Creamed Possum in a Can w/ Gravy
A Hilarious Canned Possum Gag Gift
You have to see it to believe it - a can proudly labeled "Creamed Possum in Coon Gravy, Garnished with Sweet Potatoes." When I first laid eyes on this product online, I had to do a double take. Was this real? Could you actually buy canned possum meat on Amazon of all places? As someone with a redneck sense of humor, I knew instantly that I needed this in my life as the ultimate gag gift for family and friends.
I clicked the "Add to Cart" button without hesitation, eager to get my hands on this culinary conversation piece. When the can arrived a few days later, I couldn't stop laughing at the ridiculously authentic-looking label complete with an unappetizing stock photo of the "food" inside. I gave the can a shake, hearing the telltale rattle of some mystery contents sloshing around. Definitely not an actual food product, but darn if they didn't make it seem convincingly real.
Creamed Possum in a Can is my Heritage
Growing up in a small rural town in Alabama, eating opossum was just a way of life for my family. We didn't have much money, so you learned to get creative and eat whatever crawled across your path if you wanted to fill your belly. Possum was a household favorite that my granny would cook up anytime one of them varmints had the misfortune of crossing a county road (like the chicken) at night.
I remember granny would send me and my brother out to retrieve the fresh roadkill after one of her possum hunter curs picked up the scent. We'd toss that bad boy in a gunny sack and hustle the opossum back to the house before it got too ripe. Granny would skin and clean it up, then toss it in an old cast iron pot with some salted fatback, onions, and whatever wilted veggies she could scavenge from the garden patch out back.
After simmering all day on the woodstove, opossums transform into the most succulent, fall-off-the-bone meat, smothered in a rich, cinnamon gravy kissed with smoky fat and loveliness. We'd inhale platefuls of the stuff, masked possum draped over a bed of granny's buttermilk biscuits, sopping up every last drop of that gravy goodness. She'd serve up some stewed greens and candied sweet taters on the side for a complete taste of the South.
My Modern Adventures with Canned Possum
These days, I live in a big city far away from my rural roots. But every time I stumble across a certain gag gift product called "Creamed Possum in Coon Fat Gravy Garnished with Sweet Potatoes," it instantly transports me back to granny's kitchen, enveloping me in waves of warm nostalgia for those simple country pleasures.
The hilarious gag gift can is so well executed, so uncannily accurate in appearance and description, that I find myself salivating for a taste of that long-lost delicacy. The retro label depicts a Cheshire cat-grinning possum peering out, Swimming in a River of golden, peppery gravy, surrounded by oozy sweet potato nuggets. The cheeky text touts it as a "Southern Delight from the Deep South where you had to eat what you could find during tough times."
Reading the ingredient information list really sells it too: "Vine-Ripened Georgia Possum, Memphis Coon Fat, Swamp Cabbage, Okra, Sweet Vidalia Onions, Garnished with Cajun Sweet Potatoes and Ramps (Wild Leeks)." The whole thing seems so authentic, so fitting of that rural Southern charm. Except, well, the seller notes it's just an inedible gag gift for some harmless fun!
According to the reviews, that little bit of truth doesn't seem to ruin the fun for lots of other possum aficionados and good ol' country boys who grew up eating whatever;ossums crossed their paths. They delight in watching the confused, horrified expressions of more squeamish folks as they stumble upon the can's contents. People either erupt in gales of laughter over the comedic genius of the product, or recoil in revulsion that such a dish could ever exist.
For me though, opening that funny gift instantly floods my senses with memories - the deep, heavy aroma of granny's kitchen as that possum bubbled on the stovetop, the earthy sweetness of her sweet taters melding with the umami gravy, even the woodsy-musky odor of the trapped varmint itself as we brought it in from the hunt. Not pleasant scents by any means, but powerfully nostalgic for those raised on such pungent rural fare.
Canned Possum Fun Never Ends
While I'd probably pass on actually ingesting any "Creamed Possum" these days, getting one of these gag cans as these gifts always cracks me up and opens the door to reminisce about those simple country roots. I've been sorely tempted to bring one to work and stash it in the office kitchen just to watch my coworkers' reactions. Or to sneakily place it in the pantry when I host friends for dinner, only to reveal its gag gift nature once they've been properly grossed out by the horrifying "dish."
For a taste of Southern-fried, hickory-smoked humor and a chance to experience a nostalgic glimpse into an oft-forgotten slice of rural Americana foods, you just can't beat this creatively executed gag gift. It makes me shake my head and chuckle every time, channeling granny's spirit as she joked about her beloved "possum supper." So while I may not be brave enough to stomach the real thing anymore, I'll always make room on my shelf for this classic gag can of "Creamed Possum."
