Ancient Foodie Survival Guide Novels & Stories

We found the kitchen again, and this time, the heavy iron pots and copper kettles seemed to gleam in invitation. To our shock, the pantry wasn't empty. It was as if the Sanctuary provided for its inhabitants based on their needs. There were loaves of crusty, dark bread that felt warm to the touch, jars of thick golden honey, dried meats seasoned with mountain salt, and a basket of apples so red they looked like jewels. "I expected ghost food," Sol muttered, tearing into a piece of bread. He groaned in appreciation. "This is better than the palace chef's best work."

He is jumping at the chance, Just as Yanlong expected. "Mother. There are few simple preparations. Take note; It’s more important to check all the ticks on the specific preparations. As long as you do them right, your chances of surviving go up by ninety percent." Yanlong gushed. As expected, money and fame are the best bait. She did well to choose this TV show fib. "First, stock up on food. Buy grains, and vacuum pack by yourself, or buy them vacuum packed. They must be vacuum packed and airtight. If it's possible, get them packed in small increments of half a kg to a kg.

Anything. On getting there, I was met with different varieties of food. Chicken, pasta, seafood, meat rolls, cheese, milk, rice, casserole. Just name it. Seafood was also available. Thankfully, I knew how to cook. Cooking is one of the survival skills. If I got lost, I would be able to survive anywhere.

"In the wilderness, I learned to make nourishing meals from whatever herbs and plants I could find. It would be my pleasure to share this skill." In truth, these cooking skills had been hard-won during my years of starvation and neglect in the midwife's home. I'd learned to identify edible wild plants out of sheer necessity. The kitchen staff watched skeptically as I began preparing a variety of herb dishes. I worked quickly, my hands remembering techniques I'd developed for survival. A simple venison soup with moonlight herbs for healing properties. Wild mountain greens sautéed with pine nuts for strength. Herb cakes made from ground roots and seeds that would replenish energy.

Stirring sauce, adding cream, mixing spices. I clap slowly. “Chef level.” She bows slightly. “Thank you, thank you.” “I can cook too,” I say. She looks surprised. “Really?” “Yes. Survival cooking.” “What is that?” “Egg. Noodles. Rice. If I do not burn the kitchen, it is success.” She laughs. “That is not cooking. That is survival.” “Exactly.” She points a spoon at me. “No problem. I can cook for you always.” I grin. “Always?”

It was her 'Survival List,' the only thing standing between her and a total breakdown after a thirteen-hour workday. On her survival lists was Arugula, the pre-washed kind; two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, non-negotiable; possibly the most important item, Dark chocolate, 70% cocoa or higher; anything less was Candy, Greek yogurt, and Artisan Truffle-Infused Hot Sauce (the only thing that made her microwave ramen taste like it cost thirty dollars)

“He said your people were starving. They don’t look like they are.” “If they were starving, you’d know it,” I snarl. “These people look better fed than our pack, and that’s saying a lot.” Kent pauses. “He may be referring to a harsh winter right after our father’s death. Game was a little scarce. People had to get creative.” “Turkey bacon?” I ask. “Try boiled tree bark,” he says. “Which I don’t recommend, by the way.” I shudder. “I guess people do anything to survive.”

could be used to clean herself and the three women, which was relatively better. With more supplies, they did not skimp on food, of course. The baked white bread was compressed and placed in a wooden bucket, then sealed with wax. It could be opened and heated as needed. There are also sausages, bacon, smoked meats, and a variety of fresh seafood caught by the sailors. There are vegetables that are dried and stored in clay pots, and when they are eaten, they are put in a pot with water and boiled to make vegetable soup. As for the traditional prevention of scurvy, lemons and light beer as an alternative to drinking water, there is plenty of it.

"The Observer… they were from the old world, weren't they? A world before Core Prime. They would have understood these principles. They would have known where to find them." "But where do we look?" Lia’s memory seemed to hang in the air, a question unanswered. "Not in the optimized world," Bima stated, a grim certainty settling over him. "Not in the sanitized, hyper-marketed version of food Core Prime is pushing. We need to look for the hidden places. The forgotten traditions. The culinary underground." He remembered the spice merchant, the old woman with the mangoes, the ancient glyphs. These weren't just food items. They were fragments of a lost culinary heritage.

As the sky turned dark, everyone had used up quite a lot of Chi as they took to the skies for a long period. They then found an unoccupied island and spent the night to replenish themselves. When Fane was free, he sat by the bonfire and read the ancient tome. He had new insights toward medicine-related items with it. He came across numerous pill remedies he had never seen before in the ancient tome and, fascinated by what he read, tried his best to memorize them.