A HARTE APPETITE: SPAM AND DRIED BEEF: TAKE TIME ON VETERANS DAY TO ENJOY MESS HALL STAPLES

Today, at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, Americans pause to acknowledge the debt we owe to fellow citizens who have served in our Armed Forces, including the more than 40 million who have served in wartime and the more than 1 million who have given their lives in that service.

The time and date of this observance, originally called Armistice Day on the order of President Woodrow Wilson, commemorates the exact time and date of the signing of the truce that ended World War I.

That war was supposed to be the "war to end all wars," but, alas, by the time Congress got around to declaring Nov. 11 a federal holiday in 1938, World War II was only a year away. In 1954, following the signing of yet another truce, this time in Korea, Congress changed the name of the holiday to Veterans Day in honor of all who have served their country in uniform. They all deserve our gratitude.

If you ask veterans about their experience in the military you are not likely to hear much praise for the food they ate. In fact, mess hall cuisine (the term is probably an oxymoron) was frequently derided. Coffee was referred to as "battery acid," sausages were called "bags of mystery," and that military staple, chipped beef on toast, was labeled "SOS." (If you were in the service you know what that stands for. If you don't, I can't tell you in a family newspaper.)

Feeding the troops has always been a formidable challenge, going all the way back to the days of the American Revolution when the weekly ration included a pound of beef or salt fish or 3/4 pound of pork, a pound of bread or flour, a pint of milk or a quart of cider, and three pints of peas or beans.

The soldiers of the Civil War fared no better. The mainstay of their diet was something called hardtack, a square biscuit made of flour and water. Soldiers called them sheet iron crackers because they were so hard they had to be broken up with a rock or rifle butt, soaked in water, and fried in bacon grease to make them soft enough to eat. By comparison, the fast food served by the "Wolfmobile" of the Persian Gulf War seems like haute cuisine.

While nobody would pretend that military food ever really approaches haute cuisine, my Uncle Don, who was an Army first cook in Korea, tells me that the mess hall afforded opportunities for occasional culinary highs, like the time one evening when he scrounged up some lard and flour to make doughnuts. The men in his company were so delighted with the unexpected treat that they quickly gobbled up the hot doughnuts right out of the fryer leaving the six gallons of icing meant to glaze them unused.

Or there was the day, between frying eggs five dozen at a time and opening 50 cans of bacon with a hatchet, that he found time to prepare and decorate a cake to enter in a contest at a base 20 miles away. Though the cake did not survive the trip in Korea's 106 degree heat, he nonetheless received an award for the attempt.

Uncle Don, by the way, never cooked a day in his life before joining the Army. He still cooks today, though it took him a while to adjust to the home kitchen after he came back from the war. One of the first meals he fixed upon his return was a pot of chili for four which he inadvertently salted for 250!

But sporadic culinary achievements notwithstanding, most servicemen (and women), especially if they weren't officers, will probably find the Cookie character in the Beetle Bailey cartoon a little too close to the truth. After all, besides chipped beef on toast, the Armed Forces are still a major consumer of Spam.

During World War II, 100 million pounds of the stuff was shipped to Russian, European and American troops. (No wonder Nikita Khrushchev in his memoirs credited the canned luncheon meat with insuring the survival of the Russian army.) Indeed, Spam is inextricably linked with World War II because not only did the soldiers of that era eat a lot of it, due to rationing it became popular on the home front as well. The butt of a classic Monty Python sketch, it is not usually considered gourmet food, though Margaret Thatcher, former prime minister of Great Britain recalls it as a "wartime delicacy" served on Boxing Day.

But chipped beef and Spam have probably been unfairly maligned over the years. Despite their sometimes unsavory association with the military and their identification with wartime scarcity, they are ingredients which can have a flavorful role in contemporary dishes. In fact, Spam sales are increasingly strong and statistics show that in this country alone something like four cans of Spam are eaten every second.

Since it was first introduced in 1937, over 5 billion cans have been sold, making it one of the nation's most popular foods. In Korea, believe it or not, there's even a black market for Spam and the product, sold in fashionable gift boxes, is as highly prized as jewelry. Chipped or dried beef likewise still has a following and no less a gourmet than the late James Beard included a trio of recipes for it in his book, American Cookery. So why not give these two veteran foodstuffs another look? You might be surprised at how good they can taste in the right recipe.

Hot Chipped Beef Dip

A common use for chipped beef these days is in cocktail snacks and appetizers like this delicious dip. The recipe is from the Missouri Association of Hospital Auxiliaries Cookbook, a wonderful collection of recipes given to me by a former president of the association, Sue Meyer of Cape Girardeau.

Ingredients:

1 package (8 oz.) cream cheese

2 tablespoons milk

3/4 cup snipped dried beef

1 tablespoon minced onion

2 tablespoons chopped green pepper

1/4 teaspoon seasoned pepper

1/2 cup sour cream

1/4 cup sliced almonds

Directions:

Blend together cream cheese and milk. Mix in beef, onion, green pepper, seasoned pepper, sour cream, and almonds. Spoon into a 2 cup ungreased casserole and bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes. Garnish with additional almonds and serve with raw vegetables or crackers.

Spam Hot & Spicy Stir Fry

Hawaiians are the leading consumers of Spam worldwide, a tradition dating back to the time when canned food was a status symbol there. Thus, you'll find Spam Musubi, a sushi-style dish, on the menu at the Ala Moana Hotel and there's an annual Spam cookoff on the island of Maui. This recipe from Hormel, the creator of Spam, is a colorful Polynesian dish so good that your guests may not guess the secret ingredient.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup reduced-sodium teriyaki sauce

1/3 cup water

2-3 tablespoons Chinese hot oil

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1 can (12 oz.) Spam Lite, cubed

1 cup broccoli florets

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup pea pods

1 red bell pepper, cut in strips

1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 can (14 oz.) whole baby corn, drained and halved

1 jar (7 oz.) mushrooms, drained

6 cups hot cooked rice

Directions:

Combine teriyaki sauce, water, hot oil, and ginger and set aside. In wok or skillet stir fry Spam, broccoli, onion, pea pods, and red pepper in oil 2 minutes. Add sauce mixture and cook until bubbly. Add baby corn and mushrooms. Heat thoroughly. Serve over hot rice. Serves 6.

Tex-Mex Dried Beef Supreme

This recipe from the Knauss Dried Beef Company, the world's largest producer of naturally cured dried beef, is easy to make and would no doubt work equally well with Spam in place of the beef. It can be served cold or heated in the microwave for 15-20 seconds.

Ingredients:

4 ounces chopped dried beef

2 cups shredded lettuce

1 chopped tomato

4 ounces shredded cheddar cheese

3/4 cup sour cream

1/3 cup chopped onion

1/4 cup Italian salad dressing

1/4 cup chopped black olives

1/4 teaspoon Worchestershire sauce

6-8 soft tortilla shells

Directions:

Mix all ingredients except tortillas together in a large bowl and refrigerate until needed. When ready to serve, scoop mixture onto soft tortilla shells and fold.

Got a recipe you'd like to share with our readers? Are you looking for a recipe for something in particular? Send your recipes and requests to A Harte Appetite, c/o The Southeast Missourian, P.O. Box 699, Cape Girardeau, MO., 63702-0699 or by e-mail to tharte@semovm.semo.edu

~Tom Harte is a professor at Southeast Missouri State University and writes a food column every other week for the Southeast Missourian.