Round 2: Into The Frying Pan
Better than a scab collection is my collection of fried, canned meats. Most of the cans had recipes on them to make your food choice extra delicious. The recipe was pretty much to just fry it and serve it with something else. How do you argue with sound logic and culinary wizardry like that?
Before I could do anything else with the deviled ham, my cat helped himself, and good riddance, I said. Out loud. To the cat. Likewise, the cod liver had to be accidentally hurled deep, deep into the trash and covered with other trash so that it may never see the light of day again. Fuck that product and whatever rancid, black-souled fiends thought canning it might qualify as anything less than a human rights violation. I ditched the sweet pike too, because screw that.
Dropping a slice of the five remaining cubed meats into my pan, I waited with whatever the opposite of anticipation is for them to fry up golden and crispy. Apprehension? Dread? Something like that.
In an unexpected twist akin to M. Night Shyamalan making a good movie again, the corned beef, once fried up crispy, is actually palatable and even non-offensive. I could probably make a pasta dish with this stuff in it and enjoy it. Or mix it into some hash browns and scrambled eggs and have a breakfast that won't cause wincing.
Fried Spam is supposedly the gold standard here; I think some restaurants run by people who have never had families even have this on the menu. If this is the standard by which to measure all other fried, canned meats, we haven't advanced far as a species.
Klik, Kam, Spam, and Luncheon Meat all basically become a brownish pink slab of salt when fried. It's like ham if the pig hadn't been told what ham is. You know that scene in The Matrix when Mouse is explaining how their protein slime tastes like Tasty Wheat to him, but how do the machines know what Tasty Wheat tastes like? And maybe everything tastes like chicken because they don't understand what chicken tastes like? I think this is that situation. Basically, I think Spam indicates on some level we're in the Matrix and the machines don't love us.
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