Ah Bully Beef…
If there was ever a food product to invoke fond memories of youth and brotherhood in ex serviceman, it can only ever be one thing – Bully Beef.
At the time, like me, you grew heartily sick of the sight, smell and taste of it. Back then that was the norm among servicemen. You were expected to grizzle about the food.
But years later when you’re searching the cupboard for something to make a sandwich for a tasty snack, it’s extremely hard to bypass that can of Bully tucked away at the back of the bulging cupboard.
To give it its correct name – Corned Beef, Bully is an acquired taste. But when you’ve experienced it in your early years, you’re hooked for life.
No matter where you are in the world and despite the brand name it is sold under, you will find its familiar slightly conical shaped tin on any supermarket shelf.
These days a lot of the manufacturers present this nectar in a tin with pull tags.
But personally I still prefer the old style key type. Just grab that key, insert the exposed tab into its middle, wind until the bottom of the can comes away. Next give the can a vigorous shake up and down and – plop, the contents flop onto the plate of your choice.
Until the day I die there will only ever be one type of processed meat for me – good old jelly covered, fat soaked, artery clogging, heart attack inducing, Bully Beef.
I want the taste of a Bully Beef, lettuce, mushroom and mustard sandwich to be on the taste receptors of my tongue when I depart this mortal coil. Or maybe a Vegemite sandwich – but that is another story.
I tried Spam once. Yuk, foul tasting insipid civilian tucker – bleh!