An ode to Spam (sort of)
Food is an easy way to access a culture (as the wife of the Chilean consul to Seoul has also said). As a Korean-American who's never been back to Korea, Korean food has been the constant reminder in my life of my heritage. But, until reading the John Heffer piece on Korean food, I had not thought about how much it has been impacted by globalization and cultural and political processes that often occur very far from South (and North) Korea. So, I suppose the quote by Bourdieu in Toby Miller's "From Brahmin Julia to Working-Class Emeril" about diet as the "choice of destiny, but a forced choice" is true (qtd. on p. 76). Examples of this forced choice in South Korea are farmers selling their rice and buying cheaper foods to eat and the creation of budae chigae as Heffer outlined. When my parents go out to eat, they really only like to eat Korean food, and so we go to Korean restaurants often. I think that is why I always thought jajangmyun and tangsuyuk were purely Korean dishes. But, Heffer says that during the 1960s and 1970s these Koreanized Chinese dishes were a way for Koreans to have a taste of the "foreign" when international choices were limited (24). Maybe that's part of the reason why my family gravitates towards Korean-style Chinese restaurants when going out to eat -- because when my parents were growing up, eating Korean-style Chinese food represented a treat.
I think that Spam's journey to Korea and its lasting significance in Korean food culture is a great example of cultural globalism. In the article below, it talks about how Korean Spam actually has less sodium than the American version, which is an example of the "glocalization" that Heffer describes when talking about the Coca-Cola company and its worldwide success. On a more personal level, I have always loved eating it in my mom's kimchi chigae, and I have great memories of my mom frying up some Spam dipped into egg for breakfast with some rice and kimchi. And, I plan on going to the Spam museum in Minnesota one day (in an ironic sort of fashion, of course).
P.S. This has nothing to do with Korean food, but Heffer's discussion about the use of bad English in Korean advertisements made me think of this article.
(The following article about the Korean love of spam is from 2005, which is why I can't find a proper link for it.)
When Only Slabs of Pink, Jellied Byproduct Will Do
SEOUL — Stroll into an expensive department store and walk straight past the $180 watermelon with a ribbon twirled just so around its stem. Don't bother with the tea in a butterfly-shaped tin for $153, or with the gift boxes of Belgian chocolates or French cheeses.
If you're looking for a gift that bespeaks elegance and taste, you might try Spam. The luncheon meat might be the subject of satire back home in the U.S., but in South Korea, it is positively classy. With $136 million in sales, South Korea is the largest market in the world for Spam outside the United States. But here, some consider the pink luncheon meat with its gelatinous shell too nice to buy for themselves, and 40% of the Spam is purchased as gifts.
Especially during the holidays, you can see the blue-and-yellow cans neatly stacked in the aisles of the better stores. South Koreans are nearly as passionate about packaging as the Japanese are, and the Spam often comes wrapped in boxed sets. A set of 12 cans costs $44.
"Spam really is a luxury item," said Han Geun Rae, 43, an impeccably dressed fashion buyer who was loading gift boxes of Spam into a cart at the Shinsegae department store before the recent Chusok holiday.
Chusok is the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving, and the biggest gift-giving occasion of the year here. On this holiday alone, Korean distributor CJ Corp. estimates, 8 million cans of Spam change hands.
Han's intended recipients were her employees, among them a young single man and a married woman with children. "Everybody loves it," Han said. "It is so easy and convenient."
She was expecting to get her own complement of Spam as well — in previous Chusok seasons, about a third of gifts she received were food sets that contained at least one can of Spam. "My children are in high school and they love it," she said. "I cook it in jjigae stew with kimchi.
"It goes very nicely with red wine," said another shopper, 44-year-old Kim Hwa Yeon, a stockbroker in a crisp navy blue suit and pearls, who said she was buying for clients.
Spam's success in South Korea is one of those cultural mysteries — a bit like the reverence for Jerry Lewis in France — where an image is improved in translation. South Koreans take their Spam quite seriously and seem mystified as to why it is a subject of parody among Americans.
"I can't understand what is funny about Spam," said Jeon Pyoung Soo, a CJ Corp. executive who is brand manager here for Spam.
