🥩🔥 Spam & Eggs: A Love Story the Cowards Refuse to Tell

Let me tell you something, you protein-starved, air-frying, kale-worshipping heathens.

There exists, in this modern wasteland of plant-based meat clones and soy-tinted “chick’n” blobs, one shining relic of true culinary genius — forged in iron cans and wartime necessity — and its name… is Spam.

Yes. Spam.

You know, that glorious block of mysterious pork-based divinity sealed in a can so sturdy it could survive a Viking siege. The foodstuff that has fueled armies, breakfast tables, and hangovers for nearly a century. The sacred, sizzling slab that, when paired with eggs, becomes the breakfast of gods, warriors, and people with actual taste buds.

But no. You won’t eat it, will you?

“Ohh, I don’t know what’s it it.”

“Ohh, it comes in a can.”

“Ohh, it’s not organic, Ulf.”

Shut up.

You’ll inhale a pink Starbucks unicorn latte made of corn syrup and E-numbers, but suddenly you’re too good for pork compressed into a perfect block of heaven? Grow up. Respect yourself.

🍳 Enter: The Classic Combo

Spam and eggs.

That’s it. That’s the sentence. That’s the tweet. That’s the cure for whatever sad sugary nonsense you’ve been eating every morning alongside your dose of media scare-mongering — apparently some people call that the news.

Thick-cut slices of Spam, fried until the edges are just shy of criminal — crisp, golden, sizzling in their own delicious, guilt-free pork fat. No seasoning needed. No sauce (unless HP) required. No imported truffle oil from Tuscany’s third cousin. Just heat and commitment.

Then comes the eggs.

Sunny side up. Or down. Or scrambled. Or just thrown in the pan with reckless abandon. Spam doesn’t judge you, and neither do I (unless you put ketchup on it, in which case we fight at dawn).

Together, the two create a sacred balance of fat, protein, and pure unapologetic flavour. Not “notes of umami” — I mean FLAVOUR, you hipster tapeworm.

🧬 Nutritional Breakdown (For the Three Nerds Still Reading)

Alright, here comes the bit where I pretend to care about macros, just to make you feel better about eating something delicious.

One serving of Spam (about 56g) gives you:

• 7g protein
• 15g fat
• 1g carbs
• And a beautiful sense of “screw it, this tastes amazing.”

Pair that with two eggs and boom: you’ve got yourself a solid 20+ grams of protein, ample fats for brain function (and by god, you people need it), zero sugar, zero guilt, and about 800% more satisfaction than whatever “plant-based crumble” you’re choking down.

And in any case, you know you’re not gonna just eat ‘one serving.’ That’s ridiculous. Demolish the fucking tin!

Now I know — sodium! Salt! The horror!

Let me remind you, you fragile kale twig, salt is not the enemy. Stagnation is. Sugar is. If you’re sweating like a real human, moving like a warrior, training like a beast, then salt is your friend. It’s electrolytes, not poison.

You want poison?

Try energy drinks and “low fat” yogurts. But you’re not ready for that conversation.

☠️ But Ulf, It’s Processed

So is your face cream, Megan.

And your shampoo. And that 1,200-step Korean skincare routine that’s cost you more than your rent.

Spam is deliciously processed. Spam is processed with love.

Spam is processed in a way that says, “Hey. Life’s short. Eat something that tastes like triumph.”

Let’s be honest. The only reason you’re scared of Spam is because you’ve been brainwashed. You think it’s beneath you. You think “real food” comes in biodegradable boxes with a leaf logo and a price tag that would make Odin weep.

But here’s the truth:

Spam is real. Spam is eternal. Spam doesn’t need your approval.

It existed before you were born and it will outlive you. Like cockroaches. Or Cher.

🛡 A Warrior’s Breakfast

Now this isn’t your typical Vocal story. This is a call to arms.

Because when the world collapses — and let’s face it, it’s already lurching — you’ll want Spam in your bunker. Not your lavender-infused chia crisps. Not your shelf-stable almond milk. Spam.

It’s a warrior’s food.

It doesn’t go bad. It doesn’t whimper. It doesn’t wilt in the fridge while you “forget to cook.”

Spam waits patiently. Unbothered. Armoured. Ready to serve.

🙄 Final Thoughts for the Delicate Ones

Look, if Spam and eggs terrifies you, it’s not because of the food.

It’s because deep down, you know it tastes better than everything you’ve been pretending to like.

It’s because somewhere inside your kale-wrapped soul, a voice is whispering:

“Fry the Spam. Eat the eggs. Be free.”

And that’s the voice of your ancestors. Honestly, I met them, and they told me to tell you.

So go ahead. Cut it thick. Fry it hard. Lay it down next to a couple of golden yolks, sprinkle with a hint of black pepper if you must, and shovel it down like the noble beast you were meant to be.

Eat Spam.

Feel joy.

Start the revolution.

Yours in sodium and glory,

Ulf Ragnarsson

High Priest of the Holy Tin

🪓 Like what you read?🪓

🪙 Then toss a coin into the fountain.

Make a wish —

for wilder words, sharper truths,

and more wild-folk with wild hair doing wild things.

Each offering stirs the water, feeds the fire,

and helps one such beast keep writing beneath the stars.