Sure, Monty Python has had plenty of fun at Spam's expense (and made plenty of money in the process, I might add), but there's still a fair share of Brits who like being creative with their meat. (No giggling!)

Case in point, word has just come across the wire that "following the resounding success" of last year's inaugural event, Spam UK will once again be holding their Spam® Cook of the Year competition!

Spam chefs are encouraged to upload their unique Spam recipes and pictures to www.spam-uk.com. From there, seven regional winners will have the opportunity to showcase their canned meat concoctions at the "star studded final in London in June 2009." [Their emphasis, not mine. Personally, I wouldn't have the audacity.] The grand prize? An all-expenses-paid trip to the 2010 SPAM JAM® Festival!

Now, I know what you're thinking, but muffle those arrogant guffaws... The 2010 festival location: Waikiki, Hawaii. Not too shabby, huh? (Plus £500 spending money, which in American dollars, depending on the economy, is worth approximately somewhere between $1000 and absolutely nothing.)

Unfortunately, Spam® UK Cook of the Year is only open to residents of the United Kingdom -- though I'm sure die-hard, international Spam chefs will consider achieving British citizenship just an "added kink to the application process." But before you go hunting down a green card, fun can still be found for us Americans on Spam.com including details on the Great American SPAM Championship. Dry British wit not included.

More details on SPAM UK Cook of the Year here.

[Photo Credit: spam-uk.com]

When it comes to food, I rarely turn down a dare. Whether the food in question is haggis or headcheese, tongue tacos or tortoise soup, I'm usually up for a challenge. Even so, there is one food that I have studiously avoided for my entire life.

Spam.

It's not that I'm opposed to processed meat. I've eaten more than my fair share of scrapple, pate, pon hoss, sausage, blood pudding, and other ground goodies. However, there's something about Spam that always turned me off. Maybe it was the 1950's-style ads on the old-fashioned can, or maybe it's the fact that the meat was just a little too pink. Regardless, I could never bring myself to give it a try.

Recently, however, amid reports of the growing popularity of the canned meat, I felt like the time had come to give it a try. After all, with some of America's top chefs using Spam in their cooking, my detachment started to seem a little provincial. Besides, the ingredients (pork shoulder, ham, water, sugar, salt, sodium nitrite, and potato starch) are a lot more natural than I might have thought, and the price is certainly attractive.

One of the great things about delicacies is that, while they may be rare, they are only worth what someone is willing to pay for them. For example, sturgeon eggs may be a taste treat, but if nobody is willing to fork over the a small fortune, then they are, essentially, just bait. Recently, this simple fact has become quite important as lobster, which was once priced well out of the range of the average person has started to come within reach. The freakish crustaceans are now going for about $2.50 per pound wholesale, down from a high of about $10 per pound in spring 2007. In terms of retail price, this translates into a drop of at least $4 per pound. In some Boston-area seafood markets, the price hovered in the $7 range earlier this year; depending upon one's location, it has subsequently dipped well below that.

There are two big reasons for the great lobster drop. One is the fact that many high-end consumers, the kinds of people who could afford to eat lobster regularly, were hit particularly hard by 2008's financial meltdown. The second reason lies in the collapse of Iceland's economy: seafood producers in Canada that used Icelandic banks have not been able to get the credit they need to buy large amounts of lobster.

Personally, I'm going to be taking advantage of this sudden piece of good news. While I'm not a big fan of shelled lobster - to be honest, the huge crustaceans remind me of aquatic cockroaches and the whole lobster dining experience is disturbingly like an alien autopsy - lobster tails and lobster bisque are among my favorites. What's more, with lobster going for a fraction of its former price, this might be the perfect time for a Monty Python recipe that I've always wanted to try: Lobster Thermidor Aux Crevettes with Mornay Sauce, Truffle Pate, Brandy, Fried Egg and Spam. While I'm at it, I'm also keeping an eye on other delicacies; after all, who knows what will drop next?

Turn off your spam-blockers and get ready for an avalanche of salty, eraser-colored porktastic goodness. The other day, I wrote about how Spam is ramping up production to meet recession-fueled demand. Some of you passionately defended the oft-ridiculed meat product; others requested Spam recipes. So I rounded up a few of the best Spam-cooking sites, just for you.

First, check out the aptly named spamrecipes.net, which gives Spam a vaguely International makeover with recipes like Spam frittata, Spam carbonara and Cantonese Spam. Spam's own website has recipes from its test kitchen as well as contributions from fans like Spam salad cones and Maui Spam muffins. Just Recipes has 359 Spam recipes, from A Good Hot (Spam) Sandwich to Zippy Spam and Pesto Biscuits.

As for me, I still favor the classic Southern Spam sandwich: A thick slab of skillet-fried Spam between two slices of Duke's mayonnaise-slathered Wonder Bread with a sliced summer tomato.

Spam, that most mocked of foods, is apparently experiencing an upswing thanks to the recession. People may not be able to afford steak, but they can always dig up some change for a $1.99 can of putty-pink goodness. So the industrious workers at the Hormel factory in Austin, Minnesota are cranking out the Spam 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, according to the New York Times. That equals about 150,000 cans of Spam daily.

Spam is just one of the many cheap, filling foodstuffs flying off the shelf across America. Others include pancake mixes, instant mashed potatoes, and Jello-O. While I'm not opposed to the occasional fried Spam sandwich on white bread with mayo and tomatoes, when it comes to budget food I'll stick to lentils and tuna, thanks.

Last week the new COOL (country of origin label) labeling went into effect. The legislation was actually created years ago but faced stiff resistance from the food industry. However, the recent salmonella outbreak in the US and the Listeria outbreak in Canada have made it impossible to hold it back anymore, and the labels have to be implemented within six months.

