Chow time

Sampling the military diet

By Bonnie Powell

August 6, 2007

Developments in food processing have always marched in step with the military.

Napoleon rewarded Nicholas Appert, the Frenchman who in 1809 invented the first system of hermetically sealing food in jars, with 12,000 francs, then jealously guarded the technology as a military secret. At that time, having a reliable, portable, safe supply of troop food was as valuable a weapon as, well, weapons.

In their 1976 book Eating in America, historians Waverly Root and Richard de Rochemont tell how the outcome of the U.S. Civil War was in part decided by which side could adequately feed and supply its troops. The North had the edge, thanks to the nascent tin-canning industry — pioneered by inventor Gail Borden — which supplied Union soldiers on the march with condensed milk and canned vegetables. The Confederates, meanwhile, had plenty of fresh produce, grains, and meat from Southern farms, but no easy way to transport the barrels to the battle sites once the railroads were destroyed.

Modern American soldiers, or warfighters as the military prefers to call them, have been eating shelf-stable Meals-Ready-to-Eat (MREs) since they replaced C rations in 1981. MREs are safe to consume for up to three-and-a-half years, stored at 80 degrees or lower. They have been sterilized at high temperatures and then vacuum-sealed into plastic pouches, which can be reheated in the field with the flameless chemical heater included with each MRE.

Dinner in a bag.

Each MRE provides 1,300 calories in the form of an entrée (such as Chicken With Salsa or Vegetable Manicotti), often with an accompanying starch (Mexican Rice), a carbohydrate (crackers, bread), a “spread” (cheese, peanut butter, jam, or jelly), a dessert or snack, beverages, and a packet of salt, sugar, and spices.

Given that Americans’ ever-bulging waistlines are frequently blamed on the popularity of heavily processed convenience foods, I was surprised to read a Chicago Tribune article stating that Marines on foot patrols in Afghanistan had lost as much as 40 pounds each on a diet of just MREs.

My first thought was that perhaps the MREs were just too gross to eat, even for ravenously hungry soldiers. After all, the acronym has lent itself to many mocking alternate definitions, including “Meals Rarely Edible” and “Meals Rejected by Ethiopians.” Then I remembered I actually had two MREs in a cupboard at home. I could find out for myself what they taste like.

Mostly real edible

The National Guard distributes MREs to civilians during emergencies like Hurricane Katrina. (You can buy them on eBay, although the packages plainly say, “Commercial Resale is Unlawful.”) Mine dated from September 2004, when Hurricane Ivan devastated Pensacola, Florida. I flew there to help both my grandmother, who lost part of her roof, and her longtime neighbors, some of whom were left with nothing but a concrete slab.

With no electricity for her stove, we cooked eclectic, defrosting-freezer feasts for the neighborhood on an electric wok plugged into a gas generator. Some octogenarian family friends reported that their Chicken Tetrazzini MREs had gone rather well with a glass of room-temperature white wine, but my two MREs came home in my suitcase as a souvenir of a sad time.

I talked my husband into taste-testing the Thai Chicken and the Vegetarian Pasta with Vegetables with me. Typically, the only processed food we eat is canned soup — and we’re trying to phase out even that. So I confess my expectations for the MREs were very low.

The MRE ingredient lists themselves didn’t look too bad. The Yellow and Wild Rice Pilaf that accompanied the Thai Chicken comprised just “water, white rice, wild rice, carrots, food starch-modified, peas, mushrooms, soybean oil, salt, onion powder, spice, and turmeric.” The list for the Sterling Pound Cake was the scariest, with plenty of preservatives and stabilizers that gave the lie to the “Fresh Baked Quality” logo it bore.

It took us a while to figure out the instructions — both dire and funny — for the flameless MRE heater. First came a warning that “vapors released by activated heater contain hydrogen, a flammable gas” and that unactivated heaters should be disposed of only in accordance with environmental regulations. (I wonder how that’s working in Iraq and Afghanistan.) Near the bottom, a diagram told users to prop the carton up on a “rock or something.”

Making dinner requires a ‘rock or something.’

After much checking and rechecking the directions, I finally inserted my plastic pasta pouch properly inside the pouch with the heater and water, then stuffed it in the box as directed. Steam immediately began shooting out, which was gratifying.

Just as our meals were assembled, some friends stopped by. One of them had been in the army “a billion years ago,” back when rations came mostly in cans, he said. He marveled at the current generation of military grub. “This looks so much better,” he declared.

We all grabbed forks and sampled. The pasta was mushy, but the sauce was not unpleasant. The rice on the Thai chicken was crunchy — in a good way — but could have benefited from a way of heating it, as the hot chicken on top didn’t melt the gluey clumps quite enough. Everything else tasted more or less like their civilian counterparts.