Spamtastic news, ya'll !!!
News flash, folks: You can buy Spam at a restaurant in Iowa Park, Texas.
You can thank me later for telling you.
I’m not lying about this because I don’t believe in toying with anyone’s emotions when it comes to Spam.
Just to be clear that I’m not talking about unwanted emails, Spam is a pork product of some kind nestled in a gelatenous substance of some kind, and intended for human consumption.
I was on vacation at Possum Kingdom Lake last week when I got a text saying that Spam was, in fact, being served at Guy’s Kitchen in Lakeside Travel Plaza in Iowa Park, where I eat lunch once a week.
And if you see any correlation between the words Possum Kingdom and Spam, that’s just not my fault.
Of course, I immediately told my husband in a tone of voice I usually reserve for the announcement of great news, like if Speedos were outlawed. Only he didn’t receive it as good news. Instead, he gagged a little because he doesn’t like Spam for some reason unknown to me.
But for Monday’s lunch, guess who popped their fat head into Guy’s Kitchen and demanded some of that Spam? Me, that’s who.
Bobby got the steak finger basket, which is outstanding by the way. But we’re talking about Spam this week.
Actually, I didn’t demand the Spam. If anything, I was kind of desperate for it, and they could have charged me double. I was desperate because I hadn’t eaten any since I got married one year ago to the day. It was the best anniversary gift I could give myself. The gift of Spam.
I ordered the Spam sandwich, at which time a group of men who are in there more often than Bobby and I started giving their critiques on the Spam sandwich – which was a resounding “order two, they’re just that good.” And they would know, because they had eaten them every day since Guy had started serving them. I trust that kind of recommendation. Unless they’re talking about calf fries or oysters, then I don’t trust it at all. But again, we’re talking about Spam.
I was so excited, I took a picture of Guy (CEO of Guy’s Kitchen) and a partially depleted case of Spam, which got depleted because of me and my lust for Spam.
I got my sandwich, and it was what I would call Spam sandwich perfection served up with mayo on buttered and grilled Texas toast.
While I was finishing up my 1,000 calorie sandwich, one of the men who has recently been sustaining his life on them stopped on his way out and asked how I like it.
I did the “thumbs up” symbol with buttery fingers because my mouth was full and my mama didn’t raise a redneck.
He was concerned because I didn’t get the sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes, and so much as said that vegetables should be included in every meal.
Apparently he didn’t see my bag of potato chips.
This column and random blogs may be read at www.karilynn-collins.com.