Dreams are what keep us going in life. I had a dream that was utterly crushed today. Destroyed, annihilated. My dream was purchasing a jug of delicious McRib sauce and using it in amazing BBQ dishes for a looooong time.
Ever since I was a kid, when the McRib first came out, I have loved that sauce. Tangy barbeque perfection, distilled in a rich crimson sauce on a simulated rib patty. I had dreams. McRib sauce on chicken. McRib sauce mixed with mayo for French fries.
McRib sauce in my damned breakfast cereal. It was going to be glorious. But, no. Not so much.
I knew it would sell out fast, so I was diligent. I set a calendar reminder that duly notified me one hour prior to the sale. Then, I set an alarm for 0957 US EST this morning, the dark day of November 25th. When the alarm went off, I stationed myself by the computer and watched as the launch page, with a helpful timer, ticked down.
The microsecond that the button changed from “unavailable” to “buy now,” I jammed that sucker so hard my mouse squealed in protest. A window popped up telling me that my order had been filed, “two-minute wait.”
After a minute, I saw that my supposed two minutes would stretch into eternity, because some jackals with sniper software had beaten me decisively. SOLD OUT, the page said. Sold. F’n. Out.
You bastards, I thought.
How did I think, for even a second, that this would be in any way fair, or that McDonalds would have enough on hand to sustain a five-second supply?
How naive, and this will soon be the standard for many things dictated by our AI and Silicone Valley, rugged individualist overlords.
Crushed, I finished the dishes, mocked by my McRib sauce phantasms. Then, on a hunch, I decided to check eBay.
Observe.
This was posted FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER THE SALE ENDED. Fifteen bloody minutes.
I’d guess that this seller has a real future in Washington, working for the Department of Human Services.
Unreal. Just shitty and unreal, but hardly a surprise in Our Year of the Lord 2024.
Morning, everyone. First, I’d like to apologize for my hiatus here. It’s been far too long since I posted; actually, my longest break on this site since ’17, when I started this thing. My reason(s)? Some life events, current events, and a creeping sense of disaster. It has messed with me, to be sure.
There are a number of things I could write about, among which is my long-delayed violin series, which just needs to be posted. Also, I could write about my books, or a lack of effort on that front (Did I mention the whole creeping paralysis thing? I think I did). I could discuss interesting electrical experiments (a side-growth on a really cool solar generator I’ve been messing with), or continuing work on the Roxor. There’s a lot to choose from, and all of them are fun and in-line with what I do here.
However, I’d like to talk about MREs, or, “Meals, Ready-to-Eat.” Why? Because I found a few old ones laying around in my basement, and I was curious if they were still edible. Note: Don’t try this at home. Always follow FDA guidelines in regard to stored food and its shelf-life. Don’t listen or take as advice the ravings of a retired and half-crazed ex-GI. This information is for entertainment only.Discard any food you regard as suspectand that has exceeded its sell-by date.
OK, that had to be said. Live it. The following words are written just so you can laugh at me and wonder why I did something so dumb. Once again, don’t try this at home. Or, worse yet, build old MREs into your disaster planning.
Here goes.
I’ve always heard anecdotal information about how long GI rations will last. As a kid, I heard from a number of RVN veterans how they were fed rations from WW2, complete with stale Chesterfield cigarettes. I know an elderly Dutch fellow who had a can of GI fruitcake dropped in his yard at the close of WW2, and he opened it and ate it on the 70th anniversary of Liberation Day in the Netherlands. He said it looked fine, and tasted as well as one could expect from vintage GI fruitcake.
Overseas I can’t say that our rations were old, but they were definitely improperly stored, and I doubt that they were properly rotated for age. I recall a stifling conex box heaped with MREs and T-rations, scorpions skittering about, covered in dust. I had no idea when those rations were thrown in there, but I can say for certain that the inside of that metal shipping container reached temperatures above 120F/49C. I’m also pretty certain that some boxes had been there for multiple years. This was far from ideal storage. I ate that crap anyway, and I didn’t get sick. I got sick from kebab roasted over sheep-shit fires, but not from that.
