The thing about storms is the weirdness they occasion. A hurricane approaches with assured ferocity, the mid-Atlantic coast shudders in a frisson of near-erotic anticipation, and the rush is on for the holy trinity of disaster commodities: milk, bread, and toilet tissue. Now, of course, schismatic voices advocate for other trinities like bottled water, generators, and gas – or some other more radical constellation of necessities that might include duct tape, shotgun shells, and a chainsaw. It’s a sectarian/partisan world. It doesn’t matter if it’s a hurricane, blizzard, or severe cold front breeding a tornadic frenzy that threatens, the first stop is shopping for survival goods – milk, bread, toilet tissue. Clearly, the weather is not only the world’s greatest unpaid actor, it is also the compelling infomercial shill inciting the purchase of extraordinary quantities of croutons-waiting-to-happen.
Our list veers storm-like in another direction.
Number one: wine. I’m sure others have written on this topic, but the dilemma of wine pairings for potential disasters receives too little attention. For a late October storm, part hurricane/part northeaster, I look for well-structured reds with rustic, yet delicate notes of windblown leaf mold, fallen apples and pomegranates, and tide-churned marsh mud. A powerful bouquet with the architecture of an armageddon; the kind of wine that went with the demolition of the Tower of Babel; old world wines that speak to millennia of unresolved conflict – and definitely not one of those new world, new age, over-extracted West Coast or Oz wines. You can find great vintages to accompany the end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it on the apocalypse preparedness shelf of any respectable wine shop.
Number two: roasted chickens. Almost every grocery store with a working U.S. military surplus rotisserie markets roast chickens. Confronting the potential devastation of sustained twenty-five mile an hour winds, we lay in a supply of two and, if it looks like the End of Days, three roast chickens. The last thing we want to do, having delved into the cataclysmic cellar and uncorked a good bottle of disaster wine, is cook. Glass in hand, this is the moment to survey the mayhem of downed leaves and twigs (unless something really bad has happened and it’s trees snapped and uprooted, cars smooshed, and roofs torn off, in which instance we go out with a bottle and two straws). Knowing that a roast chicken along with some pre-roasted potatoes with baby bella mushrooms (talk about a marketing scam) sprinkled with rosemary, black pepper, and sea salt awaits us at home base offers the greatest consolation.
Number three: a plan for capitalizing on frozen goods that thaw in the wake of power loss. Admittedly, power fails in the wake of really, really, really bad atmospheric and geologic events, for example a rain sodden crow landing on a transformer – and sometimes the lights go out for more than 24 hours. To deal with the potential power outage induced tsunami of delectables that include eels, soft crabs, blackberries, pre-cooked sweet potatoes, and more, we maintain a collection of recipes suitable for the grill and smoker – and a guest list of fellow survivalists who are likely to bring a good bottle as a contribution in their hour of greatest need.