None of us were able to travel very far this year, but thankfully I hadn't made any travel plans in the first two months of 2020, so didn't have to make any disappointing cancellations on that front. I didn't venture any further than the Sussex coast for a few days' cycling in August, but that was very enjoyable in its own way. Last year, I made it as far as Lake Superior (not by bike, obviously), to visit a friend I hadn't seen for a decade, on the northernmost part of border between Minnesota and Wisconsin. If Covid had happened last year, I would have had to cancel that, which would have been downright depressing.
Despite being in Minnesota, I didn't make it to what must surely be one of that state's best loved attractions - the SPAM Museum in Austin. Yes, that's right - an entire museum devoted to SPAM. Austin is in the very south of the state, and as I quickly discovered, distances on maps of the US can be quite deceptive. It's a big old place (Lake Superior alone is a similar size to Austria), and hence just 'nipping down' to Austin and back for the day to look at some tins of SPAM really wasn't feasible. But having had such a brilliant time anyway, I wasn't fussed at all.
Despite being in Minnesota, I didn't make it to what must surely be one of that state's best loved attractions - the SPAM Museum in Austin. Yes, that's right - an entire museum devoted to SPAM. Austin is in the very south of the state, and as I quickly discovered, distances on maps of the US can be quite deceptive. It's a big old place (Lake Superior alone is a similar size to Austria), and hence just 'nipping down' to Austin and back for the day to look at some tins of SPAM really wasn't feasible. But having had such a brilliant time anyway, I wasn't fussed at all.
Covid-19 has obviously had a devastating effect on tourism, not least for visitor attractions like museums, which have been forced to close to keep people safe, and lost a huge amount of their income in the process. But many have responded positively to this problem by offering an incredible amount of online resources where possible. You can imagine my delight therefore when I discovered last week that the SPAM Museum would be delivering daily online tours while the building itself was closed. I would get to visit the museum after all! The tours run via Zoom from Monday to Friday at 2pm Central Time, which is 8pm here in London - a perfect evening's entertainment for those strange days between Christmas and New Year when you don't quite know what to do with yourself. I geekily donned my "I Love SPAM" socks (yes, really) poured myself a beer, and settled down for an adventure.
The tour was led by two of the museum's SPAMbassadors (best job title ever? I think so): Robin in the museum itself, walking round the exhibits with a video camera, and Steve in an undisclosed nearby location, commenting on what we were being shown. Over the course of an hour, Steve treated us to a vast array of facts, figures and stories about SPAM and Hormel's other brands. I won't repeat too many of them, as I know you'll all be wanting to take the tour yourselves, but will attempt to give you some of the highlights.
A nice section on the history of the company includes a mock-up of the original George A. Hormel and Company shop, set up in 1891 in Austin, MN. The Hormel Foods Corporation's headquarters and factory for the North American market remains there to this day.
George Hormel's son Jay eventually took over the business, but had to work his way up from the bottom. When he first turned up for work wearing a business suit, he was sent home to change, and made to work in the factory. Quite right too! The company produced a range of fresh, dried, preserved and cured meats, branching out into canning in the 1920s with "Hormel Flavor-Sealed Ham". SPAM came along in 1937, with Ken Daigneau, the brother of a company executive, winning $100 in a competition to name the new product. It is believed to be a portmanteau of "SPiced" and "hAM", but it seems to be either unknown, or a closely guarded secret, as to whether that is true or not. Classic SPAM contains just six ingredients: pork salt, water, potato starch (added to reduce the amount of jelly that forms in the can), sugar and sodium nitrite.
SPAM owes a great deal of its success and fame to the Second World War; the US army bought 100 million pounds worth (in weight) of the stuff, shipped out to its troops across the world and thereby also brought it to the attention of local people in places like Hawaii, Guam and the Philippines, which remain huge markets to this day. Hawaii consumes more SPAM than any other US state, and has its own variety of the product (Portuguese Sausage) which is only available to buy there, online, or at the museum. The Philippines is the largest export market and also has its own version with Tocino seasoning (a popular Filipino flavouring). Worldwide, 12.8 cans of SPAM are eaten every second - 3.5 of those in the US alone. The factory in Austin churns out 700 cans a minute during its production hours, processing around 19,000 hogs a day. That's a lot of pork. The eight billionth can of SPAM was sold in 2012.
The museum has a number of small sections devoted to SPAM's main markets around the world - its products are hugely popular in South Korea, again thanks to the US Military's influence, and gift baskets filled with cans are reportedly very popular during the country's Lunar New Year celebrations, selling for around $75. As well as the cans, Kimchi fried rice with SPAM is a popular ready-made meal in supermarkets.