I have eaten so many MREs over the years, it’s not funny. Over the course of my career, I watched as the ration generations changed, as well as the appearance and menus. Modern, 2024 MREs are a far cry from the old dark-brown bag garbage of my youth. Later generations were the early OIF versions, to late war, to present. In the early nineties we had the dreaded dehydrated beef patty. Then, we “improved” to Omelet, Ham and Cheese. We received the frankly delightful hamburger with BBQ sauce, jalapeño cheese packets, and beef jerky. These days? All kinds of goodies. A fav is the GI milkshake, but I digress.
Suffice to say that I know what an MRE should look and taste like. I’ve had thousands. I do know a fellow who got sick from one; botulism. It happened because he ate a spoiled packet at a patrol base in the pitch black. He was in a hurry, was laying prone, and it was raining. Not ideal circumstances to inspect food packets, btw. I guess he slit the thing open and squeezed the rancid contents in his mouth; he spat it out immediately, but the damage was done. He had to be medevac’d out of there and was very ill for quite a while.
So, I’m pretty careful about this stuff. If a packet leaks, is damaged, or is puffy like a pillow, you don’t want it anywhere around your mouth.
Lately, I’ve been making an attempt to clean up my basement. The storage space is home to layers of old Army junk, and I’m trying to organize it. I’ve been doing this in lieu of way more important stuff like writing my new book because right now, frankly, I can’t handle it. This stupid election and negative life events have really put the zap on my concentration; I can’t imagine I’ll write until this dumb thing is over. Or, at least until the possible choas is charted out. There are way too many assholes in this world, and right now they all seem to have megaphones, so I’ve temporarily checked out. Thus, I clean and organize my basement. In the process, I came across some vintage MREs, and I have several cases of new Humanitarian Daily Rations, one of which I wanted to try in comparison to USGI swill. It’s been a very long while since I ate one, and I wanted to see how they stack up and write-up a comparison.
After I reveal the edibility/grossness of the vintage GI MREs, I’ll talk a little about the new HDRs.
Let’s get into it. I selected some very old USGI MREs, probably 2007/2008 vintage. Once again, I’ve eaten mountains of these, and I can spot bad stuff. When I slit these two packs open, I carefully inspected the contents. Everything seemed to be as good as the day they left the factory; there were no puffy or leaking packets. Everything that I opened, I smelled and looked at the contents carefully. If it smells or looks gross, don’t taste it, period. Not even a little bit.
This is what I found with two sixteen or seventeen year old MREs.
The first one I opened was just for reference; I didn’t eat it. However, several times I unthinkingly licked my fingers when food got onto my hands; don’t repeat my mistake! If our old friend botulinum was hanging out in one of those packets, this would have been enough to put me in the hospital. Let’s start with the throw-away/inspection example first.
This is what 17 year old GI peanut butter looks like. I made sure I kneaded the package; it looked and smelled fine. I didn’t knead the strawberry jelly packet, which was a mistake. The solids had separated over the years and it looked like hell, frankly. The sticky stuff got on my fingers. This was where I licked. It tasted like…strawberry jelly.
The next thing I cracked open was the beverage powder. Lemon-lime, like usual. The raspberry is much better, but infrequently encountered. I wonder if this MRE was heated up at some point in the past, note the clumping of the powder. However, this dissolved just fine in water, so it’s a matter of appearance. Note: they put drink powders in MREs for a reason. Number one is to mask the taste of crappy water. Number two is to give the soldier vitamin C. Always use the drink powder! But don’t pour it into a canteen. Use a cup. Canteens are for water only. This is a field hygiene basic tenet.
The next item I opened was GI bread. It looked, smelled, and felt as if it had been baked yesterday. Really remarkable, and I wonder what sick, dark magic goes into the manufacture of this stuff. Even though I didn’t intend to eat this MRE, I wouldn’t hesitate to eat this.
Then, I looked at the pound cake. It was as I remembered them, and it looked kind of delicious. No defects noted. Finally, it was time to have a look at the entrees, whose packets were nice and flat, undamaged. How would seventeen year old Mexican Rice and Vegetable Lasagna look and smell? I found out.
