Eating History: The Curious World of Old Military Ration Samplers
A tin plate holds hardtack, bacon, fatback, and an apple core from Civil War-era military rations. (Getty Images/ErikaMitchell)
Would you dare to eat food that’s been sitting on a shelf for decades—or even more than a century? A growing community of collectors does exactly that, cracking open vintage military rations and sampling the flavors of history, sometimes in front of millions of curious viewers online.
The trend, spotlighted in the Wall Street Journal, features everything from Civil War crackers and chocolate bars from World War II, to beef from the Second Boer War. The verdict: technically edible, rarely delicious.
Missouri collector Nathan Abernathy recently tested a 1965 Vietnam-era ration. When he opened a tin of peaches, it erupted like a shaken soda. The powdered creamer had hardened into something closer to a rock. Still, Abernathy found the crackers “not too bad” and wisely avoided the decades-old pork slices that could have spelled trouble.
For many collectors, the draw is part adventure, part curiosity, and part connection to world history. Military rations from around the globe offer everything from French duck confit and Italian cappuccino shots to Norwegian reindeer casserole. Even non-edible items have their appeal—a few years back, one enthusiast lit up a World War II cigarette and described it as a “strong smoke.”
The hobby isn’t without risks. Abernathy once spent two days violently ill after trying a chicken pesto pasta meal that hadn’t even passed its expiration date. Food safety experts caution that while properly sealed U.S. rations are usually safe, packaging should always be checked before taking the plunge.
Despite the jokes about American MREs being “meals rejected by everyone,” today’s versions are reportedly tastier than their predecessors—with innovations like shelf-stable pizza. Until then, adventurous collectors continue to draw big audiences for their white-knuckle taste tests of military meals most people wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot fork.