The pumpkin spice Spam latte
'Tis the season, dickholes!
I blew it.
Just last week, Spam (yes, that Spam), released a vulgar flavor that I’m sure someone over there thought was very clever: Pumpkin spice.
I imagine that when the marketing executive initially came up with the idea (more likely, their very hard-working subordinate, whose idea was then stolen by their boss), they ran around the office covering their mouth saying, “Tee hee!”
I am still waiting for the year that Charmin comes out with a pumpkin spice toilet paper. I would gladly spend my hard-earned money to make my b-hole smell like Thanksgiving.
I’ve already flown off the rails and veered this piece straight into buttholes, because I’m 12 (38). That did not take very long.
When I initially learned about Pumpkin Spice Spam, my mouth said, “Ugh. Disgusting.” That’s when my mind said, gleefully, “Ugh. Disgusting!”
As usual, I screwed up, forgot about this thing that I’d gotten so excited about, and the Spam sold out while I was at work. But thanks to my friend Kris, who was kind enough to send me a pack of Pumpkin Spice Spam, we are all here today to admire something stupid I did with food. Everyone, please thank Kris!
“Dannis Ree, you big dumb sack of donkey nuts,” I thought to myself, “What is something terrible you can do with this Pumpkin Spice Spam that will get you a lot of no-reason clicks, make people think you are an innovative culinary genius, and get people to pay money to subscribe to your Substack? I know. Shameless, but, support the (f)arts!”
Dickholes, I present to you: THE PUMPKIN SPICE SPAM LATTE.
Also, that was sort of an easy idea. Everyone talks shit about pumpkin spiced anything. Personally, I think pumpkin pie is one of the worst things on earth, and I eat it exactly once a year to confirm I hate it, but if you like it, that is okay. I enjoy pet food and I am the last person to talk.
Meet Scat.
Yes, her name is Scat, and she’s a Beanie Baby that Davida rescued from a thrift store, precisely because her name is honest-to-God Scat. It’s a match made in heaven in so many ways I can’t get my mind wrapped around it.
Pumpkin spice Spam, right away, doesn’t look terribly different from the regular version, which I truly do love.
However, if you look a little bit more closely, it does have a slightly brown tinge to it, and it smells distinctly like a meated Yankee Candle. I took a curious bite out of it right out of the can and immediately hated it. Because it tasted like a meated Yankee Candle.
Davida took a bite and said, “I like it. It tastes like the holidays. Like a Christmas ham.” I love her and part of being a strong partnership is dealing with our differences.
To coax the maximum flavor out of this sullied meat product I love, I pan-fried it until it browned.
After that, I minced it up into tiny bits. You’ll see why in a second.
And to continue driving this car off a cliff, I boiled a piece of pumpkin spice Spam in water to extract its soul into liquid form.
The possibilities are endless with this technique. Let’s do Meat Gatorade next.
The reason why I chopped up the pumpkin spice Spam into little bits was so I could force-brew it with coffee in this nice Aeropress my friend Mandy gave us.
An Aeropress makes a quick cup of coffee without having to use an entire coffeemaker, plus it uses high pressure to quickly brew coffee. In my superior culinary train of thought, it’d jam even more Spam flavor right into that Spam-flavored water I’d just boiled up for the coffee.
Using her extraordinary strength, Davida pushed the Spam-infused water into the Spam bits and coffee grinds.
I haven’t used my muscles in so long they’ve atrophied and fallen completely off my body, which makes me useless for pushing on coffee plungers. Because of this, I won’t need a Halloween costume this year; I’ll just run around fully naked. Terrifying, for multiple reasons.
This part was a little challenging since I wanted a delightful fluffy meat cream to pour into the meat coffee.
I took the remaining amount of pumpkin spice Spam bits and infused them into some milk. What I’m really saying is that I put them into a deli container with cow hooter juice and shook the ever loving shit out of it. Then, to get the texture just right, I used this milk-frothing technique to accurately simulate being in the worst Starbucks in the world.
Cow hooter juice. I just came up with that on the spot. I just won a James Beard Award. Actually, I just won all of the James Beard Awards.
I took a sip, started laughing, and wordlessly handed the mug over to Davida.
She said, “The coffee is weird in that the initial taste is pretty repulsive because of the salt, but the aftertaste was super pleasant. I’d probably pay up to $6 for one with minimal regret.”
I don’t know, man. It really was a mouthful of meaty, salty, creamy coffee with the aroma of an entire Bath and Body Works stocked full of holiday bullshit. I had a hard time with it, but when the taste of something makes you actually laugh, well. Mission accomplished. I’m not sure what mission, but it was definitely accomplished.
Thanks again, Kris and Mandy, for making this possible.
If you don’t subscribe, that’s okay, I’m just guilting you into doing stuff like sharing this on social media, because I made Spam infused coffee and everyone else should suffer too.
Also, we went to see Coolio perform last Saturday (yes, you read that correctly). The best part of the show was when he forgot the lyrics to one of his songs, tried to Google them, couldn’t read his phone since he didn’t have his reading glasses (he’s 56), and just decided to skip it entirely. Here he is hanging out the front window of the theater, actually apologizing about it.
Thanks, Kris!