i spent all of yesterday procrastinating ugh
hey me too
what'd you do?? i just kind of stared at my wall and ate food
i was reading up on Korean snacks and somehow ended up learning about the entire history of SPAM
you mean like the meat??
lmao why though
dude i don't know
but what i do know is that spam was invented in Austin, Minnesota, which is also where the spam museum is, is made of pork shoulder and ham, and became very popular in South Korea when US soldiers were stationed there during the Vietnam war...SPAM was the meat of choice 'cause it didn't expire as fast and now there are traditional Korean dishes that incorporate spam
been craving coffee, and Daryl, whom you barely even know, makes a special run
to surprise you with some.
“Hey, Olivia, got any coffee?” You ask as you pull cans of
beans off of the shelves in the makeshift food pantry.
“Sorry.” Olivia shrugs. “We haven’t had coffee for about a
You sigh. “Figures.” You look up across the shelf to where
Daryl Dixon is staring at a can of Spam. The “meat” was probably expired, and
the man was most likely deciding if it was worth the risk. “What are you doing
out there on runs, Dixon?” He looks up confused. In the four months that Rick’s
group had been in Alexandria, you and Daryl had spoken maybe once a few months
back, but since your job was teaching the little kids, you didn’t really see
him very often. He was thrown off now by the fact that you were suddenly
speaking to him and playfully accusing him of not doing his job. “We haven’t
had coffee here in a year. What are you people doing?”
Daryl shrugs and goes back to staring at the can. “I guess
it’s for the best.” You sigh again, putting a can of white beans back on the
shelf, blocking Daryl from view. “Coffee’s addicting.” You chuckle, looking at
Olivia. “Back before the world went scorched-Earth, my friends and I used to
meet up at this little independent coffee shop near my house every Saturday
morning to catch up, but especially to talk about our show. The Brisbone Chronicles premiered on
Thursdays, and we’d just have to gush about whatever drama had happened that
week.” You smile. “But, I would often drink two, maybe three cups of coffee
during those meetings. I may have had an addiction.”
“Me, too.” Olivia says. “Dark roast. That was my blend. And
anything with hazelnut.”
“Mmmm.” You lean against the shelf dreamily. You were a
little dramatic to begin with, but talking about your one vice, coffee, made it
all that worse. “I love my coffee like I love my men—strong bodied and with an
aftertaste.” You wink.
Daryl gave a startled, nervous cough before saying, “Imma
take this.” He held up the can of expired Spam and made his way out of the
“Totally forgot he was there.” You laugh. “Poor guy—he looked
“You’re a little red in the face, too, honey.” It was Olivia’s
turn to laugh now.
You were running a little later than normal the next week.
Class was cancelled for the day because Rick decided it was Halloween (or close
enough; the whole calendar system was so messed up that no one was really sure
anymore) and he wanted the kids to have a chance to celebrate before it got
dark and more dangerous. So, instead of work, you promised Carol you would help
her make cookies for the trick-or-treaters that morning.
You pulled your boots on quickly and grabbed your pistol off
the stand next to the door. You had your knife between your teeth (because you
hadn’t had a chance to sheath it yet, and this way was totally safe) as you flung open the door a little too aggressively and
nearly ran smack into Daryl Dixon. His fist was raised as if he had just been
about to knock on the door, and you were both shocked into silence for a
Then, you sheathed your knife to your hip and put your gun
away before smiling and saying, “What can I do ya for?” The fact that Daryl had
not expected you to fly out of your door before he had the chance to knock on
it had thrown him off guard, and the words he had wanted to say had been blown
right out of his brain on a passing breeze.
You continue to smile, waiting, but after a few awkward
seconds of you two just staring at each other on your porch, you say, “Look, as
much fun as this is, I’m going to be late to staring at Carol blankly without
saying anything, so I should get going.” He doesn’t move, so you put a hand
flat on his chest and guide him gently out of your way so you can step out onto
the porch and close the door. “Bye, Mr. Dixon.” You wave, turning and leaving
him standing there on your porch, that same look of bewilderment and ‘I-forgot-what-I-was-going-to-say’
stuck on his face.
“I felt kinda bad about just leaving him there.” You say to
Carol as you stir flour and beets together. You’d been relaying to her the
events of the morning, because they still made no sense to you. “I mean, it was
kinda rude, but at the same time, I couldn’t just stand there and stare at him
all day, you know? There came a point where one of us had to speak, and it was
Carol smiles sweetly. “Daryl’s just shy.”
“Him?!” You snort incredulously. “He’s the last person here
that I would’ve pegged as ‘shy’. Maybe the ‘strong, silent type’. But not shy.”
Carol patted you on the shoulder and fixed you with that
soft stare that you felt could read every molecule of your soul. “You’re both
more complex than you appear, Y/N. When I first met you, I ‘pegged you’ as a
little more aggressive and forward than need be. But you can be very
soft-spoken when you want to be.” You smile. “Don’t judge Daryl by his cover.”
She wags a spoon in your face.
“Yes Miss Carol, ma’am.” You giggle. Carol didn’t like it when
you called her that. “Really, though, what do you think he wanted?”
Carol shrugged, adding sugar to the mixture that you were
stirring. “Could’ve been anything, really. Since you two never really have casual
chats, you can probably rule that out.” She started smashing walnuts. “But, you’ll
only know if you ask him.”