A section on the UK market is designed to look like [a bit] like an Olde Worlde Public House, and deals with our country's troubled relationship with SPAM - free from rationing restrictions, it became a much-eaten but not perhaps universally loved staple during the war. Some of us Brits can't get enough of the stuff though - we were told about a man from Liverpool who loved it so much he changed his middle name to "I Love SPAM" - and persuaded the museum to let him have his wedding there. I'll just stick with my socks, I think.
Naturally, there is also a section devoted to the infamous Monty Python sketch, which not only brought about the term "spam" for large amounts of unsolicited email, but also the West End and Broadway musical SPAMalot, based on the Holy Grail film. Hormel was initially unhappy about both, but has since come round, realising it hasn't done the brand any harm at all. Some promotional tins for the musical - "SPAM with stinky French Garlic" - are among the only items on display in the museum that actually still have their contents inside; most of the others have been emptied, to prevent them from corroding and rusting over time.
Other highlights include a section where you can browse SPAM recipes on a touchscreen and email them to a friend (a better kind of SPAM email), a motorbike created by Hormel which runs entirely on bacon fat, and a measuring device which will tell you exactly how many SPAM cans tall you are. Big Ben in London is 1163 cans tall, in case you were wondering. But it would take 415,549,599 cans to circle the circumference of Earth.
There is also information about the Hormel Corporation's other products, and the charitable work they do around the world, donating around $7.2 million to food banks and disaster relief projects each year, and running projects to improve child nutrition in countries like Guatemala. And, like any good museum, there is a child play area, and also a gift shop, which remains open at the moment, if you happen to be passing and have a penchant for one of the less common SPAM varieties, or some branded merchandise.
There is also information about the Hormel Corporation's other products, and the charitable work they do around the world, donating around $7.2 million to food banks and disaster relief projects each year, and running projects to improve child nutrition in countries like Guatemala. And, like any good museum, there is a child play area, and also a gift shop, which remains open at the moment, if you happen to be passing and have a penchant for one of the less common SPAM varieties, or some branded merchandise.
I could probably go on...but as I say, you'll no doubt want to pay a visit yourself, whether online during these unprecedented times, or in person when it's possible to do so. I am just wondering if it is possible to apply for honorary overseas SPAMbassador status.
Museums aren't the only cultural institutions that have faced enormous challenges to their very existence this year, but haven risen to the challenge of surviving and carrying on as best they can. Theatre has been incredibly hard hit, as by its very nature it is all about bringing people together in the same place for a collective experience: the very thing that we have to avoid to halt the spread of this horrible virus. I have hugely missed going to the theatre this year, but the work of places like the National Theatre, making lots of their productions available to watch online, finding innovative new ways to try to recreate that collective experience of going to the theatre, and adapting their spaces so that performances can take place safely (when lockdown rules allow it) has been absolutely phenomenal.
And if it means that productions are being seen and enjoyed by more people than would be possible in the theatres themselves, and by those who might not otherwise go to the theatre at all, that can only be a positive thing. I have probably watched quite a few productions that I might not have bothered with or got round to seeing otherwise. In normal times, a pantomime certainly wouldn't be top of my list, but when the National Theatre announced it would be putting on Dick Whittington - only the second panto it has staged in its history - and streaming it online due to the current restrictions, I thought I might as well give it a go.
And I'm glad I did, as otherwise I would have missed the fun, the corny jokes, the innuendos, and the dramatic denouement when, after the villainous King Rat refuses to accept that he has not been voted in as the new Mayor of London (cue plenty of jokes at Trump's expense), an enormous tin of baked beans descends from above, opens up, and with dramatic music and accompanying rude sound effects, splatters its load of "rich farty sauce" over King Rat's head. Joyous.
All visitors had to wear facemasks, but I decided to go for a plain one on this occasion rather than my Campbell's Soup one - that would have been a geeky step too far, I feel.
I should add that reason for the beans was that the panto's dame, Sarah the Cook (played by a man, as tradition dictates), ran her own greasy spoon cafe - which is also why one of her spectacular dresses featured a Full English breakfast that would put Lady Gaga's Meat Dress to shame:
One of the few pieces of "live" culture I was able to experience this year was the Andy Warhol exhibition at Tate Modern. It had opened in early March, before we really knew how serious the situation was, closed during lockdown, but then was able to reopen over the summer with appropriate social distancing measures in place. So I was able to get there see, among other masterpieces, one of Warhol's original Campbell's Soup Can prints in the flesh, so to speak:
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