by D. B. Walker
2¼ cups milk
¼ teaspoon salt, or more to taste
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it.
2 In a bowl, gently stir together the flour, buttermilk, and butter until the dough just comes together. On a floured surface, pat the dough into a 1½-inch-thick round. Cut the dough into 6 rounds that are 4 inches in diameter and transfer to the baking sheet. Bake until golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes.
3 To make the gravy, crumble the sausage into a heated skillet and cook until brown all over, about 5 minutes; drain the meat on a paper towel–lined plate. Leave the fat in the pan.
4 Return the skillet to the stove over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook for 2 minutes. Slowly whisk in the milk; increase the heat to medium high and simmer, whisking constantly, until thickened, about 3 minutes.
5 Stir in the sausage and season the gravy with salt and pepper. To serve, split the biscuits and top with generous spoonfuls of gravy.
So-called because they’re about the size of a cat’s skull, cat head biscuits make a hearty breakfast any time of day. Just try not to think too hard about skulls.
CHUPACABRA
She hunted alone again, far from the swarm. She didn’t mind sharing, but the swarm had no standards. Alone, she could be choosy. She didn’t have to just take whatever she could grab.
Snacks were near. Not the kind of snack that ran around screaming, but small snacks in wooly wrappers that stuck in her teeth. They might fill her until a really fulfilling nosh came her way.
She tackled one as it slept and took a big bite.
“Baaaa!” said the snack.
But it wasn’t really up to snuff. Something wasn’t right. She paused and stared blankly at her dinner. Hunger burned her from the inside out, but her hands wouldn’t bring the snack to her mouth. Her frustration grew.
She shambled over to some tall grass. She ripped some fragrant leafy plants up by the roots and returned to her meal with them. She dropped them tentatively on the mound of carnage. The plant wouldn’t help fill her hunger, but the smell was nice and it enhanced the overall experience. She went back to chewing.
When she was done she stumbled around after the other wooly snacks for a long time, but they were awake now and trotted away faster than she could follow.
Somehow she knew this was all wrong. Nothing satisfied her. The dark painful hunger drove her ever onward, but she knew she could do better with a little effort. She just wanted the pain and hunger to end.
Eventually she wandered out of the trees and saw a building with a door. She had her heart set on the shrieking, fearful snacks that she loved best, and buildings with doors were where they usually were.
The awful hunger had already caught up with her again. It drove her inside.
Chupacabra Shepherd’s Pie
CHUPACABRA SHEPHERD’S PIE
serves 6
2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon salt, plus more as needed
½ cup heavy cream or whole milk, or more as needed
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 large carrot, peeled and chopped
1 pound lean ground beef
½ pound ground lamb
1 teaspoon dried thyme
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon tomato paste
½ cup dry white wine
½ cup fresh or frozen peas
¼ cup chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley, plus more for serving
1 Fill a medium pot with cold water, add the potatoes and 1 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil over high heat and then cook until potatoes are fork tender, about 15 minutes. Drain the potatoes and return them to the pot.
2 In a small pot over low heat, warm the cream and melt the butter. Add the warm mixture to the cooked potatoes and, with a masher or fork, mash the potatoes. If the potatoes are too dry, add more cream or milk as needed. Add 1 teaspoon of salt, or to taste, and set aside.
3 Preheat the oven to 425°F. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over high heat. Add the onion and carrot and sauté until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the beef and lamb, using your spoon to break up the meat. Stirring occasionally, cook until browned and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Drain any excess fat and then add the dried thyme, 2 teaspoons salt, black pepper, Worcestershire, tomato paste, and white wine. Stir to combine and cook until the wine is reduced, about 7 minutes. Turn off the heat and then fold in the peas and parsley.
4 Place a 1½- to 2-quart baking dish on a rimmed baking sheet. Spread the meat mixture over the bottom of the baking dish and then spread the mashed potatoes over the surface. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the surface of the potatoes is golden brown. Let cool for 15 minutes and then serve garnished with more chopped parsley.
A garnish provides a striking contrast to the eye as well as the taste buds, supplying a boost to morale in a world ruled by wilted undead.
I COULD JUST
EAT YOU UP
Something smelled really, really good. Something that was more than a snack, something that made her whole body wobble.
The building was dark and twisty. Large sharp things sat everywhere. But she was sure if she looked hard enough, she’d find the snack.
As the scent grew more distinct, even her raging hunger couldn’t mask a new feeling that was working its way upward inside her. Images ran through her decomposing brain. Someone’s hand on hers. Hunting together. Sleepy sexy eyes. Taking the head off a snack, not with her teeth, but with a sharp, metal gleam. She liked the gleam. She dreaded it, but it comforted her.
She followed the luscious scent with halting steps. The snack stood there waiting for her. The snack didn’t run. Good snack, good. End this hunger. Nothing else mattered.
The snack stood up from behind a large machine. It had big, juicy arms that made her feel itchy. This was the snack for her, had always been the one for her.
She felt her body leaning forward, mouth first. She wanted to feed on it. She wanted to feed it. She wanted just to look at it. She opened her arms. Did it want her as much as she wanted it?
