How to Satisfy Those Increased Calorie Demands

Supercharge Your Survival: Eating Well When the World Goes Wonky

Congratulations! Society just hit the fan, and you’ve inadvertently signed up for the most intense workout regime of your life. Who needs a gym membership when you’re hauling water like a human forklift and turning your backyard into a chicken rodeo?

Welcome to Apocalypse Abs™, where every day is leg day, arm day, and “why-is-everything-so-heavy” day. Your FitBit? It just burst into flames, trying to keep up with your step count. Making dinner now involves a triathlon of foraging, fire-starting, and wrangling whatever protein source isn’t faster than you. (Spoiler alert: Chickens are surprisingly nippy when they realize they’re no longer pets.)

In this brave new world of perpetual motion, your body’s burning calories faster than a doomsday prepper’s emergency candles. Every mundane task has transformed into an Olympic sport. Laundry day? More like upper body bootcamp. Chopping firewood? Congrats, you’re now Paul Bunyan’s sweatier cousin. Even brewing your morning coffee feels like you’re training for the Strongman competition: “And here comes Dave, setting a new world record in the Bean Grind event!”

Don’t worry. You’ve got this. Because this is where your crisis-prepping brilliance gets its moment in the spotlight. Because YOU know about the 3^rd Principle of Preparedness—Physical Preparedness. You know you should plan on burning around 4-5,000 calories a day during a society down scenario, right? But remember that stash of calorie-dense foods you squirreled away? It’s about to become more precious than any cryptocurrency ever was.

Let’s talk about your new nutritional superheroes. Nuts and seeds? They’re basically compact power pellets for humans. Dried fruits? Nature’s candy, but with a PhD in survival. And don’t overlook oils – a glug of olive oil can turn your sad foraged-greens salad into a gourmet survival dish.

Now, I hear you asking, “But can I really subsist on trail mix and twigs?” Hold onto your taste buds, because this is where your culinary creativity enters the apocalyptic Iron Chef competition. Those beans and rice you stockpiled? They’re not just survival food, they’re a blank canvas for your inner crisis cuisine artist. Here’s a pro tip to take them from meh to amazing: Toast your rice in a dry pan before cooking, then throw in some dried herbs such as parsley, cumin, and thyme and a splash of that olive oil you wisely hoarded, and if you’re feeling fancy, a sprinkle of nutritional yeast for a cheesy flavor. Boom! (you could even throw in some pork fat. YUMMY!) You’ve got a protein-packed meal that’ll fuel hours of perimeter checks and zombie… er, I mean, “unexpected visitor” watch.

Now, let’s talk about nut storage because nobody wants rancid almonds when the world goes nuts (pun intended). For long-term stashing, think glass jars with the air sucked out. You can use oxygen absorbers or even the vacuum sealer you bought for your sous vide adventures in the before-times. But remember, even with their air sealed away, these nutrient-dense nuggets need to be rotated every 12-18 months—though I’ve gone much longer with almonds. Think of it as forced snacking – for survival’s sake, of course.

And let’s not forget jerky – the food equivalent of a hardy post-apocalyptic survivor. It’s tough, long-lasting, and always ready for action. Plus, chewing it counts as jaw cardio. Who knew face gains would be part of the apocalypse?

The secret sauce here (pun absolutely intended) is to start planning your survivalist menu now. Yes, right now, before the world goes sideways. Don’t wait until Armageddon to discover that you and canned sardines are mortal enemies. Start experimenting today! You might find that your “Doomsday Delight Bars” (a winning combo of nuts, dried fruit, and that dark chocolate you’re definitely hoarding) are so tasty that they’ll become a pre-crisis family favorite. (Dark chocolate can be stocked the same way nuts are.)

Oh, and for those of you eyeing the local squirrel population with a mix of hunger and uncertainty, let me put your mind at ease. Squirrel meat tastes a lot like a rabbit. So if you’ve ever enjoyed a nice lapin à la moutarde, you’re in for a familiar treat. Just think of them as tree rabbits with better parkour skills. Your taste buds won’t know the difference, even if your conscience might take a moment to adjust.

In this new reality, food isn’t just fuel – it’s the high-octane stuff that keeps your personal Mad Max vehicle (aka your body) running. So stock up, flex those culinary muscles, and embrace your new role as the Gordon Ramsay of the post-apocalyptic world. “This scrounged squirrel ragout is RAW!” has a certain flair to it, doesn’t it?

So, my future buff crises chefs, keep your pantry stocked, your recipes practiced, and your sense of humor well-fed. You’ll need all three almost as much as those calorie-dense foods. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with some sprinting chickens. Those feathered speed demons don’t know it yet, but they’re about to meet their match. Bon appétit, and may your sweating be fruitful!