Jeon recalled a recent visit to Austin, Minn., where Spam's manufacturer, Hormel Foods Corp., has created a museum devoted to the history and cult of Spam. Highlights include a 1970 Monty Python skit in which a group of Vikings drowns out all other conversation with a chorus of "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam." (The skit is credited with the word "spam" coming into use to mean unsolicited e-mails that likewise clog a computer's inbox.)
"Everybody was laughing and smiling but me," said the 27-year-old Jeon, who went to business school in the United States and is fluent in English. "I knew all the words, but I didn't get the joke."
Not coincidentally, Spam is also popular in Hawaii, the Philippines, Okinawa, Guam and Saipan, all places with a history of a U.S. military presence. The "Miracle Meat in a Can," as it was touted after its launch in 1937, was a staple of the GI diet during World War II and the 1950-53 Korean War.
Until 1987, South Koreans had to buy black-market cans of Spam that had been diverted from U.S. military bases. Then CJ Corp. bought the rights from Hormel and began producing its own version at a factory south of Seoul.
In the postwar years, Spam was a special treat for South Koreans, who could rarely afford meat and didn't have refrigeration at home. It is harder to explain its cachet today in the world's 11th-largest economy, where there is no shortage of fresh meat and things associated with the U.S. military are considered low class.
Moreover, other American brands haven't done well here, perhaps because South Koreans have a strong attachment to their own cuisine, as is evident to anyone who has seen them carrying their own stocks of kimchi while traveling abroad.
"There are so many cases where foreign brands have failed. Kellogg's cereals, for example. It was not possible to pass on American breakfast tastes to Koreans," said Kim Tai Joon, the head of the processed-meat division of CJ Corp. "But we have adapted Spam to the Korean food culture to the point that people think of it as a Korean food."
The South Korean version of Spam has less salt than the American recipe, and somewhat different spices. Koreans don't eat it in sandwiches like Americans do, but rather fried with rice or in a soup or stew. Sometimes it is rolled into kimbab, the Korean version of sushi.
"It is easy for old people and children to chew," said Choi Hyun Ju, a 28-year-old sales clerk who was wearing a red miniskirt and high white boots to promote Spam at the Shinsegae store, when asked to explain Spam's popularity.
Back in Minnesota, even some Hormel executives find it difficult to explain why their product is so admired abroad.
"It is a curious thing about Spam that in the Far East, it is taken very seriously, while in the United States, particularly on college campuses, it has this quirky, kitschy retro feel to it," said Julie Craven, public relations manager for Hormel.
Long ago, the company decided that since it couldn't elevate Spam's image at home, it might as well embrace its cult status. The company runs a Spam fan club, sells products ranging from Spam pajamas to books such as "The 100 Best Spam Jokes," and has released collector's-edition cans to mark last year's opening of the Broadway musical "Spamalot," which lampoons both the meat product and the Monty Python movies.
"When it comes to Spam," Craven said, "we get the joke."
If you're looking for a gift that bespeaks elegance and taste, you might try Spam. The luncheon meat might be the subject of satire back home in the U.S., but in South Korea, it is positively classy. With $136 million in sales, South Korea is the largest market in the world for Spam outside the United States. But here, some consider the pink luncheon meat with its gelatinous shell too nice to buy for themselves, and 40% of the Spam is purchased as gifts.
Especially during the holidays, you can see the blue-and-yellow cans neatly stacked in the aisles of the better stores. South Koreans are nearly as passionate about packaging as the Japanese are, and the Spam often comes wrapped in boxed sets. A set of 12 cans costs $44.
"Spam really is a luxury item," said Han Geun Rae, 43, an impeccably dressed fashion buyer who was loading gift boxes of Spam into a cart at the Shinsegae department store before the recent Chusok holiday.
Chusok is the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving, and the biggest gift-giving occasion of the year here. On this holiday alone, Korean distributor CJ Corp. estimates, 8 million cans of Spam change hands.
Han's intended recipients were her employees, among them a young single man and a married woman with children. "Everybody loves it," Han said. "It is so easy and convenient."
She was expecting to get her own complement of Spam as well — in previous Chusok seasons, about a third of gifts she received were food sets that contained at least one can of Spam. "My children are in high school and they love it," she said. "I cook it in jjigae stew with kimchi.