The snack raised an arm and moved forward, a bright, cutting gleam in its hand. The sharp thing whistled sweetly and plunged deep into her head. The last vestige of her rotted brain stem surged and went dark.
She went limp and fell with a grateful gurgle. The hunger had left her in peace at last.
Sweet-ish Fleshballs with Red Berries
SWEET-ISH FLESHBALLS WITH RED BERRIES
makes about 36 meatballs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
½ onion, finely chopped
1 pound ground pork
½ cup bread crumbs
½ cup heavy cream
1 large egg
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
Coarse kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup beef or chicken stock, warm
2 tablespoons sour cream
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup lingonberry preserves (or red currant or sour cherry preserves)
1 Preheat the oven to 425°F.
2 In a medium skillet set over medium heat melt 1 tablespoon of the butter. Add the garlic and onion and sauté until softened, about 8 minutes. Transfer the onion mixture to a large bowl. Mix in the pork, bread crumbs, ¼ cup cream, egg, and allspice. Season with salt and pepper. Use lightly dampened hands to roll the meat mixture into 1 tablespoon balls and transfer to a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the meatballs are golden brown and cooked through, 12 to 15 minutes.
3 In a large saucepan set over medium heat melt 2 tablespoons of the
butter. Whisk in the flour until a smooth paste forms. Gradually whisk in the remaining ¼ cup cream and the stock. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the sauce thickens slightly, 3 to 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and whisk in the sour cream. Add the meatballs to the sauce and stir to coat. Divide among serving plates, sprinkle with parsley, and serve with lingonberry preserves.
Make an impact with color by drizzling the livid jam over the meat in splattered lines.
YOU GRILL OR
YOU DIE
He felt strangely sad, looking down at the biter who’d come this close to gobbling him up in his sleep.
Was this the strange creature he’d been tracking? It pretty much fit the bill, with that silkscreened skull on its sweatshirt. He tried to imagine its face before the skin had dried away, before its hair matted, and before its mouth grew stained with blood and gore. It must have had a name and a family.
He’d keep the cleaver he had found. He figured if the walker had carried it this long it must have been important. It was near as good as his hatchet. He could sharpen it up and use it.
He wondered again about Pam and her peculiar tastes. He hoped she had been spared all of this.
He gathered his stuff to set off. He wasn’t far from the friends who had yelled at him, threatened his life, shot at him, and become his family since the outbreak. It had taken the snacking dead to bring kindness into his life again.
Something rustled in the brush behind the sawmill. He found hoof tracks in the mud. Could’ve been deer, except for the fresh rooting hole in the mud. A feral hog had just been here looking for a snack.
He was done hunting the dead. He was going to hunt himself a hog and barbecue it. He could feel the sauce running down his chin just thinking about those ribs.
But he’d wait till he got back to the group. In a world where we’re all on the menu, you grill together or die alone.
The apocalypse was no picnic, but you didn’t have to starve either.
Dripping Ribs with Bourbon
DRIPPING RIBS WITH BOURBON
serves 6
RIBS
2 racks baby back ribs (5 to 6 pounds)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 Spanish onion, thinly sliced
1 cup pomegranate juice or orange juice
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
BARBECUE SAUCE
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small red onion, chopped (about 1 cup) 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 tablespoon chili powder ¼ teaspoon grated orange zest
1½ cups ketchup
⅓ cup cider vinegar
¼ cup honey
¼ cup bourbon
¼ cup Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon hot sauce, or more to taste
1 Preheat the oven to 325°F. Season the ribs with salt and pepper. Scatter onions on the bottom of a large roasting pan. Place the ribs on top of the onions and pour the juice and 2 tablespoons vinegar over the top. Cover the pan tightly with foil. Bake until the ribs are very tender, about 2 hours. Store the ribs in the cooking liquid until ready to serve. Ribs can be cooked 2 days ahead.
2 To prepare the barbecue sauce, heat the oil in a large saucepan over high heat, and sauté the onion until very tender, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for 3 minutes longer. Add the chili powder and orange zest and cook for 1 minute. Add the ketchup, vinegar, honey, bourbon, mustard, Worcestershire, and hot sauce and simmer uncovered on low heat for 15 to 20 minutes, until darker in color and very thick. Let cool then puree in a blender until smooth. Sauce can be made up to 1 week ahead.
3 Light a grill or preheat your broiler. Generously brush the ribs with the barbecue sauce and grill, basting with more sauce, until the meat is glazed all over and crisp around the edges, about 10 minutes. Serve with extra barbecue sauce on the side.
The meat on baby back ribs shrinks away from the bone during cooking, creating a convenient handle for picking them up. Ribs are one snack the living and the undead can all agree on.
After the end of the civilized world, a very bad day at work, or binge-watching a favorite TV series, a cocktail can be the one thing that stands between you and a murderous rampage. Straight spirits, wine, or beer are effective, but nothing says “society endures” quite like a mixed drink.
Make ’em strong, make ’em count.
