My children made up a poem at the dinner table this evening:
Spam is nice
It's good with rice
So have a slice!
You'll want it twice.
At first I could not see the point of Spam. I knew that people around here liked it, but why should I pay three dollars for twelve ounces of chopped and processed who knows what? For seven months I lived in Hawaii without tasting Spam. I didn't buy it. I didn't cook it.
And then a friend of ours bought us a can of it. Since it was free, I didn't say no. I sliced it and fried it up and served it with rice for dinner.
The kids ate the Spam. And then they were too full to eat anything else.
So now I see what Spam's about. A little goes a long, long ways. That twelve ounce can for three dollars is all the meat I need for seven people.
And it will keep on the shelf too.
I think I'm going to have to buy more Spam.
4 comments:
Ha! I had to smile at this entry. For one thing, it reminded me of something that would have happened around our dinner table when y'all were little, so brought back happy memories. For another thing, it is fun to see you adapting to & adopting local customs. Guess I can look forward to a spam dinner next time I come ;-)
I've never had spam. Somehow the thought always turned me off. How did it taste?
It tasted salty, Leisha. And greasy. And yummy. I'll make you some when you come and visit.
Cool!
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