Turns out, they were both fine. This is where I caught myself licking my fingers again, a serious mistake. If this stuff had the crud, I was toast. However, I’m not dead/hospitalized, so it was fine. The Mexican Rice was clumpy, stinky, and unattractive, but so is a packet made yesterday. This is NOT one of my favorite entrees; spoiler, both MREs I tested had lousy entrees. But I digress. I’m speaking to this being edible, and it was. The Vegetable Lasagna was also fine, if gross as-new.
BTW, MRE entrees have a peculiar smell; it gets better when you heat them. This is normal but off-putting to someone unfamiliar with all things MRE. I attempted to use the MRE heater, but in both MREs they were as dead as stone. I added water as you should and nothing happened. I waited a while, too.
Weird how the purely chemical, dry heaters last for much less time than the food. Seriously, Uncle Sam, WTF?
Convinced that these ancient mariners were marginally edible, I decided to eat the other one the next day for lunch. I guess it’s a spoiler that I’m typing this, so you know in advance it must have been OK. Kind of tough to post from an ICU. Well, I lived and experienced no signs of gastrointestinal distress. The first thing I ate was the peanut butter and jelly combo on the bread, and this time I made darn sure to knead the packets. Here’s what the peanut butter alone, spread over the Immortal Bread, looked like.
As you can see, there is nothing freaky here. The peanut butter looks like I just grabbed a jar of Skippy from the pantry, and spread it on the GI near-bread. I assure you this is 17 years old. Then, I made a PB&J.
It really helps if you knead the jelly packet. While this will never make the cover of a foodie mag, it worked. I ate it, and it tasted like every darn GI PB&J I’ve ever had, albeit a lot older (Probably. You never know in the Army). BTW, I drank the raspberry drink packet later, it was fine. Also ancient.
It was time for the entrees, Penne Pasta in Tomato Sauce and the dreaded Potato Soup, Bacon Flavored. I scooped it from the undamaged packets, looked at it, smelled it, and chucked it in the microwave for a minute.
Yes, this looks like hell. It tasted like crap, too. However, regretfully, this is the norm for the terrible potato soup. The pasta was marginally OK, so I ate all of it. Like usual, I only managed to choke down half the potato soup. Lemme tell you, when they pass out the MREs, and you’re the loser of the MRE lottery, no one will trade you for the potato soup; or, if your luck is particularly bad, for the Ham Omelet.
This is the definition of starvation rations. You’ll eat all of it if you’re ravenously hungry. I wasn’t, so I ate just enough to see if I’d die. I didn’t. After the Potato Soup ordeal, I saved a snack, the Brownie with Chocolate Chips.
This looks terrible, but it’s not. Something I’ve noticed in MREs over the years is that they compensate you if the entrees are gross. In this case, this MRE came with a delicious brownie. Yes, it was awesome. Even after seventeen years.
In conclusion to the old MRE writeup, I guess just the fact that I’m sitting here typing tells you what you need to know. While it’s not preferrable to eat MREs that are older than kids who can vote, I guess it can be done, judiciously. But only me. You shouldn’t do it, nor do I advise you to.
After that hell, I moved on the the meals that Uncle Sam provides to refugees. How did they stack up to USGI? What were the differences? How do they taste?
Let’s start. First, I’ll state the obvious. The HDR I tested was from 2022, so I had no fear factor eating it. Second, HDRs are (much) less expensive than USGI MREs. Third, there is more stuff in an HDR than an MRE! The MRE is designed to be issued three times a day (although in practice that’s waaaaaay too much, but those were the planning factors we had to use for heavy labor). The HDR is not. The HDR, the Humanitarian Daily Ration, is just that. It’s a once-a-day minimum for some poor bastard who can’t get any other food. This person is dead lucky to get one of these, and it can be stretched over multiple days at need. Finally, the HDR on the civvie market is 35/case of ten, 3.50 each, USD. The USGI MRE is 135/case of twelve, 11.25 each, USD.
I was shocked when I looked up the cost this morning. I know that HDRs have gone up since Hurricane Helene, and for good reason. Basic supply and demand. However, they are only up about 5$/case, which isn’t insane. USGI MREs? While they’ve always been more expensive than HDRs, now they are really expensive! For less food, you pay more than three times more for USGI. For someone doing disaster prep, unless you are very well-heeled, this doesn’t make sense to me.
