I have never understood why there could even be a debate about Spam, but taking my own family as an example, I suppose it should be expected. My family is divided. My Mom and I can't stand the sight or smell of what looks like, well, Spam. Dad and sisters, on the other hand, absolutely love the stuff, and in fact, will do what I consider an act of utter I-don't-know-what, eat Spam "raw," straight out of the can.

I am absolutely intrigued that there has to be a sizeable enough contingent of Spam-lovers that almost 6 billion cans of the processed meat have been produced since its introduction into the world. Inspired by an article by Brad Schleicher and Stephanie Shapiro in the Baltimore Sun last week, I wondered, "Do people who claim to like Spam really like how it tastes? What is it about the stuff that is so appealing? Or even a little bit appealing?"

Schleicher says he loves it. In fact, he describes his first childhood memory of it: "I loved the strong aroma, the rich flavor and the smooth and creamy texture. That moment for me was a lot like the one most kids experience eating their first ice-cream sundaes, except that my food wasn't a sundae. It happened to be cold processed ham and pork."

On the other (more sensible, in my opinion) hand, Shapiro hates Spam. She says, ""Spam was the color of the 1950s: preternaturally pink, a slightly speckled flesh tone shared by Caucasians and pigs. When fried, Spam acquired an even more unfortunate hue, kind of like a radioactive tongue."

So I ask you, dear Slashfood readers, about Spam. Do you love it? Or, do you, like me, hate it?

It's a bit out of season, but I can't help loving these stainless steel straw spoons anyway. Exactly what they sound like, these are straws that have small spoon projections on one end that make it easy to scoop up ice cream or fruit from a cold milkshake, float or smoothie, but still give you the ability to sip the liquidy parts. Usually, you'll only see cheap plastic versions of these at 1950s-themed eateries (and the occasional convenience store), but because of the material used to make these, they are built to last for repeated uses. They're great to have on hand in the summer when you're more likely to indulge in an ice cream-based drink on a regular basis.

They're $10 for a package of four and would make a great gift with a set of sundae glasses, especially if the recipient is someone who really likes root beer floats.

As someone who wasn't around for the 1950s, I have to ask, is this what it was like?

I recently stumbled upon Plan59, "the museum (and gift shop) of mid-century illustration." While Plan59 has all manner of illustrations and advertisements from the 1950s, what really drew me in was the Gallery of Demonic Tots and Deeply Disturbing Cuisine. That's where I found the charming young lady you see here. I thought of including a different illustration, but I didn't want to freak anyone out too much right off the bat. Personally, I think these images are great (they sort of have an eerie, Loretta Lux quality). However, I don't know what the original advertisers were thinking. I don't have kids, but I don't think I'd ever want them to feel the frenzied, lock-jawed type of glee this little girl seems to be experiencing. Especially not over a loaf of bread or a can of beans.

Oh, and if the kids are too much for you, there are ads with just pictures of food. Truth be told, these no less disturbing (ok, maybe a little less). But really, the Velveeta Golden Glory Casserole? It appears to be a bowl of mac and cheese, topped with hard boiled eggs and more Velveeta, all ringed by some less than ideal tomatoes. Oh, and remember, keep the box of Velveeta on the table for good measure.

When I was focusing on slow cooking last week, I picked up a couple of 1950s and 1960s cookbooks. Immediately all we could talk about on the Slashfood chatline was retro cookery, casseroles, and fifties recipes. We were tittering about "Oriental cookery" and the overuse of canned, condensed soups. We were waxing eloquent about tuna casserole. (Well, I was waxing eloquent about tuna.)

Tuesday, then, we'll be taking you back to the 1940s, 50s and 60s. We'll be making tuna casseroles 20 ways. We'll discuss MSG - then a miracle ingredient called for in nearly every cookbook - and we'll reprise our favorite meatloaf and macaroni & cheese recipes.

We'll take you through a few more vintage cookbooks, we'll explore the wonders of 50s-style Chop Suey, we'll delight in frozen peas & carrots, we'll put "hidden surprises" in everything we can. We'll bring you back 50 years to the era where "housewife" was a designation of pride and little boys wore sailor suits. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Chicken Pie De Luxe to start baking...

Old is new again as vintage cookbooks are rediscovered online. These books, previously relegated to the back of closets everywhere, are being dusted off, opened and enjoyed. They were even the subject of a blogging event. They range from the insightful - perhaps an old Joy of Cooking - to the bizarre, like this old copy of The Ground Meat Cookbook from the 50s found via BoingBoing.

The cookbook contains "204 intriguing ground meat recipes", but also contains general cooking tips, lovely illustrations and surprisingly appetizing photography. It is unlikely I would want to try the "Jellied Veal Loaf", but I do think I will take a look through the back of my grandparents' kitchen cupboard the next time I visit.