A can of corned beef was a staple food in our house when I was growing up. Used in a variety of ways, the can was always on hand for a meal. The amazing thing about the can is that it comes with a key and is somewhat tricky to open. Voodoo helps. This fact is apparent to anyone who has broken the sliver of aluminum that the key unlocks. The procedure is to pry the key from the bottom of the can and find the slot in the key. Slip the slot into the sliver of aluminum and roll the sliver around the can, opening the can as you do. Ingenuous if it works, disaster, if it breaks. The can of corned beef was not meant to open with a regular can opener, hindered by the rounded corners of the can. Good luck getting the can open but if you are fortunate to reach this goal, there are amazing things to do with the meat inside.
The best sandwich I ever ate came from one such can and was made by my daddy. Two facts may be noted about the sandwich, it was fantastic and it was the only sandwich he ever made. I was attending the University and my daddy was on his annual contract-negotiating strike from the rubber plant. He had three chores to do each day: pick me up from class, feed me and take me to work. Since he had another agenda for his days of strike-induced leisure, my lunch often consisted of an egg salad sandwich bought from the vending machine at the local pool hall. But for some reason, one day he made me a corned beef sandwich. Common meal at our house but what made it different was he added slices of boil egg to the sandwich. I don’t know where the boiled egg came from but I can only surmise that he could boil an egg, peel it and slice it. Amazing!!! He also put mayonnaise on one slice of bread and mustard on the other, added the corned beef and egg and served me the sandwich. I almost choked at the idea of eating the combination but eat it I did. And it was truly the best sandwich that I have ever eaten because of the circumstance in which it was made and it was delicious.
When you cannot top perfection, you don’t duplicate. Although I often make corned beef sandwiches, I have never had that sandwich combo again. To make a corned beef sandwich, I must rid the meat of the globules of jelly-like stuff that slides out of the can with the meat. Heating the meat does just that. Carefully slice the meat (it is somewhat crumbly) to the desired thickness and heat in a skillet, turning over once or twice or simply microwave it for 20 seconds. Add the meat to bread – white bread works but the best ones are made with Jewish rye bread – add lots of mayo and mustard and served with dill pickles and Golden Flake Potato Chips.
When I was attending night school in Birmingham, I often made the guys corned beef and hash, primarily because I could make it during my lunch hour for their supper. Cast iron skillet again and start with a gravy made with a little oil and flour. Add a can of corned beef. Par boil a few potatoes until fork tender and add potatoes to corned beef mixture. Add some diced onions and simmer for a while until gravy thickens. Add parsley flakes. That’s a meal completed with a few veggies and bread.
I don’t care for cooked cabbage but Mama often made corned beef and cabbage by adding a can of corned beef to a pot of boiling cabbage. The smell was atrocious, not as foul as cooking collards, but I remember our family loved both of these meals, sans me. Always served with cornbread.
In Memphis years ago, we had breakfast in Duck’s Restaurant at the Peabody Hotel and I have often used their concept for a breakfast meal. I use a can of corned beef hash and brown it in a skillet turning or flipping it over several times until crusty. Serve this with over-easy fried eggs and biscuits. It works well and lacks only the ambience parading ducks provide.
If Aesop had written a fable about a can of corned beef, he would have a moral for the can. The moral of this story: Always have one on hand. Like Spam it never goes out of date.
Crimsoncoco's Awesome Blog 