I can tell you the difference, in layman’s terms. The USGI has a slightly better grade book of matches. The MRE has a self heater (see above for why this isn’t worth it). The USGI comes with name-brand junk food. The MRE has entrees with meat; they are culturally incompatible with a few major world religions. The USGI has milkshakes (a major advantage, I admit).
Is the above worth paying 11.25 a meal? I say no. So, let’s talk about my taste test with the new-ish HDR.
This is the HDR. Like the MRE, it comes in a tough, waterproof thick plastic outer shell.
The contents are double-sealed in this compact plastic wrap. BTW, if you want to use these immediately and desire a more compact package, like in a ruck, strip the outer shell and carry them like this. What, pray tell, is inside this packet? It’s been so many years since I had one, I was curious. I have a lot more experience with MREs than HDRs. See below.
As you can see, this can be split into breakfast, hot lunch, hot dinner. The packets, if you want to heat them up, can be chucked into hot water to heat. Or, you can do like me and scoop out the contents and microwave. I’d imagine you could heat on a skillet, too. The toiletries packet isn’t as awesome as USGI, but it’s pretty good. There’s salt and black pepper, red pepper flakes, napkins and a moist towelette. Pro tip: save the napkins and moist towelette for your nether regions in the field. There is also a book of matches. The HDR is a comprehensive package.
For your benefit, I’ll give you a notional day with just this packet alone, Menu Number Three. There are four menus randomly mixed per case.
Breakfast: Crackers, with peanut butter and strawberry jelly. If not enough, get a boost with the toaster pastry (a pop-tart), which can be heated in a pan. I am well familiar with MRE crackers, these are identical. So is the PB&J, and the pop-tart. Note that the packets aren’t USGI brown. So what? But hey, if you want to spend three times as much for brown packets and less food…go ahead.
Lunch: Rice with Vegetables, throw in some pepper if you want some spice, and have a sweet treat with the Oatmeal Cookie.
Dinner: Vegetable Barley Stew, served warm. Add the Shortbread Cookie for dessert.
You’re not going to get fat, but you won’t die, either. If you really must have tabasco sauce or M&Ms, spend three times as much. I won’t stop you.
I ate this stuff without qualm. How was it? A first impression upon opening the entree bags was that for whatever reason the entrees didn’t have that USGI reek. Could this be because of Halal prep methods? Different, meat-free ingredients? I don’t know, and I don’t care, I guess. Just an impression. I scooped the rice and barley stew onto a plate and zapped it for a minute in the trusty microwave. How did it look? How did it taste?
Observe.
One hell of a lot better than USGI, frankly. Don’t say “But you ate antique MREs.” I did. However, they were NO different in taste and texture from brand-new USGI! This HDR food was superior. Yes, there was no meat. However, you don’t really need meat for nutrition, your protein requirements will be met with the total HDR. If you must have meat, I guess spend the big bucks. Your call.
The HDR entrees actually smelled good cold, and they tasted good, too. The rice and veggie combo was WAY better than “Mexican Rice.” It didn’t need the provided salt, and I thought it had just the right hint of spice. The barely stew was good, too. It was filling and kind of delicious. I should have tossed on some of the provided red pepper to try it out, but I’m sure it’s fine if you want some nip. And the oatmeal cookie? It was great, and added to the substance of the meal. There was no way I could eat the entire HDR in one sitting!
Long story short, I rate the HDR as superior to USGI. This considers overall palatability, cost, and calorie count. One thing I didn’t see in the HDR, which might have been just this one, was the lack of drink mix. However, this isn’t a big deal, and you definitely aren’t missing anything with the lack of a heater. Both ration types seem to age well if properly stored, but the HDR wins the contest hands-down.
Look. Maybe I’ve had bad luck at times, some terrible experiences. Without getting too deep into the weeds, life has taught me that all the good things of your existence can be taken from you in a millisecond. People routinely float through their day-to-day blithely assuming that as life has been, so will it always be.
