So, the Financial Times has reported that world governments are stockpiling food to hedge against… what? There’s plenty of speculation (soaring food prices, zombie apocalypse, nuclear terrorism), and I sure as hell don’t know what they see coming. All I know is, if you can’t beat ’em join ’em.
I’m actually right in the middle of an anti-stockpiling experiment at the moment – I’m eating all the food in my pantry and seeing how long I can go without buying groceries (the only exceptions are coffee and half-and-half, both dire necessities). This serves a couple of purposes:
1. I’m seeing how long I can really survive on a pantry’s worth of food
2. I’m learning how to creatively make tasty meals out of unlikely combinations
3. I’m finding stuff in the pantry that I bought who-knows-how-long ago and making a note that I clearly don’t eat it, so I probably shouldn’t buy it again
4. I’m saving a shitload of money. Which is good because I just paid tuition which is like being mugged but without the compelling story to tell at work the next day.
Anyway, I’m starting to run out of food, and it’s getting interesting. I’d guess that what I’ve got on hand will last me about two more weeks but I’ll keep you updated.
Once I lift the self-imposed ban on grocery shopping, I plan to start stockpiling food like an MFer. One, in case I’m stuck in my house for months during the next pandemic, and two because I know from experience that a good-size stockpile can see you through a lengthy unemployment. Not that I’m staring a layoff in the face right now, but you just never know. Some people are blindsided by these things and pack up a paper box with their desk knickknacks and go home to cry, not knowing what else to do. Me? I’d go right home and start cooking beans in the crockpot.
The point is, I know myself too well and if I just start stockpiling without a decent plan in place I’ll end up with a 200 jar stockpile of kalamata olives, chickpeas, and apple pie filling and not a damn thing to eat when the martians land and I’m hiding in my crawlspace for weeks.
I’ll need other things, like canned Hershey’s syrup, maraschino cherries, and bourbon.
I need a plan. Something that ensures I spend my alien-induced exile eating balanced, nutricious, and delicious meals. I realize this is all pointless, because while I can buy shelf stable half-and-half, as soon as my Extra Dark Italian Roast starts to degrade, I’ll probably slit my wrists with my Leatherman, but still. I’m banking on the hope that someone will have developed a long-shelf-life coffee that is actually potable by then, and just in case I’d like to have a 3-month food supply on hand. I’d also like to have some extra food, because when the shit hits the fan and I’ve run out of mascara, I may need to make a trade. Plus, it might get lonely being in quarantine so I may want to have a neighbor come and ride it out with me. And I’ll probably have to bribe them with Jello Pudding Cups to put up with me. You see my point?
Over the next few days, I’m going to do some research to determine just how much of each of the food groups I’ll need to amass, and also if Trader Joe’s has a way to freeze-dry and reconstitute those little apple pastries they sell in the freezer department. Because those? Are delicious.