What can I say? That name already sounds bad. The picture of the food itself doesn’t look especially good, either, and is flanked by both a stereotypical Mexican guy in a sombrero and a sexy dancing girl with a fruit hat. Peaches are (to me) from Georgia, but canned ones are often from California. Spam comes from, as best I can figure, Hormel. There is nothing Mexican whatsoever about this recipe. So we start it off with cultural stereotypes that have little to do with the food. Great.

The recipe:

1 can of Spam

1 #2½ can of cling peaches in heavy syrup

Cloves

Brown Sugar

Drain #2½ can (1lb. 13oz. or 3.5 cup) cling peaches, saving the syrup. Slice block of Spam almost to the bottom in 5 slices, leaving enough for the slices to stay attached. Insert cloves into the top of the Spam slices. Insert peach slices between Spam slices, arrange other peach pieces around the Spam in a baking dish. Blend ¼ cup of the peach syrup with 2 tbsp. brown sugar and pour over the Spam. Bake 35 minutes at 375.

The prep:

I set the oven at 375 and went to work. It had been a while since I had eaten any Spam, and I had forgotten how softly pink it is, like a cartoon pig. Its fat content is obvious, and the smell is odd. My can had become slightly dented, so I squeezed the ends to pop the sides away from the block itself. It came out of the can in a solid piece, without leaving even a bit behind. I scored the top as shown in the recipe, sliced as instructed, and decorated it with peppercorns (I don’t like cloves).



I opened the can of peaches. It’s well-known that no one has bought peaches in heavy syrup since 1976, but these seemed fresh enough in appearance. I figured that getting the liquid to “set” was probably a part of this recipe, so I didn’t think I could skimp on them. I couldn’t resist and ate a peach slice immediately. One bite and I knew that “Lite” fruit cans suck. I had forgotten how tasty fruit packed this way is. I sipped the syrup. Wow. Anyway, I quickly found that the peaches were far too big to stick between the slices, especially in tandem as pictured.


Some fruits have obviously been bred to be larger over the years, and these peaches were big. To fit as pictured, the peaches would’ve originally had to be the size that I think of plums being, and I bet that’s a natural peachy size. I had to slice the slices in half to make them fit, and the Spam accordion still looked quite stuffed. I arranged the remaining peaches around the Spam and ate two more peach slices. I did the syrup/brown sugar glaze and popped it in the oven just as it clicked off the first time. Perfect.


The waiting:

I had picked this as the most edible bad recipe that I’ve ever seen. Having tasted the delightful peaches, I had almost resigned myself to the possibility that this recipe could even be “good.” In spite of its fifties origin, cultural misunderstanding, and processed meat product, FPSB might be tasty. It had just started smelling good when the 35 minutes were up.

The eating:

Well, mine achieved neither the sheen nor caramelized color of the Kodachrome (RIP 6-22-2009) version in the ad. In fact, it looked quite close to how it had before baking. Assured that I had prepared it properly and allured by the bubbling heavy syrup juices, I decided it was indeed time to eat. I cut a slice and arranged it with some peaches in a small dish, grabbed a wet paper towel for the no-doubt sticky juices, and dug in. It tasted like Spam with a peach slice on it. There was no magical blending of flavors. The photogenic caramelized glaze that I had envisioned was absent. It wasn’t even “crusty” on the outside at all. The peach slices were similarly hot but unchanged (and still ridiculously delicious).

The verdict:

It can be eaten. In fact, it can be improved. When I make it again (I can’t believe that I just typed that), I’ll probably bake it for at least an hour, and baste over it a couple of times with a spoon. It is cloyingly sweet, and it would probably be a big hit over at the Senior Center. I’m certain that kids would probably eat it, too. The ingredients have potential for an actually tasty combination. That said, as I mentioned in the Waiting section, this covers too many of the “bad recipe” bases for it to not be a bad one. It is. Further, I’ve calculated each serving to be a hefty 350 calories, and a serving isn’t big. The one shown in the white dish is generous on the peaches and is probably over 400. While I was a little disappointed, this is an especially edible but still bad recipe.