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Spam, Rice, and Eggs--A Local Hawaiian Boy's Favorite!
The #1 Place in the World Where Spam is Consumed
My Secret Life
Writing hubs is like having a secret life...an alter ego...a Walter Mitty fantasy.
My wife grew up in a vegetarian household. I grew up on Kaua'i.
I just said a lot, didn't I?
So now that I'm sitting in a corner of the Walla Walla Senior Center--a clubhouse for old folks, as I fondly refer to it--on the threshold of my sexagenarian decade, and looking over my shoulders to make sure my dear wife isn't here yet to pick me up, I can wax nostalgic about one of my favorite foods...
Let me pause here to make sure that you and I are on the same page.
The spam I'm referring to isn't the horrendous amount of junk mail you find in your inbox each morning.
Rather, it's the morning food I long to wake up smelling long before I see it cooking in the frying pan.
Mmm! That savory fragrance! Instantly triggering the seesaw buildup of anticipation...the pull between the id and the superego...the tug of war tension between complete, utter abandon and restrained, civilized sophistication
And if you add scrambled eggs and rice...ah, primo!
Auwe! (Hawaiian for alas! ) What's a local boy to do?
The Dilemma of Being a Closet Meat-Eater in a Vegetarian Household
You know...I can be pretty resourceful...
I could very well truck on over to Walmart and pick up a can of Spam. It wouldn't be too hard to stash in my backpack.
That beautiful blue can is so conveniently made for hiding just about anywhere in the house. Let's see, where's the least likely place my wife would look?
Ah, yes! If I push the can hard enough, it'll fit snugly in the recesses of my shoe. Placing a balled up pair of socks at the opening will look so natural.
But, then, how could I cook the darn thing? My wife has the best sniffer in the whole world. If she wasn't already a terrific nurse, she'd have made a good training officer for the local cop shop's K9 unit.
I mean, Spam is so delicious, and its aromatic flavor lingers in the kitchen like a perpetual afterlife. No amount of spraying air freshener or lighting those obnoxious candles my better half is so crazy about would ever conceal its tantalizing meaty pheromones.
So slap me silly with a loaf of Spam!
It's reality check time.
The best I can do is to dream about it every now and then.
Like now...when I'm chewing on these carrot and celery sticks.