MRE Party![]() March 19, 2006 Have you ever wondered what an MRE tasted like? You know, those Meals, Ready to Eat they serve to soldiers and disaster victims? I did, and I had the perfect opportunity last night. Let me give you some background. In 2001, the Seattle area experienced a 6.2 or so point earthquake on our good friend Mr. Richter's scale. It was a jarring experience, both physically and mentally. For me, it drove home the point that earthquakes can and do happen, and can happen at any time, doing unknown damage. Fortunately, in the case of the 2001 quake, there was relatively little damage; I think I had a bottle of something fall over, but my house basically escaped completely unharmed. Even so, it was a wake-up call. I set about preparing an "earthquake kit," which I would be able to quickly grab while dashing out the door, or which would hopefully be easy to locate if the house was partially fallen down. It included (and still includes) a blanket, some rope, a flashlight, a first aid kit, etc. It also includes about 20 gallons of water in individual 1 gallon bottles (all those empty cranberry juice bottles are pretty useful!). Finally, it includes a case of MREs. The thing about MREs is that they're stable for a set period of time, and then they start to go off. Apparently this means they start tasting worse, or less, or something, and their nutritional content starts to go downhill. I had initially calculated that my MREs would last about 5 years. I saw that they were going to expire this month, but I couldn't bring myself to just throw them away. I guess it's my thrifty Scottish nature, but I can't just toss something which could be useful. In any case, I had thought for a year or two that it would be fun to have an MRE Party, where I'd invite a bunch of (adventurous) friends over, and we'd have a sampling party. So, I set the date and sent out the invitations. I'd have a party where my normal spread would be present (not expecting anyone to use an MRE as acceptable party food), but we'd have an MRE tasting. The PartyBy 9 o'clock on the night of the party, it looked like we had all the adventurous souls we'd get. I announced that the MRE tasting would begin, and we all crowded into the kitchen. There were perhaps 12 of us. I grabbed the ceremonial scissors (aka the Fiskars I use for anything that needs cuttin'), and asked which one we should open first. There was a lively debate, mostly between HAM SLICE or PORK CHOP JAMAICAN. In the end we decided that the HAM SLICE would be the first victim, and I cut into the package. The outer envelope of an MRE is just heavy plastic, and apparently just serves to keep things organized. I dumped out a bunch of smaller packets and a couple of thin cardboard boxes. I held each one up and ceremonially announced the name printed on each box.
Amidst an atmosphere of hooting laughter and jeers, I prepared a paper plate, and ripped open the packet containing the main dish, the HAM SLICE. At first, no SLICE could be seen, but instead a sickly pink-brown liquid drooled out. A moment later, it was followed by a reddish hunk of what must have been meat. It required a good squeeze to get the triangular piece of meat out of the package. It finally oozed out amidst a gush of fluid. A number of comparisons come to mind, but none of them are tasteful or conducive to the enjoyment of food.
It must be said, there was a general murmur of approval for the HAM SLICE. We'd picked it as the first one because out of the available options, it seemed to hold the most potential for horror. Plus, you know, HAM SLICE is a funny name. Once everyone who'd wanted to had had a taste of it, it was declared to be pretty good. We started looking forward to the next one. Next up was PORK CHOP JAMAICAN. We chose it partially because it sounded horrifying, and partially because it had a different MENU number -- there were MENUs 1-4, and we were curious what each meant. It turns out that it meant exactly nothing: the menu was exactly the same except for the main dish. Kind of odd that they'd bother to print different containers when they were all identical except for the printed number.
At some point in the cavalcade of badness, Kristin announced that she was tired and went to take a nap, and Evan said his stomach hurt as he headed for the door. Of course we know what was really going on. And really, there's no way blame can reasonably be apportioned for wanting to exit the presence of the MRE stench.
Now, I have to say, as a vegetarian, I was excited to be trying the non-meaty options. It was thus with somewhat bated breath that I cut the seal on the PASTA. I pulled out the contents and noted that again, except for the main dish, all the ingredients were the same.
We ended up making up a scoreboard to rank the different meals we tried. This was the final tally:
HAM SLICE - good shit PORK CHOP JAMAICAN - poo PASTA ALFREDO - utter shite BURRITO - funky shit We only got as far as opening those four. I had 8 more, some of which ended up going home with people to hand out as gag gifts or whatnot. I was glad to see them off, because I know I would have kept them out of some weird sense of obligation. The party went on an hour or two longer after the MREs' fascination wore off. Everyone, as they left, commented in some way on the revelation of MREs. Some were positive, some were that sort of "you're utterly crazy" positive. All reported having a good time. I'm pleased with how it turned out. My thanks to Josh, who provided the pictures, and did his own write-up of the experience. Created by Ian Johnston. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net. |