Some lawmakers and consumer groups are worried about the loopholes, though. According to Bloomberg.com, loopholes in the legislation allow foods of mixed origin to be exempt. That includes things like mixed vegetables, Spam, processed meats, and mixed nuts.

Some lawmakers are looking into making changes to close the loopholes, but of course the industrial food lobby's are against that. They're worried about how much all of the new labeling is going to cost. I understand that, but are their up front costs worth risking the health of consumers?

[Via Coldmud]

I have a faint recollection of eating Spam when I was a kid. I know that my mom bought it once in a while, but I tried it a while back and I don't think it's something I would try again (that film on top...gah). I think the only way I would try it is if it's in a recipe where it's cooked a lot or smothered with other flavors.

Like the recipe after the jump. It's for Spaghetti Carbonara and it comes courtesy of spamrecipes.net.

I love Japanese food. And I love Monty Python. But the two can never blend.

So when one blogger sent a URL describing Spam onigiri, I naturally launched into Monty Python's immortal "Spam Sketch" (Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!....) while simultaneously dreaming about the taste of those glorious triangles of rice Japanese eat for lunch...until I stopped short.

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?

When I hear the phrase spam and eggs the first thing I usually think of is Monty Python. That's not to say that I haven't ever enjoyed the guilty pleasure of a sandwich of scrambled eggs and Spam. But the much maligned potted meat is more than an occasional meal item in Hawaii, it's an institution.

McDonald's has offered the pinkish mystery meat as part of its breakfast menu in Hawaii for five years. Now its rival Burger King is getting in on the action. The King recently began offering the Spam Platter, which consists of two slabs of Spam, flanked on either side by white rice and scrambled eggs. The Croissanwich or Biscuit Sandwich with Spam have also been added to the menu. I wonder if they've created any ad spots with the King flashing the "hang loose" sign with one hand while digging into a Spam platter with the other.

Meatpaper is the self-proclaimed "journal of meat culture," and judging from what's up at their site, they're correct.

The site is filled with several articles on the "arts and ideas about meat," including pieces about the dry-aging room at New York's Master Purveyors, pig slaughter in Italy, why Filipinos eat Spam, and getting over the guilt of eating meat. There are also links to various food blogs.

The site itself says that they "like metaphors more than marinating tips," which I take as an indication that they're going to be talking about the world of food and not recipes and kitchen advice. They're taking subscriptions now, so you might want to check it out.

The idea behind most food websites, food blogs included, is to write about good food. Good recipes, excellent restaurants and tasty products are among the things frequently written up on these sites. Wild Recipes has a slightly different goal, however. The site is dedicated to the weirdest, most outrageous - by which they usually mean disgusting - foods that people actually eat.

Old fashioned scrapple, Rocky Mountain oysters, head cheese and brains are all included on the site, but there are far stranger dishes than the ones that simply involve cooking the less appetizing bits of animals. For example, how would you feel about a Spam milkshake (pictured) with anchovies, mustard and beer? Or would you be likely to put a few slices of Cheddar cheese in your morning coffee then "slurp down the glob of melted cheese" once you've finished off the liquid? Granted, the cheese coffee is unappealing in a way that is different from the "oysters," but that doesn't make it any less disgusting.

Most of the entries have recipes should you be so inclined to try them and there are seven pages of dishes to choose from, and just about all of them are accompanied by a story describing how the submitter first came across the dish.

[via neatorama]

Web Zen's latest compendium of brain candy is devoted to Spam, both the canned "meat" and junk e-mail. Spamhenge (pictured) comes from a site devoted to the Seventh Annual Spam Scultpure Contest. There's also a link to the Spammobile, Hormel's answer to the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.

If you're planning a white-trash menu for Thanksgiving this year you may want to look at the link for Spam recipes. It includes such delicacies as cheesy country spam puffs and New Mexican Spam soup. Naturally, Web Zen includes a link to the Spam Haiku Archive. And they'd be remiss if they didn't include a Youtube link to the infamous Monty Python sketch. Note the Japanese subtitles. The non-food related links are pretty cool, too. Especially the one on how to strike back at e-mail scammers.
[via Boing Boing]

To commemorate the opening of the Monty Python musical Spamalot in London, Hormel is unleashing Stinky French Garlic Spam upon the British Isles. I'm not quite sure how I missed it, but the makers of the much-maligned canned meat product, introduced this "collector's edition" tin in the States some two years ago when the show made its New York debut.

Hormel's European arm plans to step up its decidely tongue-in-cheek campaign by sending a tin of Stinky French Garlic Spam to Jacques Chirac. This move is inspired by Chirac's tendency to complain about British chow. It's also a tip of the hat to the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where French soldiers and King Arthur's knights trade insults, notably, "I fart in your general direction."

Although he used to eat spam, Eric Idle (pictured), the musical's creator, hasn't tasted the funky new flavor. He gave up meat more than 30 years ago. Has anyone out there had the, er, pleasure of sampling this Pythonesque product?

Gmail got a little inspiration from all of those spam e-mails and created their spam recipe folder, offering up hundreds, perhaps thousands, of span recipes. They don't take into account the content of those e-mails, which as we all know, seems to be about viagra more than half the time. The recipes get a little more inventive if you consider their contents and start making viagra-themed spam recipes. Whether you actually want to attempt any of them is a matter of personal preference, but a giant viagra mousse (above) or some dyed-blue spam tempura in the little blue pill's signature diamond shape would probably be a hit at parties whether people actually opted to taste them or not.

And you might want to pick up some viagra gelato for dessert, too.