Bullshit, I say.
Recent events, namely Hurricane Helene, prompted me to write this article. As I understand, much of the American South has been devastated by the effects of this storm, with an untold number of people cut off from supplies and help due to washed away and debris-choked roads. People cannot access safe drinking water, food, or medical care. In addition, internet and cell communications are down for many, compounding the disaster.
To those who can read this, I’d like to suggest small measures that you can do NOW, to help you mitigate disasters that may happen to you.
It doesn’t take much effort or money. Seriously. There are no hidden passwords, no arcane knowledge, and no weird doomsday-preppers stuff. Also, what I suggest doesn’t take up a ton of space in your house or garage. I will only suggest supplies that I have used and possess. None of it costs much, and all of it is perfectly legal and dead necessary when the chips are down.
Rest assured, at some point, the chips will be down. Count on it.
Your primary needs in a disaster are water, shelter, and food. I’d add medical care, communications, and a means of defense as secondary needs, albeit vital.
Let’s start.
The thing at the top of this list is water. Without drinking water, you are out of luck. Period. You need safe water to survive. Most natural sources of water are not safe. You will get sick if you drink it. Sick as in terrible diarrhea. I’ve been there, done that. For months on end. This is failure, and it’s easily avoided. How?
By knowing where there’s a good spring, storing water, or which is the method available to everyone, by keeping and knowing how to use water filtration equipment. I’d suggest my hillbilly drinking water rig. It combines the $7.49 Harbor Freight siphon pump and the Joypur 3/$25 filtered drinking straw. It works incredibly well. In advance of the event, flush the HF siphon pump with hot water to get the factory gunk out of it. Then, attach a Joypur drinking straw to the suction hose on the HF pump. Test it on anything. You stick the filter straw in gross water (the clearer, the better) and slowly pump. Clean water will come out of the discharge end of the pump. It’s that easy. Disassemble the rig, allow it to completely dry, and store it with your “this sucks” gear.
Shelter? Just go buy a tent somewhere adequate for your family or for yourself and know how to set it up. Go with shelter in place or use your vehicle if possible. But do keep a good tent. It’s smart. This could cost fifty bucks or hundreds. It’s your call. For Pete’s sake, if nothing else, buy a high-quality tarp. It’s better than nothing. I thought after the fact that I should tack on bedding. Let’s not forget the humble sleeping bag; I found this low-cost option a while back. BTW, these arrive vacuum-packed and take up very little space.
Food? You could go nuts in this area, but you don’t need to. Suffice it to say a few cases of MREs, which can be had for as low as $32/case of twelve, go a long way. The rule of thumb is one MRE per person, per day. I’d keep a minimum supply of one week’s food.
Then, there’s medical care. I’d always suggest attending free medical training at a local hospital or fire department. If you ask around, these agencies give free classes to the public—free, for potentially life-saving information. None of you need to be an EMT or a trauma doc to save a life. You can go far with basic knowledge. Also, you might be surprised that many do not even have a rudimentary first-aid kit in their house or vehicle. Please don’t repeat this mistake. For $18 dollars, you can avoid it here.
It sucks to be cut off from the rest of the world. I’ve been there for months on end. Trapped in horrible mountains, surrounded by bad people, with <zero> means of touching base with your loved ones. It was a job requirement for me back then, but right now, it’s a reality for unknown thousands down south. You can easily avoid this if you act now. It’s really nice to have communications. I’d suggest two energy-sipping devices. The first is the $17 XHDATA D-238 shortwave radio. The second is the $40/2 Baofeng UV-5R ham radio. The SW radio takes close to no training to use, and you can find out what’s happening in the broader world. The ham radios take a bit more expertise and practice, but in a serious emergency, they can be used to summon help if the cell towers are down. I’d like to note that in real-world emergencies, THE CELL NETWORKS ARE ALWAYS DOWN. Think about it, pay the money, learn to use the gear. It’s not that hard or expensive.
