I confess: I'm a first-time SPAM fryer. No form of SPAM had ever been cooked in my kitchen. I'm told it's a generational thing. Although I'm sure it helped make the Greatest Generation so great, I'm OK with having missed out on regularly eating SPAM casserole.

What's much more fun than eating SPAM, or so I hear, is watching Monty Python make fun of SPAM, as is done in the play, "Spamalot," appearing at the Benedum Center, Downtown, this week, as part of the PNC Broadway series.

Granted, it's really not that hard to mock the stuff, but Monty Python is particularly adept at it.

But jokes are always more thoroughly enjoyed when you know what they're talking about. And because "Spamalot" is coming to town again, it seemed an appropriate time for an introduction to the culinary icon. Re-introduction, really. Mom once fried some SPAM for my brothers and ne when we were little. Salt fiends that we were, we thought it was delicious.

So this past Sunday afternoon, I found myself in the curious position of having SPAM on my grocery list. I had my doubts that the Market District Giant Eagle, with its imported cheese and organic acorn squash, would deign to shelve SPAM. But there, in aisle 6B, to the right of cousin canned tuna, sat stacks of SPAM. Classic, Reduced Fat and Low Sodium. On sale. Two for $5. What a steal. I chose the Classic.

I'd decided on making SPAM Fritters, mostly by default, really. The idea of whipping up a steaming dish of SPAM-scargot, slicing a thick piece of SPAM bread or taking a whiff of SPAM cheesecake (a recipe that includes black olives, chutney, brandy and blue cheese) didn't appeal to my palate. But SPAM Fritters -- cubes of the meat covered with a mixture of flour, egg and milk and deep fried, then dipped in barbecue sauce -- seemed acceptable enough. The delightful consequence of immersing absolutely anything in hot, popping oil is that, no matter the foodstuff, it turns out tasty.

SPAM on the counter, recipe at the ready, all I needed was someone to help eat it -- or at least try it. Enter Justin.

This is my friend who sprinkles nutritional yeast flakes over his stove-popped popcorn. "It's good for you! Nutritional is in the title!" he'll cry defensively, knowing the flakes look like yellow fish food and probably don't taste a whole lot better.

Every possible cooking preparation was in place. I couldn't procrastinate anymore. It was time to open the SPAM.

I popped the tab and pulled it back to reveal our dinner. I tried to dump it on the cutting board. Nothing. I squeezed. Nothing. I pounded. Nothing. I got a butter knife and slid it around the sides. Presto. There it lay, a pink and mottled mini-brick of pre-cooked ground pork and ham.

Justin peered over my shoulder, envisioning, I'm sure, SPAM with nutritional yeast flakes.

I diced it up. SPAM now tops my list of Freakishly Easy Things To Cut (along with .... ahhh ... nothing else, really). In 30 seconds, I had two dozen cubes of the stuff piled on the cutting board. Justin braved a piece.

He shrugged. "Salty."

It all got tossed into the batter and then, in spoonfuls, into the frying pan. A smoke alarm alert or two later, we were ready to try SPAM Fritters.

I was shocked. Amazed. Overwhelmed to learn that ... deep frying doesn't make everything tasty. Granted, the SPAM cubes were assuredly much tastier post-deep fry than pre-deep fry, but the weird squishy texture and SPAMish aftertaste went unmasked. Even with barbecue sauce.

Within 10 minutes of eating no more than a half-dozen, I felt too full to move. Like some virus, the consumed SPAM fritters had multiplied, rendering me immobile and slightly nauseous. Justin felt the same as we sighed a mutual "Ugh."

Thankfully, we do not have the responsibility that comes with belonging to the Greatest Generation and upholding its golden image. So we tossed the remaining fritters.

Justin returned home to detox with organic acorn squash and filtered water. And I, shuffling through the kitchen, spotted it. The second can of SPAM Classic.

SPAM, anyone?

• 3/4 cup of flour


• Pinch of salt


• 1 egg, separated


• 1/2 cup of milk


• 1 can SPAM


• Oil for frying


• Barbecue sauce

Sift flour and salt together and then beat in the egg yolk and milk until smooth. Dice SPAM and add to batter. Whisk egg white until stiff and fold into batter. Drop spoonfuls of batter into deep, hot oil. Cook until golden and crisp, approximately three to four minutes. Drain. Serve immediately on cocktail sticks with your favorite barbecue sauce.

Serves 6.