I’ve long held—and with increasing militancy—that Spam is a perfect food product. The canned concoction is something irreplaceable in the pantry; as much as I like double-digit pound bags of rice, dried and canned legumes, and tinned fish, the cookable protein of Spam is unmatched in its ritualistic use. One could theoretically eat the strange, soft pink thing right out of the can, but its crispness with a brief pan-fry (which still renders the inside of the meat tender and juicy) makes it texturally unmatched amongst its shelf-stable peers.
My go-to breakfast is Spam with eggs over rice. I don’t eat it every day, or even every week, but at least once a month. One can makes three servings, and should be eaten in daily succession (some people freeze Spam, but I don’t care for thawing and it doesn’t cook right when pulled directly from the freezer). It takes roughly the same amount of time to cook from start-to-finish as my Mr. Coffee does to brew. It’s practically thoughtless at this point, a series of memorized motions that allow me to start the day: wash the rice, boil, steam, grind beans, brew, cut Spam, fry, flip, bowl both, crack two eggs, flip, pour coffee, serve. By the time all the dishes are washed and drying, it’s cool enough to eat.
I put salt and pepper on the eggs, sometimes paprika, and maybe Old Bay or Cajun seasoning; I’ll chop up green onions, scallions, or parsley if I have it. The point is not to get too fancy, though, as the base is already perfectly balanced—the salt of the Spam counteracts the sweet plainness of the white rice, which itself becomes coated with a jammy sauce from the over-easy egg’s yolk. Every constituent part on their own is too far in their own direction (too salty, too rich, too nothing), but together they’re balanced in a way that becomes greater than the sum, a Gesamtkunstwerk for breakfast.
The satisfaction of my routine also breeds a laziness. While it can keep me grounded, the quotidian exercise of making the same breakfast over and over again often sets my day up poorly. Many use the meal as an excuse to be quick or blunt in their cooking (or even just the simple prep of pouring milk and cereal into a bowl), but I find if I’m not putting myself into gear at the start of the day then I spin wheels for a long time, and can see the morning and afternoon slip away. I need cold water splashed on my face as much as I need hot food in my stomach, something to snap me out of my otherwise lethargic spell.
For a while I’ve had one particular can of Spam languishing in my pantry, one labeled “Korean BBQ” flavor, which stands out in the collection of my usual low-sodium cans (which I prefer not for health reasons, but simply because they’re more properly salted). It’s a novelty can that I knew would be hate-or-love, with more of a hunch towards hate. Opening the can confirmed this suspicion, with the bespeckled pinkish meat replaced by something a bit darker orange, with an inky blackness hiding in its future. The meat was wet rather than sticky like a de-cased sausage, with an off-putting sweetness radiating from what it left on the cutting board. When I fried the stuff, the sugars on it started to burn before a crisp skin could form on the exterior of my Spam patties. That sweet and bitter char still lacked texture and, worst of all, saltiness. Not even the kimchi I had on the side with it could save the dish. But, it did serve me well in the way my easy breakfasts so often don’t, in that it did wake me up.