Then, let’s face it, the world has some shitty people. You need to defend yourself or your family. Also, you need basic tools for just about everything, especially when life sucks. I’m not going to suggest you build some kind of arsenal. That’s not me. Here’s stuff I personally own or have used. The first thing you need is a good knife. This $30 dollar unit will last for a lifetime and is strong and plain. The next thing I’d suggest is a good multitool. I thought to help the readers out because the options here are dizzying, and it’s possible to buy junk, name-brand, or generic. This $32 dollar option is fantastic. It’s also nice to have an entrenching tool, which doubles as a weapon at need. I’m hardly going to touch on firearms, but I will say that the number one survival/defense caliber is the humble .22LR. It is a killer, rest assured. Buy a brick of hollow points and keep it with your rifle, preferably a Ruger 10/22, the best of the breed.
I’d also suggest a power source for your devices independent of household power. Many would say you need a gasoline generator. I disagree for a few reasons. One, a gas generator is a complex machine that takes some degree of expertise to operate safely. Two, it’s going to cost hundreds, at least. Three, they’re noisy. Finally, they require gas, which may be in short supply. Also, laughs, try buying a gas generator after a disaster! I’ll bet my bottom dollar that there’s not a generator to be found in North Carolina right now. Lemme give you the lowest-cost option that works for almost everyone, the cheapo $32 400W vehicle voltage inverter. You plug it into a car’s cigarette lighter port and flip the switch. Presto, you have a means of powering devices or 400W worth of household power. I’d suggest a higher-cost but also great, $230 solar generator. This thing is dead easy to use, rest assured. But as with everything I’ve suggested, knowing how to use it BEFORE your bad day(s) is key.
Finally, there are some other low-cost, nice-to-have items. Even though the first I’d suggest is the humble map compass, I’d never go without one. Get one, and know how to use it. Then, it’s nice to have lighting. I’ll suggest a few options, but there are many. One that’s really cool and endlessly practical is what we called firefly lights in the service. You can buy an $8/8 pack here. Then, there’s an all-purpose, rechargeable LED lantern. Kind of nice to have for $26. I’d also suggest buying a three-pack of Bic lighters at Wally World or a gas station, and for Pete’s sake, learn how to build a fire.
This is my readiness pitch to all of you. The definition of a disaster is an unforeseen event that drops on your lap and screws everything up, or endangers you or your family. This no-shit happens, and you are damn right it can happen to you.
Do like a good Boy Scout, and be prepared. No, you cannot possibly cover all contingencies. But you can cover most with the little bit of stuff I suggested above. It might take up 1/4 of a clothes closet, or a corner of your garage. Oh, OK. It’s better than being stranded and completely dependent upon outside help.
Help that may be weeks in coming. Very shitty weeks, I might add.
Give it some thought, and then maybe open your wallet. ‘Nuff said.
BLUF: One of the unique eating experiences of my life; unique in the most positive possible fashion.
Right off the bat let me say that I am hardly a connoisseur, or a competent reviewer of food. I am the product of decades of institutional food and hastily bolted meals; you must take what I say with a grain of salt. However, I think I can say that I recognize special and novel. The other night, I experienced both.
If you ever find yourself in Yamba, New South Wales, Australia, I can heartily recommend Karrikin, a gem of Aussie dining on the exquisite Pacific coast.
OK. So, since my arrival to this fair land I’ve been bombarded with interesting food experiences. This morning I ate a vegemite concoction known as toast soldiers; it consisted of strips of buttered toast, loaded with the local brown salty paste, dipped in a semi-hard boiled egg. Surprisingly delicious. I requested the most Australian possible dish from my host’s recommendations; I ended up with a steak meat pie in a place called Maclean on the banks of the mighty Clarence River, a flood-prone, slowly flowing body of water bordered by innumerable sugar cane fields.
Also, I have since had both a beef burger and a fish sandwich fortified with beets; a surprisingly welcome addition. In addition, the alcoholic drinks have been first rate, not a Budweiser in 9000 miles, God be praised. While I’ve been sparing with these treats, what I’ve sampled has been top notch. Also, the weather has been top-notch, very comfortable. For those from the frigid north, I highly recommend an Australian winter. Hint: it’s not winter down here, although it is claimed as such. My guess is that the summers are ghastly.