BLOODY WALKER
Really just a Zombie by another name. The guy who invented that cocktail was a Prohibition-era bootlegger called Donn the Beachcomber, so you know it’s apocalypse-ready.
serves 1
2 ounces añejo rum
1 ounce light rum
1 ounce dark rum
½ ounce lime juice
¼ ounce pomegranate juice
¼ ounce apricot brandy
¼ ounce 151-proof rum
1 or 2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 cherry, for garnish
1 pineapple spear, for garnish
1 mint sprig, for garnish
Combine all the liquid ingredients in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake. (Or, combine in a blender and blend on low speed, then add ½ cup of ice cubes and blend for 5 seconds on high.) Strain into a Tiki mug, Collins glass, or washed pickle jar. Add garnishes and serve with a swizzle. If no appropriate swizzle can be found, see below.
HOW TO ROAST A BONE SWIZZLE: If plastic swizzles are scant, you may be forced to resort to nature. The bone swizzle looks great and shows that you’re not messing around.
Reserve a set of long, small bones from a roasted chicken: thighs, wing bones, or even drumsticks are great. Make sure all the meat and soft material has been gnawed away. Roast at 275°F for 1 to 2 hours, until thoroughly dried out. When finished, your bone swizzle will make an assertive statement in any mixed drink.
CORPSE REVIVER NO. 2
Classic hair of the biter that bit ya. As the original Savoy recipe notes, “four of these will unrevive the corpse again.” An effective weapon against the boozier undead.
serves 1
¾ ounce gin
¾ ounce Cointreau
¾ ounce Lillet Blanc
¾ ounce lemon juice
Absinthe or Pernod
In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, shake the gin, Cointreu, Lillet Blanc, and lemon juice, and strain into a cocktail glass rinsed with a few drops of absinthe or Pernod. Now you’re ready to face the end of the world again.
LIL’ ASS-KICKER PUNCH
This is a southern concoction that kind of sneaks up before it whoops you. Strong and sweet. Not too sweet, though, Sunshine. (Adapted from Punch by David Wondrich.)
makes 26 cups
1½ quarts sweet tea (DIY, or any store-looted brand such as Snapple—but not a fruit-flavored variety)
1½ quarts lightly sweetened lemonade (such as Newman’s Own, if you’re looting)
1½ liters seltzer
1 liter Jim Beam or Jack Daniels—anything strong and southern
¾ liter Myer’s white rum
3 lemons, sliced (optional)
Grated nutmeg (optional)
Stir together all the liquid ingredients in a bucket filled with ice. Garnish with sliced lemons and grated nutmeg, if you can find ’em. Guaranteed to create a swarm—in a good way.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Undying thanks to all the people who helped bring this book to life.
A big zombie hug to the well-seasoned team at Clarkson Potter: Doris Cooper, Erica Gelbard, Shira Gluck, Carly Gorga, Derek Gullino, Stephanie Huntwork, Maha Khalil, Pam Krauss, Jim Massey, Mark McCauslin, Neil Spitkovsky, Jane Treuhaft, and Kate Tyler.
Heartfelt gratitude to the scrappy band of survivors responsible for the photos—splatter photographer Evan Sung, iron-toothed photo assistant Eric Bissell, food and gore stylists Suzanne Lenzer and Ashley Schleeper, and props stylist/armorer Maeve Sheridan.
Thanks to Luke Guldan for backwoods biceps, and Lily Starbuck for wiel
ding a mean peel. Ice cream truck courtesy of Andrew Bozzo of Carpe Donut NYC. Room and board by the immortal Joe Broker.
Thanks to recipe developers Rebekah Peppler and Julia Heffelfinger for ensuring the snacks truly were to die for.
Thanks to heroic agent Janis Donnaud.
My family survived this long zombie apocalypse with patience and grace. In this world, you can’t do nothin’ without your flesh and blood.
INDEX
Note: References in italics indicate photographs.
Angel of Death Brown Sugar Bacon Bites, 1.1, 1.2
Avocados
Backwoods Burrito, 2.1, 2.2
Guac and Load Guacamole, 1.1, 1.2
Backwoods Burrito, 2.1, 2.2
Bacon
Bites, Angel of Death Brown Sugar, 1.1, 1.2
and Spinach, Gutted Mushrooms with, 1.1, 1.2
Turkey Pizza Clubs, 2.1, 2.2
Up All Night Breakfast Sandwich, 2.1, 2.2
Beans
Backwoods Burrito, 2.1, 2.2
Nachos of the Living Dead, 1.1, 1.2
Posthumous Red Chile Hummus
Beef
Backwoods Burrito, 2.1, 2.2
Chupacabra Shepherd’s Pie, 3.1, 3.2
Elbows Casserole
Sloppy José (or Whoever Else)
Unsuspecting Pigs in Blankets, 3.1, 3.2
Whatcha Got Chipotle Cheeseburgers, 2.1, 2.2
Biscuits
Cat Head, with Sawmill Gravy
Dire Ham, 1.1, 1.2
Bloody Walker
Blueberry Muffins, False Sense of Security, 1.1, 1.2
Breads. See also Biscuits
False Sense of Security Blueberry Muffins, 1.1, 1.2
Last Stand Skillet Cornbread with Honey Butter, 2.1, 2.2
Burn-The-House-Down BBQ Sammy
Burrito, Backwoods, 2.1, 2.2