Old fashioned recipes harken back to a time when life was simpler. When a person’s handshake was more binding than a 300 page contract, a shared dance at a village picnic held far more sway than liking someone on Facebook, and there was a far, far greater chance that a footman would get mauled by an angry, chili-thirsty Spam-beast. .
Not surprisingly, in bygone days of yesteryear Spam was the preeminent cultural force. On the Western frontier Spam were so veritably populous that they blackened the sky, as they groaned and pulsated in fearfully great numbers. Truly amazing beasts, Spam, despite a woeful inability to fly, completely decimated the Passenger Pigeon population. In spite of their inability to navigate in daylight (or darkness), Spam all but annihilated the American Bison population. Frustrated by the senseless massacre, the pioneers took up arms. When that failed, they meekly returned to their crappy log cabins and obsessingly schemed for a way to rid the planet of the vile Spam pestilence. Short of taking any appreciable action, they developed a bloodcurdling battle cry-“Kick ‘em in the biscuits.”
Today Spam is slightly less fearsome, as it has been (mostly) subdued by serial canning. Nonetheless, I heed the ancient call to arms. As I am not able to discriminate among the various Spam body parts (at least no so far as to identify their “biscuits”), I’ll just dice the Spam fine and “make them into biscuits”.
2 C flour
1 T baking powder
½ t salt
1 T chili powder
1/3 t paprika
1/3 t coriander
2 T pork fat (we used leftover fat from frying spicy pork sausage, you could use lard or butter here).
3 T butter
½ C tiny cheese cubes (a mixture of 4 varieties)
½ C finely diced hot and spicy Spam (you could use ham, if that trips your trigger.)
1 C milk
- In a large bowl, stir flour, baking powder, salt, chili powder, paprika, and coriander.
- Cut in pork fat and butter.
- Stir in cheese and Spam.
- Stir in milk.
- Drop by tablespoon onto a baking sheet and bake at 425F for 20 minutes.
If you love yourself (who doesn’t?), give yourself a little hug- a chili cheesy, Spam-y, 10,000 calorie hug. In truth, the biscuits may not each contain a full 10,000 calories (though they taste it). It is not like I’m an official nutritionist- though I do hold an honorary Dietitian Degree from Hormel University.
The biscuits were flaky and spicy. The spiciness, I surmise, is owed to the addition of the spicy sausage pork fat. Mrs. Chili365 and The Pirate were fairly fond of these little breakfast goodies. I really enjoyed them- to the extent that I’ve already eaten 9 of them. Mrs. Chili365, always conscious of my health, wants me to stop eating them and, thus, has threatened my biscuits.
(Hey, like voting for stuff?- Check out my chili at the Ranting Chef’s Diced! Chili Contest and cast you vote.)