Spain's Crisis Diet: Cat Stew and Other Unwanted Meats

Cat stew: The uncomfortable pantry staple

Can you eat cat? Yes, and people have. The explicit recipe involves a two-kilogram cat, skinned like a rabbit. This opens a discussion on what animals enter the pantry when hunger strikes and why some are accepted while others aren't. It starts with family memories—like a father recounting how soldiers roasted cats during military service—and evolves into an involuntary treatise on survival, edible botany, and post-war memory.

The recipe and why cat tastes like rabbit

The culinary starting point is clear: skinning, chopping, and stewing, just like rabbit. A key technical argument trinc: cat meat is dry and bland, nearly indistinguishable from rabbit at the table. Hence, rabbit recipes often rely heavily on spices and sauces. The Spanish idiom "passing off cat as hare" isn't new; using it casually references centuries of food trickery.

Comparisons extend to other meats. Some claim river rat was the base of original paella, arguing its taste surpasses cat. Others note that seafood was poor man's food in post-war Spain before becoming a luxury item. The hierarchy of edibility is defined by price, not palate.

Weeds that fed generations

Against cat, plant alternatives emerge. Participants list wild plants treated as enemies by industrial agriculture: milk thistle, wild chicory, dandelion, nettle, purslane, and burdock. Every part—leaf, stem, flower, seed, root—is usable. They provide carbs, fiber, and protein, surviving herbicides and intensive farming, proving their vitality.

Family memory reinforces this. Purslane appears in stories from the Cuban War and post-Soviet scarcity, where it was the only food for months. Ironically, the plant that saved grandparents is now one grandchildren refuse to see on their plates.

Hedgehog, dog, and the limit of acceptability

The catalog expands. One participant defends hedgehog stew fed on ripe fruit, noting the animal grooms itself with its own dirt to protect against parasites. Another recalls hedgehogs being valued in France, kept in gardens to control snails, requiring annual deworming.

Dog also enters the list, linked to encyclopedic entries. The underlying argument orders the whole topic: pigs are affectionate, intelligent pets, comparable to three-year-olds, yet eaten without drama. The boundary between pet and food is cultural, not biological.

Preparing for collapse: Slingshots, PCP, and seeds

Part of the exchange shifts to logistics. One user explains training with slingshots in the woods—the only legal hunting method—and owning air rifles adjustable to 60 joules. Their mindset assumes economic collapse, shortages, or conflict. The generational argument: only parents' generation lived peacefully; grandparents suffered severely.

Subsistence calculations trinc: seeds for liver cleansing, self-sowing plants, distinguishing milk thistle varieties by leaf. The conversation becomes a field manual.

The opaque meat business

The final segment reveals uncomfortable data. A seller marketed imported African wildebeest ribs, profiting until health authorities intercepted him. The conclusion: sauce hides almost anything, even spoiled meat. It's the same logic as passing off cat as hare, but industrialized and invoiced.

Insects as future food close the circle. Hypotheses suggest they won't be sold whole but transformed into snacks. Cheap protein always needs packaging to make it digestible.

---

Ultimately, the question isn't whether cat tastes good. It's how much hunger must strike before the answer ceases to matter. With these examples, the answer remains unchanged: less than we think.