I don’t know what you do when you wake up to discover that the Republican Party now rules both houses of Congress. Me? I eat large quantities of processed pork products and wash it down with vodka shots.
I’d been waiting for an appropriate occasion to do my taste test between Armour Treet and Spam, and since things have already gone to hell, I figured why not today?
I know you’ve heard of Spam. Maybe you’ve even tasted it, though I hope for your sake that you haven’t. Of the two, it’s the “higher-end product” that enjoys more name recognition. I once even detoured from my planned vacation route so we could visit the Spam Museum in Austin, Minn., which probably says a lot more about me than it does about Spam.
Despite past transgressions, I was determined not let Spam’s slick marketing tip the balance during my taste trials — and I do mean trials.
Not as many people are familiar with Treet, but growing up, I’m not ashamed to admit that we were an Armour Treet family. My mother did all the shopping when I was growing up, and I wonder now if she was just being cheap or if she decided at some point that Treet tasted better.
I think the human brain has a way of protecting itself from harmful memories, so I really couldn’t remember. It was time to find out.
After examining both cans, I pulled the ring tab on both, using a motion not unlike pulling the pin on a hand grenade.
I really should list the ingredients for both Spam and Treet, but I’ve got to keep in mind that children might be reading this. Also, there’s those vodka shots that I mentioned, and I’m just not up to dealing with the fine print.
After peeling back the lids, the first thing I noticed was the glistening pinkness emanating from the Spam. The Treet had a bit more of an unhealthy brown hue that called to mind a spray tan on an exsanguinated corpse.
So when it comes to appearance, pick your poison. Neither one is overly appealing.
Next I needed to extract both products. Turning both cans upside down and giving them a shake produced no joy and I knew I would have to take sterner measures. First I banged the Spam a few times on a plate, which broke the suction, allowing it to slide out menacingly.
The Treet was even more reluctant to come and play, and it quickly became apparent that this would be a forceps delivery. I tried first with a fork, but I think that just pissed it off because it seemed to hang on with more desperation. Finally a knife blade around the edges broke its will, and it slid out of the can seemingly as resigned to its fate as I was to mine.
Spam exits the can without too much effort, perhaps too
eager to invite your tastebuds to come out and play.
It takes work to get Treet out of the can. Maybe Treet knows
it ain’t no treat, and I give it some credit for wanting to hide.
I confess I was mouth-breathing as I cut off 1/4-inch slices of Spam and Treet. The Spam was sort of a dappled pink inside, while the sliced Treet revealed flecks of whitish goo that troubled me greatly.
I wanted to be authentic, so I used twin globs of Crisco in separate frying pans, just as my mother would have done. I don’t know how healthy that is, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve always enjoyed watching that white shit melt in the pan.
I cut off two more slices of pork loaf for the grill, thinking that cooking technique might prove superior to my mother’s method. I should have known better.
Working quickly, I flipped the sizzling Spam and Treet in the frying pans, then walked out on the deck to see how things were going on the open flame.
Honestly, both venues looked pretty disgusting, and the reek reminded me of a past trip to New York City during the sanitation workers’ strike.
Cooking time is mercifully quick, and I hastily beat a couple of eggs to make a tasty omelet on the side. By this time I was already feeling queasy, and knew I’d need something strong to wash it down. Never mind if it was only 11 a.m., I brought out the vodka, splashing some into the souvenir shot glass I’d purchased several years ago at the Spam Museum.
Time to eat!
I stared at my omelet, surrounded by four slices of processed pork garbage that looked too much like human tongues.
And the results?
As for the cooking techniques, it didn’t make a lot of difference. Fried or grilled, Spam and Treet both taste like ass, so my advice to you is that if you have to eat this stuff, just do whatever is easiest because nothing is going to improve it.
As for Spam vs. Treet, I give a slight edge to Treet. As I said, both were nasty, but Treet was just slightly less disgusting, and at $1 cheaper per can, why pay more for something that’s going to taste bad no matter how you slice it?
Now as mentioned, Spam does have a higher profile, and friends may think better of you for serving it to them instead of Treet. But if prestige isn’t important to you, then maybe Armour Treet is the better deal. But before you buy, keep in mind that Spam does have more varieties. They’ve come out with Hickory-smoked Spam, Turkey Spam, Teriyaki Spam and Chorizo Spam, to name a few.
But let’s be honest here. If you serve this to guests, they’re going to kick your ass no matter which product you buy.
I bought a can of the Chorizo Spam, but after my experience today with the plain product, I was just too weak to expose myself to more.
However, Christmas is coming and I’m thinking the Chorizo Spam will make a nice stocking stuffer for one of my sons-in-law. Be on your best behavior, boys, your dad-in-law is watching!
As for today’s leftovers, I’m throwing it deep into the woods the first chance I get. I think it’s going to really piss off the gnomes when they find it, but I need to get this stuff out of my house, so I’ll take the risk.