"It goes very nicely with red wine," said another shopper, 44-year-old Kim Hwa Yeon, a stockbroker in a crisp navy blue suit and pearls, who said she was buying for clients.
Spam's success in South Korea is one of those cultural mysteries — a bit like the reverence for Jerry Lewis in France — where an image is improved in translation. South Koreans take their Spam quite seriously and seem mystified as to why it is a subject of parody among Americans.
"I can't understand what is funny about Spam," said Jeon Pyoung Soo, a CJ Corp. executive who is brand manager here for Spam.
Jeon recalled a recent visit to Austin, Minn., where Spam's manufacturer, Hormel Foods Corp., has created a museum devoted to the history and cult of Spam. Highlights include a 1970 Monty Python skit in which a group of Vikings drowns out all other conversation with a chorus of "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam." (The skit is credited with the word "spam" coming into use to mean unsolicited e-mails that likewise clog a computer's inbox.)
"Everybody was laughing and smiling but me," said the 27-year-old Jeon, who went to business school in the United States and is fluent in English. "I knew all the words, but I didn't get the joke."
Not coincidentally, Spam is also popular in Hawaii, the Philippines, Okinawa, Guam and Saipan, all places with a history of a U.S. military presence. The "Miracle Meat in a Can," as it was touted after its launch in 1937, was a staple of the GI diet during World War II and the 1950-53 Korean War.
Until 1987, South Koreans had to buy black-market cans of Spam that had been diverted from U.S. military bases. Then CJ Corp. bought the rights from Hormel and began producing its own version at a factory south of Seoul.
In the postwar years, Spam was a special treat for South Koreans, who could rarely afford meat and didn't have refrigeration at home. It is harder to explain its cachet today in the world's 11th-largest economy, where there is no shortage of fresh meat and things associated with the U.S. military are considered low class.
Moreover, other American brands haven't done well here, perhaps because South Koreans have a strong attachment to their own cuisine, as is evident to anyone who has seen them carrying their own stocks of kimchi while traveling abroad.
"There are so many cases where foreign brands have failed. Kellogg's cereals, for example. It was not possible to pass on American breakfast tastes to Koreans," said Kim Tai Joon, the head of the processed-meat division of CJ Corp. "But we have adapted Spam to the Korean food culture to the point that people think of it as a Korean food."
The South Korean version of Spam has less salt than the American recipe, and somewhat different spices. Koreans don't eat it in sandwiches like Americans do, but rather fried with rice or in a soup or stew. Sometimes it is rolled into kimbab, the Korean version of sushi.
"It is easy for old people and children to chew," said Choi Hyun Ju, a 28-year-old sales clerk who was wearing a red miniskirt and high white boots to promote Spam at the Shinsegae store, when asked to explain Spam's popularity.
Back in Minnesota, even some Hormel executives find it difficult to explain why their product is so admired abroad.
"It is a curious thing about Spam that in the Far East, it is taken very seriously, while in the United States, particularly on college campuses, it has this quirky, kitschy retro feel to it," said Julie Craven, public relations manager for Hormel.
Long ago, the company decided that since it couldn't elevate Spam's image at home, it might as well embrace its cult status. The company runs a Spam fan club, sells products ranging from Spam pajamas to books such as "The 100 Best Spam Jokes," and has released collector's-edition cans to mark last year's opening of the Broadway musical "Spamalot," which lampoons both the meat product and the Monty Python movies.
"When it comes to Spam," Craven said, "we get the joke."
posted by So Jin @ 11:11 PM
2 Comments:
I find this to be quite humorous and will probably also visit minnesota's spam museum since I live on the border of south dakota and minnesota. Actually, this article has also de-mystified the mystery behind why the unsolicitated emails were called spam and I will probably try to attend the currently "Spamlot" show in philly. Thank you so much for posting this entertaining article.
About the part where the GIs ate it, I heard that this is the origin of the absolutely amazing dish budae cchigae. Does anyone know if this is true? The first time I tried it at a special restaurant devoted to the dish, I thought it was amazing. When I learned it was Spam, I was actually really put off, not so much because of the taste, but because of the stigma of a nasty processed food that Spam brings to mind.
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