Spam Love, er, Musubi

Spam musubi ready for munching

Now, before someone starts gagging and saying things like, “Ew! Spam’s not food!,” we’d like to invite you all over for a Spam musubi party.  You’re welcome to engage in Spam-bashing afterwards – if you can still speak with your mouth crammed full of musubi.

Spam musubi was entirely unknown to me until I was a senior in college, when a Hawaiian underclassman friend decided he needed a little taste of home. I was right there with him. Spam had fallen out of my food rotation in high school, as the internet gave the word new meaning (Yes, I’m old), but hearing about it again conjured up all kind of happy memories. When visiting my family in Zamboanga we’d munch on fried Spam and rice or Spam and Eden cheese stuffed into warm pandesal. In Minnesota we’d fry up the Spam and make little hamburgers (Spamburgers?) out of it. This Spam musubi my dear friend conjured up was everything I remembered about Spam with a Hawaiian twist: salty and crunchy and sweet and tangy.

Raphe, on the other hand, is newer to the Spam party.  After months of battling his admonishment of how processed and unhealthy it is, we finally reached a point of concession. We tried a simple fried Spam and rice dish, but it didn’t impress him much. I was a little afraid that he would never try again. I chided myself for not starting with the musubi and continued advocating for its deliciousness.

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