Spam adobo at Hacienda El Carmen

As I’ve mentioned, The Flâneur always travels with a can of Spam. Just in case I come across a chef who has never heard of it. Then I give them a can and ask if they’d mind using it in a meal (without telling them anything about it). The results are always remarkable (see my story about the Ritz-Carlton chef at Montego Bay, Jamaica who jerked a can of Spam for me).

Well, Saturday night I ended up at the Hacienda El Carmen, a Colonial hotel not far from Tequila that, back in the mid-1700s was a convent (for some reason I’ve spent many an evening sleeping in former convents; something for this former altar boy to ponder). It’s full of old stone arches and bell towers and dark, moody rooms with thick walls and artwork from old Mexican churches. My kind of place.

The Hacienda El Carmen, a former convent. Photos by David Lansing.

The Hacienda El Carmen, a former convent. Photos by David Lansing.

The chef at Hacienda El Carmen, Ambrosio Saavedra (how can you not love a chef named Ambrosio?), has been here forever and has a reputation for serving Jalisco specialties like conejo adobado, a wonderful rabbit stew braised in adobo sauce, and lomito de cerdo—sweet pork back in a pasilla chili sauce. So naturally I wondered what Ambrosio would think of my Spam.

When I gave it to him in his dark, dungeon-like kitchen, and asked him if maybe he couldn’t make a little something with it before dinner, he turned up his nose. And handed the can to his sous chef, Manuel Rodríguez.

“¿Qué es?

“It’s a type of meat,” I told him. “Muy popular entre algunas personas.”

Then he took it out of the can and dumped it out onto a plate the way one might a can of dog food. He looked at the Spam, looked up at me, looked back at the Spam and shook his head. Which is when I took my leave.

That evening, as the guests sat down at the long wooden table under the portales outside the kitchen, Manuel came out with not one, but two different appetizers made from the Spam. In the first, he’d taken a home-made plate-size tortilla and covered it with thinly-sliced Spam, dots of bacon, roasted pasilla chiles, and Oaxacan queso. Sort of an open-faced quesadilla—or maybe a Spamsadilla.

Manuel Rodriguez with his Mexicanized Spam dishes.

Manuel Rodriguez with his Mexicanized Spam dishes.

The other dish was sort of a variation on Chef Ambrosio’s conejo adobado. Manuel had replaced the rabbit with Spam, cooked it in the adobo sauce with some onion, and then wrapped it in an avocado leaf and steamed it. I thought it was amazing, but I wanted to know what some of the other guests thought, so we passed it around.

Alexandria, from Argentiana: “This is very different. I like the picante of the adobo with the sweetness of the meat. I love it. Maybe I make this at home.”

Kerry, from England: “It’s quite good, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted Spam prepared this uniquely.”

Alex, from New York: “Believe it or not, I’ve never tasted Spam before. But this is fabulous.”

An unnamed French guy: (Shakes his head when I ask him which is his favorite and, after making a little puffing noise, gives me a look of disgust as if I’d just asked him whether he’d prefer the Gallo red or the Gallo white.)

Well, you can’t please everyone.

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3 comments

  1. Sarah’s avatar

    Wow Spam prepared deliciously! I love your idea to give Spam to unsuspecting cooks and see what results. Who would have thought it could be so good?

  2. Sonia’s avatar

    LOL…leave it to you David. Carrying the great Spam can to unknowing chefs..LOL…I think that is awesome.

  3. Fred Harwood’s avatar

    And some meet the challenge! I’ve friends in Hawaii, where Spam is a staple, who need to follow this thread.

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