I remember as a little boy going grocery shopping with my late Mother. Back then she went to Farmer Jacks. Mr. Jack placed many interesting items at eye-level for someone my age to look at and ask if we could get it. The usual answer was ‘no’. I remember a few times she said ‘yes’ to Nestle-strawberry Quik and some cereals there were being flogged on Saturday morning. For the ‘yes’ items I suppose she was pleased I was ‘trying new things’ but I think she secretly hoped if I got them once I wouldn’t like them and lose interest. She was correct; these were usually a disappointment.*

I remember most were the products that looked intriguing but she wouldn’t buy, even when I saw it again and kept asking for it, like Hillbilly Bread. I tried a few approaches (bargaining and whining) but to no avail; she was inveterate against such purchases. I remember vividly Underwood deviled ham spread. I was fascinated by the red devil on the label. He resembled “Hot Stuff” which was a comic I was reading at the time. I forget the reason(s) why she would not buy it. In time I stopped asking either I connected the dots it wasn’t going to happen or I lost interest. All my life I’ve seen it in the grocery and I wondered what it was like. The same red devil kept calling to me to try it. A few weeks ago I saw him again among the tinned meats. I am sixty-two and I thought: I am going to try it. I put a tin into my cart while mother’s ghost raised her nose in that way she did when encountering something disgusting.

Someone questioned the purchase. By now he is used to me bringing home items not on the official grocery list. I explained the tale. He said I was welcome to have it all which is an indirect speech act to say he’s sooner eat rats at Tewkesbury than mystery meats. I forgot about it for awhile but remembered it yesterday so I got it down and opened it.

I wondered if Beelzebub (or someone like him) would come roaring out and say at last I got you! and drag me down to that level of hell where they serve lukewarm tea made from teabags and Anita Bryant records play nonstop. What I saw inside was a pink humongous wheel of meat the type one sees when opening a tin of very expensive pate de foi gras or Little Sheba cat food sold at a clearance sale. It had a slight ‘meat’ smell but it was not spicy. Apparently ‘deviled’ isn’t taken seriously or Lucifer doesn’t live in Arizona where ‘hot’ is taken seriously. It is spreadable rather than in chunks, again looking like cat food or imperial tidbit pate. Normally this sort of thing makes Harper come a-running to see if there is any for her but she did not do so. I toasted a bagel and spread some on and gave it a taste.

After sixty years I don’t know what I imagined it would taste like. It had a slightly salty sweet ground ham taste without any ‘spice’ at all. It wasn’t complex nor unpleasant. It was more or less ground ham or SPAM – easily created at home in a meat grinder and with proper spices including a good amount of chiles. It was a bit of a disappointment. Afterwards I read the ingredient label, something I never bother doing in my youth. The small tin has ‘two servings’ (ha!) which when eaten together more or less wraps up the day’s allowance for sodium and fat. I am curious to go on line to learn its history and are there recipes using such.

I am glad I did this although I don’t think I will buy any more. I hear the devil laughing at me for falling for a false hope. All the same I have the quiet satisfaction of empowerment that comes from getting something you were once denied by mother.

I wonder if they still make Hillbilly Bread or Quisp cereal.

Anyone else ever try this delicacy?

* I don’t remember any she obliged me to consume ‘you wanted it you are going to eat it”. Mommie Dearest she was not.