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MERLE'S
SPAM
APPRECIATION PAGE
"It's been good to us since 1937. I've been good to it since 1941."


Hello and welcome. My name is Merle Haugland. I'm sixty-four, retired from thirty-one years with the county highway department, and I live in Albert Lea, Minnesota, which is just down Interstate 90 from Austin, which as every Spam fan knows is where the stuff comes from. On a good summer night with the wind right, I like to think I can smell it cooking. My wife Ardis says that's the neighbor's grill.

Folks laugh at Spam. I know they do. I've heard every joke. But I'll tell you what: in sixty-four years it has never once let me down, never gone bad in the cupboard, and never cost more than I had in my pocket. You can't say that about many things, and you certainly can't say it about my '74 Pontiac.

My granddaughter Kirsten built me this page last Christmas so I'd "quit telling the same Spam stories at dinner." Now I tell them to the whole world. She didn't think that through.


SPAM FACTS I CAN VOUCH FOR

  • Spam is made by Hormel Foods in Austin, Minnesota. It came out in 1937.
  • The name came out of a contest. The man who thought it up won a hundred dollars. Best hundred dollars anybody ever spent, if you ask me.
  • What does "Spam" stand for? The company has never really said. Most people guess "spiced ham." Ardis says it stands for "Something Placed Around Merle." She thinks she's funny.
  • What's in it? Read the can: pork with ham, salt, water, sugar, and sodium nitrite. That's the whole list. Some of the fancy stuff at the deli has a longer list than that.
  • During World War II it was shipped overseas by the millions of pounds to feed our soldiers and our allies. That's how it caught on in Hawaii, Guam, and all over the Pacific, where folks still love it more than anybody. Hawaii eats more Spam per person than any state in the Union.
  • There's a Lite version now, too. It's fine. I'm a regular man myself.
  • And no, this page has nothing to do with junk e-mail. That's a different spam, and frankly I think it's a shame they dragged the name into it.

MY LIFE IN SPAM

1941 First taste, age six, fried in my mother's cast iron pan on the farm outside Hartland. I asked for more. I have been asking for more ever since.
1945 My brother Orville came home from the Navy in the Pacific and announced he would never eat another bite of the stuff as long as he lived. He had it for Saturday breakfast every week for the next fifty years. We never said a word.
1958 Married Ardis. She brought a Spam-and-potato hotdish to the church supper the week we met. I have always said that's what did it. She says it was my haircut.
1966 Blizzard. Snowed in six days. Four kids, one woodstove, eleven cans of Spam. Best week of the winter.
1987 Our son Wayne took a job in Honolulu and married a wonderful girl named Leimomi, who taught this old Minnesotan that Spam goes on rice. I didn't believe her. I do now. See her musubi on the recipe page.
1998 This page. Kirsten says it's a "homepage." I say it's a pantry with a guestbook.

SPAM IN THE MOVIES, SORT OF

My son-in-law insists I mention the old English comedy sketch where everything on the diner menu comes with Spam and a table of Vikings breaks into song about it. I've seen it. I laughed. I'd also like to point out that the Spam was the only thing on that menu anybody wanted.

SPAM HAIKU

Kirsten tells me that people on the Internet write little Japanese poems about Spam, seventeen syllables apiece. I counted on my fingers and wrote three of my own:

Pink brick in the pan
the edges curl up golden
Ardis, get a plate
Blizzard on the roof
woodstove, four kids and a key
we'll be fine till spring
Grandson turns his nose
I fry it up anyway
now he wants seconds

>> MERLE'S SPAM RECIPES <<
fried Spam and eggs, Ardis's hotdish, Leimomi's musubi, and more


Fellow Spam fans served since Christmas 1998:
011122

Send me your Spam recipes and your Spam stories. The good ones go on the page.
E-mail Merle
[email protected]

Last updated Thursday, September 16, 1999
SPAM is a trademark of Hormel Foods. I'm just a fan. They don't pay me, though I'd take coupons.
© 1999 Merle Haugland, Albert Lea, Minnesota