooked, dried, dated, and shipped...It needs no refrigeration. It will keep in its can until the end of time." (My facts and figures come from Jane and Michael Stern's Encyclopedia of Bad Taste, long out of print but well worth the ONE CENT that a used paperback copy on Amazon will cost you.) It was a staple for the Allies in wartime, and in fact Nikita Kruschev credited it with saving the Russian army from starvation.

As you'll see in the tasting video, I made up my own claim that Spam™was the most popular food in Korea; further research reveals that I may not have been so far off the mark. If anyone has any further clarification on that matter, be sure and let me know!

The bigger issue was how to replicate the celery Jell-O™... so here goes. I boiled some celery for a few minutes, then strained that water and used it for the 1 cup hot water in the recipe. Then in place of the called-for salt, I used celery salt. If you're tempted to duplicate the recipe at home, I will warn you that the celery salt will not dissolve AT ALL. It ends up as a kind of grit that settles in the bottom of the mold (what will be the top when you unmold it.)

Everything else came together easily, leaving me only with the dread of feeding Dr. Husband Spam™, which he's promised would be a five-scream offense. But, to my surprise...

Our Rating: Two Screaming Husbands!
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)