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Most importantly, you learn that being a foodie takes a surprising amount of nerve and an unsurprising amount of money.

Few foods are exempt from this rule, offering the supple, melt-in-your-mouth texture of foie gras and the salty bite of caviar without the steep price. Spam is among these rare ingredients. But like many of the world’s finest gourmet offerings, it too requires some mental acrobatics to enjoy.

Much like Guy Fieri, Spam is an easy punch-line.

Mostly, you have to get over the fact that you’re eating Spam, a food with a name so vile it conjures up images of junk mail long before signifying anything delicious. Much like Guy Fieri, Spam is an easy punch-line. Its crude packaging, which features dated yellow font and a fat slice of Spam accompanied by wilting American cheese on a hamburger bun, has not changed much since the product was invented in America in 1937.

But while the packaging is vehemently off-putting, it makes no promises that it can’t keep. Unlike modern bags of potato chips and cookies with Photoshopped imagery on the packaging, what you see is what you get with Spam.

Boasting a cheap price-tag and long shelf life, the utilitarian meat has become an edible symbol of history. It was a staple in U.S. soldier’s diets in the Second World War, and the occupations that followed. During this time, Spam was introduced into the Philippines, Hawaii, Japan and Korea, becoming an essential part of each country’s native cuisine. Freed from the preconceived notions attached to the canned meat, those discovering Spam for the first time likely found it easy to appreciate its decadent and buttery flavour.