A food truck in San Francisco is about as rare a thing as a steep hill and views of that big, red bridge. But the van that rolled into the city yesterday is a tad unusual, mainly because the sign that would usually proclaim that it is selling pulled pork,
Is Spam on the verge of food fashion?
Subscribe to listen
Photo / Instagram.com/carolineadobo via @SpamBrand
Now, I wish Spam well and all those who choose to eat it, too. But I can't help thinking that it may have an uphill struggle on its hands. Corned beef is, after all, a means of treatment: you are merely curing lean-ish beef. The canning process is not integral to the food. It is easy to gourmandise.
On the other hand, some seven billion 340g containers of Spam are sold in 41 countries on six continents - and every single one of them is a can. And that will always contain meat that looks like a fleshy Lego brick. It is hard to make that into a highly covetable product.
There is a reason why Spam, created in 1937 by George Hormel, is seen as an economic indicator: when the economic winter sets in, especially in the US, sales tend to rocket. It has a long shelf-life, is easy to transport (being stackable - and thus bought in large quantities by the US army in the Second World War) and it is, most of all, cheap.
Plus, it is only ever made thus: raw pork shoulder, and meat from elsewhere on the pig, are mixed up by vast machines, which work in a vacuum and under refrigeration. The meat is then pumped into the oblong cans which are vacuum sealed and then sent to be cooked, sterilised and dried in vast machines. That is it. That is how it is made. There can be no artisan Spam made with pork fillet and by hand by a hirsute enthusiast in Dalston. Any other method and it is simply not Spam. Gourmandise it and you get, well, ham.
This, I can't help suspecting, is a food truck whose wheels may quickly come off.
- The Independent