Figgy Pudding Spam Review: I ate it so you don’t have to

Figgy Pudding Spam

New limited edition Figgy Pudding Spam (Nick O'Malley, MassLive)

Figgy Pudding Spam is an unnerving-looking meatcake that tastes like winter-spiced sausage filling. The worst part about it is that I cannot say that it’s bad. In fact, I’m dangerously close to saying that the contents of this holiday-themed pork sarcophagus are actually kind of fun and enjoyable.

Let’s be clear: This pillar of pernicious pink protein is problematic in its presentation. It looks like a naked eldritch horror that was beached on a kitchen counter after accidentally being summoned out of an ancient grimoire-cookbook written in actual Hell’s Kitchen by Demogorgon Ramsay.

To put it even worse: It’s like a cross between a fruitcake and meatloaf with some Fig Newton vibes.

But there is some good news: It tastes better when it’s nicely fried up. I think it cooks out a lot of the weird pork science textures.

Figgy Pudding Spam

By all appearances, this looks to be just normal Spam with some flavorings added to it. According to the company, there are “notes of cinnamon and nutmeg combined with fig and orange flavors.” Weirdly enough, many of those flavors come through -- and don’t cause your tongue to burst into flames.

The ingredients list doesn’t lend much insight into what ham-adjacent secrets are lurking in the marbled madness of congealed fats and demi-meats contained in the can. All I can tell you is that there are “Spices” as well as separate entries for “Natural Flavor” and “Natural Flavors.”

Bad news if you’re looking to buy some. After being announced on Nov. 15, Figgy Pudding Spam has already sold out from the company’s official vendors.

Figgy Pudding Spam

Figgy Pudding Spam, uncooked and pan-fried. (Nick O'Malley, MassLive)

What does it taste like?

The key thing here is that the appearance of Figgy Pudding Spam is pretty far divorced from the flavor you get. That means the flavor is better than you’d expect.

Spam is usually a firehose of salt and ham. In contrast, this doesn’t really taste like ham at all. But the visual is still rather troubling as you eat it.

The meat has a surprisingly tactful flavor that bounces around between savory, sweet and nutty. You can pick up flavors of cinnamon and nutmeg in the spices. You also get the date and fig notes, sort of what you’d get in a bread pudding. The weirdest part of all is that there is a noticeable aura of preserved orange, which is apparently present in some actual figgy pudding recipes. For me, it just reminds me of fruitcake. But I don’t hate it.

There are really no ham flavors. It’s more like a spiced filling for a pork dumpling or a breakfast sausage.

Make sure to cook it up, that way you get the nice crispy textures on the outside, with the bits of caramelization doing a good job of bringing out the spices. When properly cooked, it’s like a winter-spiced breakfast sausage without the pepper, heat or fennel. There were times when I even got some gingerbread flavors.

Technically, you can eat it raw. I don’t endorse it. But I can’t stop you either. I’m just some guy on the internet reviewing Spam. I clearly have no power.

So is it any good?

I might be going a little salt-blind as I eat this, cast adrift like Odysseus. So long from home have I been that the brine of the sea has become part of my being. My form turns to desiccation from the blinding white burn of this salted alchemy. I have been charmed by the mystic wiles of whatever sodium witchcraft produced this swine.

I think I might eat this again. Intentionally. Without anyone telling me to. It’s good enough to try a bite. The caloric and sodium content in this is bonkers.

The final word

I don’t know if I’ve ever been as mad at my mouth as I was when I ate this.

I went into this fully prepared to hate all over this silly holiday Spam. Then I ate it. But as I started thinking of dumb jokes to make about it, I realized that I sort of enjoyed eating it.

If I ever start taking myself seriously as a food reviewer, please print this article out and show it to me.

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“I ate it so you don’t have to” is a regular food column looking at off-beat eats, both good and bad. It runs every other Thursday-ish at noon-ish.

You can send any praise/food suggestions to nomalley@masslive.com. Please send all criticisms and complaints about the nutrition of Spam to mperri@masslive.com. You can check out the rest of the series here.

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