Travel Trail Mix

 My husband and I just spent a week on the road together, and of course I packed a large container of trail mix.

By the end of the trip,
the box was getting low.

I bulk-purchase the ingredients at our local Amish store: a few pounds of nuts, raisins, banana chips.  I store the mixture of these ingredients in gallon-size glass jars down in the basement, bringing up smaller quantities for snacking around the house.  There's a small stash of it in my emergency "grab and go" bag.  When I go on trips, I'll mix in additional ingredients: generic cheerios, in this case; sometimes I'll add m&m's, especially if I want to make the trail mix more family friendly.

I learned to appreciate the magic of this mixture many decades ago, when I was pregnant and nauseous.  I coasted nearly through my first trimester without any hint of morning sickness, and then all of a sudden, BAM!  It all caught up with me. Every food that had an odor (ketchup! soy sauce! cheese!) would set me over the edge.  My OB-Gyn recommended trail mix for its lack of smell and overall health: it had protein, carbs, fruit.  

Now I keep trail mix on my basement shelves just like my bulk-purchased flour and oats, like my emergency stash of water, like the jars of fruits and tomatoes I've canned.  It's a staple that's super-handy to have both for everyday use and in case of emergencies.  And it's great to have on hand when I travel.

On a long trip, bringing along a giant stash of trail mix means we can eat snacks when we want, not when the flight attendants finally show up or the car finally passes a restaurant.  It means I can avoid the trash of packaged snacks on airlines or of fast-food joints.  It means we don't have to make detours to a restaurant just because someone gets hungry.  It means I don't have to purchase overpriced food in convention centers or airports.  It can be a meal, or it can tide me over until I find a place for a meal that hits the health/cost/low-trash trifecta I strive for.

Not everyone in my family loves trail mix as much as I do, but that's okay: for them, it's an option they can choose or not.  (It's part of my "don't drive them crazy" philosophy: if they want to eat snacks wrapped in trash, I don't get in the way.  But the trail mix is there if they'd rather).  Sometimes they roll their eyes at my trail mix because they'd rather stand in a long line and then pay a lot of money for food; sometimes I'm the rescuer who feeds a hungry horde while we're stranded in a food desert.  Trail mix gives us choices and options: it's not a mandate.

On a road trip two summers ago, we stopped at a service plaza for gas, and my daughter burst into giggles when I popped open the trunk and pulled out a gallon jar of trail mix.  She sent a picture to N-son: this is what traveling with Miser Mom means, was her gist.  Recently, N-son called me up saying he had a question for me: his question was, when we go visit him next, could I bring some trail mix? He's nostalgic for it.  

And so this is my little ode to a mighty mix of ingredients: there are no trails in my basement, so I guess that out on the road is where my trail mix actually wants to be.  I'm glad it can come along with me.