And now for something largely the same...despite the added bacon

Fans of classic comedy will no doubt be aware that the five remaining members of Monty Python recently reunited for a series of live shows at the O2, the first time the team had performed together onstage for 30 years. Given that they have a combined age of 361, it seems likely that this will be the last occasion too (unless they are still short of money to pay for their various legal bills and divorce settlements, in which case the Monty Python cash cow might get another milking yet).

I wasn't at all surprised to learn that the shows sold out in a matter of minutes, but while it would have been a great experience to have been there, I wasn't hugely disappointed, given the crazy prices of the tickets, and the fact that the O2 is a cavernous hole of a venue. When it was later decided that the final show would be broadcast into cinemas across the world though, I jumped at the opportunity and bought a ticket straight away, feeling pleased with myself that I had only paid £15 as opposed to many times that amount, and would most likely get a better view than those seeing it live. And then of course it was announced that it would be being shown on television anyway on Gold, putting an end to my smugness.

Anyway, it was an enjoyable evening's entertainment; not exactly groundbreaking stuff, but I don't think anyone had expectations in terms of new material - the show was always going to be very much a final revisit of the most famous sketches, a little like going to see an ageing rock band do their last 'greatest hits' concert.

"Spam, spam, spam, spam..."

I feel an occasion like this demands recognition in some way though, and given that one of Python's best-loved routines features a certain brand of tinned meat product, it seems only right therefore that I write a post about...SPAM. You couldn't really say that the sketch champions SPAM as such, but it has certainly done much to seal it within the public's consciousness - indeed, it is the sketch's suggestion that SPAM is ubiquitous yet unwanted that years later led to it giving its name to the emails that clog up inboxes across the globe.

Classic SPAM is made from spiced pork and ham (hence the name - apparently always written in capitals, according to the official website, which also provides a full history of the product), and while I've had this on many an occasion before, I had never tried any of the other varieties. So I couldn't resist buying a tin of SPAM 'with Real Bacon' when it was on offer at Sainsbury's some time ago - surely the addition of another kind of meat from the noble pig could only be an improvement on the standard variety?

Well to be honest, on trying a slice I can't detect any difference at all. Maybe comparing the two side-by-side I would have noticed an additional smoky flavour provided by the bacon. As it is, it just tastes like any other tinned pork product really.

But the real question is what to do with the SPAM. Sandwiches or fritters are all well and good, but I feel something a little more interesting or unusual is called for here. I turn to the SPAM website for inspiration, which has a wide range of suggestions for every meal of the day and more. The list of possibles almost reads like the classic Python sketch updated for the gastro-age: SPAM Benedict, SPAM fajitas, SPAM and Feta Pizza, Sweet and Sour SPAM, SPAM bruschetta... I am torn between the SPAMish Omelette (for its fabulous pun alone) and the Far East SPAM Balls (the ball form adding extra comic effect to this most amusing of processed meats), but as I went to see the show at the cinema, the SPAM Popcorn recipe seems the most appropriate. Plus it is unbelievably simple and only has two ingredients. SPAM included.

In fact you can hardly even call it a recipe - you just dice up a bit of SPAM into small cubes, then spread them out on a baking tray and place in a hot oven 'to dehydrate' for 10 minutes, give them a turn and then put them back in for another 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, take a packet of microwave popcorn, and, err...microwave it. Pop, pop, ping!

After its time in the oven, the SPAM is indeed dehydrated and crisp, having I suppose part-baked and part-fried in its own juices. Delicious. In fact it is spitting and spluttering in the hot fat as I take it out of the oven, with a couple of pieces even jumping out of the tray, almost like kernels of popcorn themselves.

I scoop the niblets of SPAM out onto some kitchen paper to soak up some of the fat - then wonder if I should have retained it for extra flavour. There's probably enough in the buttery popcorn itself though. Popcorn and SPAM are then layered up together - there is enough to fill a large bowl, but I rather like the idea of having a neat little portion in the SPAM tin itself.

Taste-wise, the 'SPAMlets' certainly pack a punch - salty, crunchy, meaty and even more moreish than the popcorn itself. The two go together very well - it makes you wonder why popcorn and pork are not paired together more often. I quite like the idea of going to the cinema and being asked if I want "salty, sweet or porky".

The only drawback is that due to their size, the SPAMlets tend to fall down between the larger pieces of popcorn and collect at the bottom of the tin. But then again, they are the best bit, so it's no terrible thing saving them until last. Perhaps it would have been an idea though to grind up the cubes when they came out of the oven, and using them more as a seasoning to coat as many of the popcorn pieces as possible. In fact I am quite tempted to do that anyway, regardless of popcorn, to give a salty, porky sprinkle to use on anything that took my fancy. I think it could get addictive quite quickly. While some of the patrons of the Green Midget Cafe in the Python sketch may not have wanted any SPAM with their meals, I am firmly with the spiced pork and ham-loving vikings on this one. All together now: "Lovely SPAM, wonderful SPAM..."