But, let’s talk about my experience at Karrikin, a departure from any past experience.
We had a four course meal at a restaurant with no fixed menu.
That’s right; no fixed menu.
Whoa. For a child of the American strip mall, this alone sets this place apart. No nationally standardized menu, where a basket of jalapeno poppers prepared in Charleston, West Virginia is exactly the same as poppers served in Spearfish, South Dakota. No ready-made meal fetched from the depths of a freezer, shipped from a corporate kitchen a thousand miles distant, to be prepared by a first-week line cook with two days training.
Nope. A light-year from that culinary hell.
Let me walk you through the experience.
First, we walked, yes, walked, to the restaurant. So far, villages in Oz are pedestrian friendly. It was about half a klik from our accommodations, and there were no near-death experiences. We entered the Aussie standard friendly, open establishment, and we were shown to our table in the back. Nothing “fancy,” but a distinct outdoor feel, informal and clean. We sat and were greeted by the waitstaff, she was first-rate. In a jiffy, we got fresh water and the courses started.
There were four courses, and they were a mystery. You could ask what was on the menu, but I’m pretty sure we opted for surprise. Yes, special dietary considerations are honored, but you must be upfront in this regard. By the way, if you need something special, the staff does an amazing job of blending in your individual requirements to the spirit of the course.
And, the courses have spirit! Each is unique, and they do a fine job with indigenous ingredients.
This is where my lack of food-critique experience becomes obvious. I cannot adequately describe the courses, I won’t try. Plus, the ingredients were entirely novel, I don’t know the names for most of it. But, here goes.
The first course was native bread drizzled with a fine olive oil. In addition, there were amazing venison shavings with a savory spread. As a rural US guy who has taken and prepared my share of deer, it was the best damn venison I’ve had in my life, and I’ve had the freshest venison, with the choicest cuts, possible. Sliced cucumber. Radishes.
And this was but the first course. See illustration above. It set the tone and the standard- and it blew my doors off! Also, each course had a recommended drink- alcoholic or not. I went with dark beer, my host did wine, and later, during the main of succulent pork cutlets, I opted for a macademia liqueur- a local specialty, I gather.
We concluded with a fine dessert of a sort of custard crumble- it was fantastic! The portion sizes were just right; in all regards this was a satisfying and novel feed.
I ate every bit- none was wasted.
This. This is as it should be.
So, if you should ever find yourself on Australia’s East Coast, and you’d like to surf and relax, drop by Yanba. Australians think it’s a tad too developed- I disagree. See Atlantic City or Miami. While in Yanba, do yourself a favor and spend an evening in Karrikin. Take your time, eat your fill, and do as I did- allow yourself to be surprised!
It’s worth it.
You might want to reserve in advance, though. I think the word is out, and it deserves to be.
Five-frickin’-stars from a stranger in a strange land.
I’m writing from an undisclosed location, somewhere south of the equator, from which I will be be based for x amount of days.
In this Eden I’ve been surprised by the high quality of local food and drink, which the locals do not fully appreciate.
I do.
A simple trip to a very local supermarket reveals a staggering quality and quantity of food; the breads, cheeses, and meats are first rate and surprisingly affordable. While at Wally World in the States you can hardly escape with a few pathetic bags and your wallet lighter by a hundred-and-a-half, here, you can get the same amount of really first rate stuff, for less than half that amount.
Among the items of truly quality foods and drinks is the Short Black, a bracing, rich, black-as-midnight cup of Joe. This is not a cup of coffee in the US sense. This is an adrenaline producing, full-throttle, vicious jolt of pure, visceral essence of the esteemed coffee bean, while died well on the bottom of my tastefully appointed cup.
I have been instructed that one should never drink more than four of these guys in a day. I fear I have been remiss- and at some point I shall pay for my many sins.
The Short Black calls, and I should firmly resist.
But damn, are they fine. The perfect compliment to the sunrise; a trusted companion to the rising sun in the north-east.
This has been a surprising revelation, the Short Black. I was unaware that the denizens of this fair land are harsh critics of substandard coffee.
After this, coffee in Midwest diners will be an abomination, I’m afraid.
The Interstellar Valley 