The Canned Life

In an attempt to glean as much worthwhile knowledge out of my increased fascination with bargain food, I decided to undertake a little experiment. What would life be like if I spent a week living primarily off of things that came out of cans? More importantly, what would I learn from the process? I'm always excited by the prospect of finding something remarkably convenient or tasty in unlikely places, so this seemed right up my alley. I can say that I learned a lot, but the experience isn't going to make me change my lifestyle. Then again, in a roundabout sort of way, maybe it is. Let's get to the cans. Category I: Soup Of all the things most people will gladly eat out of a can, it's soup. These days, there's a startling variety of canned soups, both in flavor and in format. The classic Campbell's soups are always good standbys and they're frequently the lowest priced items in the aisle. Modern Campbell's follows a standard formula: The contents of the can plus one can of water, mixed in a pot until hot. In some cases this produces decent results, like with vegetable soup. I've always found those "no water necessary" prepared soups to be too salty for simple fare like veggie or chicken noodle. Among the prepared soups I much prefer the thicker, heartier flavors of a cook corn chowder. I still stay away from the clam chowders, though. A good can of either styles can make for a decent meal, but I can't imagine living off of it for very long. Category II: Meats Let it be known that there is no phrase in the English language more likely to send shudders down a foodie's spine like "canned meat". The very concept is unpleasant. I was hoping to find some kind of redeeming quality in the stuff I've been passing by with an upturned nose for years. No, I didn't pick up a can of SPAM. That stuff has such a cultural bias on it that I can't imagine eating it for any other purpose than irony or a lost bet. So, what tin-housed meats did I eat? Let's do a breakdown.

• Underwood Deviled Ham

Far and away my least favorite of the bunch. This stuff is just vile. It comes in a dry, pinkish loaf that basically just tastes like salt given form as overcooked oatmeal. It's really impossible to do anything to this stuff to make it palatable. No amount of mayonaise, pepper, or vegetables can hope to mitigate canned ham's awfulness.

• Swanson Chunked Chicken

The actual name isn't "chunked chicken" but that's what it really is, so that's what I'm calling it. This stuff isn't exactly bad, but it isn't exactly good, either. This chicken follows a certain principle of canned foods: If it comes from a can and doesn't have much flavor on its own, it will taste like tuna fish. That's basically all there is to say about it. Which brings us to...

• Chicken of the Sea Tuna

The irony of the name isn't lost on me. Practically everyone grew up with the flavor of canned tuna, so maybe it's just a psychological thing that makes it taste alright. It occurs to me that all these years, we haven't been tasting tuna, we've been tasting the can. After my experiment here, I've promised myself to find someone who can teach me the ins and outs of sushi eating so I can experience how tuna is actually supposed to taste. Eating only the canned stuff is like eating nothing but fast-food burgers and then claiming to know what steak tastes like. Conclusions: Sure, I tried some other stuff. I had canned tomato sauces and canned vegetables, canned potato chips, even canned cookies. While it's true that canned goods are marginally less expensive than fresh ingredients, there are two things to consider. First, the economic concern is only true in small batches. Fresh items bought in larger quantities end up being cheaper than loads of canned goods. All you really need to know is how to properly freeze and otherwise store the stuff you don't use right away. The other thing to consider is the overall satisfaction of the food. Canned stuff is pretty lifeless and it's never satisfying. Even if you're saving money in the short run, you'll still be hungry later.