It was starting to get dark as you walk back to your house after
all the Halloween festivities. There was a little spring in your step, fueled
by the chocolate that Glenn had found on a run for the trick-or-treating and
the cookies you and Carol had made, and you knew you were probably not going to
sleep for a while. You started to climb the steps to your house, when movement on
the porch made you jump. You almost pulled your gun before you made out the
shape of Daryl Dixon in the shadows. He was standing near the door, almost
exactly the same as how you left him early that morning. “Holy shit, you scared
me.” You clutch a hand to your chest and exhale. “Have you been standing here
all day?” That would be weird.
“No.” Daryl answered quickly. “I uh… I went home, but I knew
you’d be comin back around this time, so I came back.”
“Ok.” You say. It was quiet again for a while. “Can I help
you?” You say before you can catch yourself. You were remembering what Carol
said about being aggressive, and you didn’t want to make him feel unwelcome.
You were just itching to know what he wanted to say.
“I gotcha sumthin.”
“You… wait, what?” You were confused. In the dying light of
the day, you could see Daryl turning red. Holy shit, Carol was right. He was
shy. “Sorry, I just, I wasn’t expecting that.” You try to soften up a bit. “You
got me… like a gift?” He nods. “Ok. That was nice of you.” You still didn’t
know what it was, so it may not have been nice of him at all. “What is it?”
“I wanted to put it together and bring it to you, but I… I
can’t figure it out. It’s at my house.”
You hoped it wasn’t a vibrator; that would be a weird gift
to get from a man you barely knew. You immediately berate yourself for having
this thought. You have literally no
reason to believe that it’s a vibrator, you moron. Why is that the first place
you go? You think to yourself.
“I live that way.” Daryl walks off your porch and heads in
the direction of his house.
This was abnormal. To say the least. “Um, Ok.” You follow.
It was a quiet, but not all unpleasant walk to Daryl’s home.
It was dark now, but the warm October night was littered with stars; that was
the only great thing about the apocalypse: no more light pollution. One could see
the universe for miles in every direction. “I love how clearly you can see the
stars.” You mutter, looking up as you walk. “Man’s punishment was the walkers,
but our reward is the cosmos.”
Daryl shrugged, looking up briefly. “I think our reward ain’t
up there, it’s down here. A second chance.”
“How do you mean?” But he didn’t elaborate, only kept
Finally, you reach the house that had been assigned to
Daryl, and you both go inside. Daryl leads you into the kitchen, flipping on
lights as he went. “Stay here.” He pointed to the spot you were standing in. He
turned around to open a cabinet, then turned back and said, “Close your eyes.” When
his back is turned again, you roll your eyes before closing them. You hear him
rustling around in the cabinet and setting things on the counter. After a few
moments, you hear, “Open ‘em.”
When you open your eyes, what you see is easily twenty times
better than a vibrator. Daryl was holding a brand new coffee maker and a bag of
French roast un-ground coffee beans. You almost started crying. “Oh my god,
Daryl, this isn’t a gift!” You practically scream, trying not to tackle him in
a hug. “This is pure deliverance!”
He cracks a sheepish smile. “I saw the coffee maker on a run
yesterday, and I remembered what you said. It took me a few hours to find the
beans, but, here they are.”
“How can I ever thank you?” You were hugging the coffee maker
shamelessly now and inhaling the deep aroma of the beans through their silver
Daryl shrugged, holding up two mugs. “Have a cup of coffee
I have to read the first half of Hamlet and 100 pages of The Hunger Games by tomorrow, but I do this instead… Oh well, too late to make a non-procrastinatey decision!
As you can see, Spam is ribbed for your pleasure. All the other meat cubes come in a can where you have to use a small metal key to unwind a band of metal that holds top and bottom together, allowing your meat to pop free. Not so Spam, which just has a pop top like a pudding cup, so once you peel back the top of the can you get to shake and wrestle with your Spam for a solid 10 minutes before the little shit comes clean.
Out on the table, Spam looks most like actual ham, which I think is the point of all of this. On the other hand, why not just eat ham? I can’t say. Another point in Spam’s favor is that it contains the least amount of afterbirth of all the canned meats so far. No wonder this shit is so popular.
As far as taste, it’s not really much different than Klik or Luncheon meat. I would say it’s superior, however. Luncheon Meat, in retrospect, tastes like Spam that has been eaten once already.
Denmark’s Tulip Food Company cranks out more than 130 million tins of canned meat a year. Photographer Alastair Philip Wiper takes you inside the factory for his latest, humorously dark series. He documented the entire process, from slaughterhouse deliveries to flesh-colored meat oozing from grinders.
(Reuters) - Native
Americans who often ate processed meat in a can, generically known as spam and a common food on reservations, one subsidized by the
government – had a two-fold increased risk of developing diabetes over
those who ate little or none, according to a U.S. study.
Native Americans are at especially high risk of developing diabetes, with nearly half having the condition by age 55.
“A lot of communities in this study are in very
rural areas with limited access to grocery stores… and they want to
eat foods that have a long shelf life,” said Amanda Fretts, the lead
author and a researcher at the University of Washington School of
Though Spam is a brand-name pork product, the
lower-case term is also used to describe any kind of processed, canned
meat, Fretts said. Canned meat is available freely to many Native
Americans on reservations as part of the U.S. Department of
Agriculture’s food assistance program.
and her colleagues found that unprocessed meat did not have the same
relationship with diabetes, with people equally likely to develop
diabetes regardless of how much hamburger or cuts of pork or beef they
“I think what this study
indicates is processed meats should be a priority for reduction (in the
diet), especially among American Indians where they can go to food
assistance programs and they can get discounted spam,” said Dariush
Mozaffarian, a professor at the Harvard School of Public Health who was
not involved in the study.