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My husband, Mark, looked at me, confused. “You used to like this stuff?” he asked as he choked back a laugh and dipped his brown plastic spoon into his mushy shredded barbecue beef. “You have to mix it up,” I said. “So the heat is evenly spread throughout.” I tore the top off my own meal: spaghetti with beef and sauce. The aroma — a mix of SpaghettiOs and hot Spam — rushed out of the packet and into my face. It smelled like home.

Growing up, I was obsessed with Meals, Ready to Eat (which are almost exclusively referred to by their abbreviation: M.R.E.s). The thick plastic pouches containing about 1,250 calories of highly preserved food were introduced in 1981 and mark a significant upgrade from the “C ration” of old. With their airtight, heavy-duty packaging, they can withstand just about any climate and are designed to last a minimum of three years with no refrigeration. They give troops a taste of home and the ability to maintain a high-calorie diet while away on the battlefield. In my Army household, there was always one lying around somewhere: in the back of my dad’s car, in the garage, in a closet.